I have looked at my art...and looked at photos and felt that I fall so short of what I want to acheive. Sad feeling and one that I know does not have an answer since the only one that counts is the viewer and what they feel when they see art. Still, I am my own worste enemy, and for what reason I can't say.

I know I have written books that sit upon a shelf because I do not see the light I saw in them as I once did. Do I read my own work so often that it becomes dull and thus I stamp a sign on my mind that it is not good enough...or is it a valid thought?

I back up in a corner and see myself as I did when I was a child wishing I could make myself so small that no one could see me...and yet, I wish to be heard. How, can I say, "Poof Poof Pissel, make me just as small as sniffles"? Is this really my hope, or am I creating a way out of hope and ambition and high design?

I really think it is depression ideas, that can only see so far and only be so much...because they are thought from an incomplete person...a child that lived long ago trying to make sense of a crying world.

Ni