That Old Jim Croce Song
I dug up my old photography plates from my fine arts classes back in the day (1996). Immersed in the memories I am mildly albeit pleasantly shocked. Apparently there was a time when I was not the posterboy for regret.
I was young, eager to finish my second shot at college, and I was good. Okay, not perfect, but good. Good with line art, good with photos. I had a mean way with copy (study under Mandy Labayen and he'll make you a damn good copywriter! Too bad he's retired from teaching at the UP. )
How on earth did I let myself get convinced that as an artist, I was never good enough?
Lesson from Tolkien: hope blooms amid crap.