So as some of you may know, I have been recovering from a chronic illness that took a severe dive midway last year. Medication necessary to that recovery fucked up my hands. I couldn't exercise fine motor skills. My ability to paint and draw just ceased to be. I haven't been on that medicine for some months now, thankfully, and my body has been recovering and returning to normal and FINALLY I've been able to start working my way back to drawing. It's slow and painful but it's happening
I thought I'd never draw again, so to keep myself sane, I started writing a novel. It's actually looking good! I've had a few offers from publishers for the main thing, as well as short stories to set it up and side stories to serialize the universe online. So maybe the hands being crippled was the best thing to happen at the time? Life certainly is a wonderful, weird thing.
I'm not sure where my art is going. Certainly, losing the major skill you've defined yourself by is a terrifying, existential crisis I wouldn't wish on anyone. It puts a lot of things into perspective. I was playing it safe and boring, doing the same old, same old. I wasn't trying to improve or drive my ability forwards. I was painting what I *could* not what I *wanted* to.
I have no idea if or when commissions will happen again. Right now I'm just glad I can walk, so let's not talk about running any races.
It sure is nice to be back, though. I missed you lot. I missed bringing people to life. Thank you for being patient with me.
Let's see where it goes from here