With this sketchbook, I’ve been challenging my creativity by starting first with a simple shape, drawn without the end goal in mind. Once the shape is drawn, I go about filling it with a character that develops a story of its own. The idea here is to get out of my own way, to let the drawing develop itself without forcing it into a desired narrative or purpose.
I read, I read everything, I devoured your immense work, I have seen its crowing. I cried. I was reading out loud to my associates and, twenty, thirty times, suffocated by emotion, my voice broken, believing I was witnessing the…
Nineteenth century publishers were attacked with feels too.
[Insert comment about Romanticism, exquisitely timed breakdowns during readings in literary salons, Tumblr, FEELS, and the performativity of emotional overreaction]
OH MY GOD CAN WE TALK ABOUT THE GOETHE FANS WHO LITERALLY DIED OF FEELS
By which I mean, DID YOU KNOW that there were a spate of copy-cat suicides after Goethe’s The Sorrows of Young Werther came out? People were literally jumping off of cliffs like Young Werther.