Typography Portrait from my imagination.
Wrote the words as I made it, so I didn’t write it first.
The words say this:
I used to think that drawing was really hard
It was impossible, something I could never do. So I didn’t try.
Why should I? I’m no artist….
I will never be in a museum, I am not worthy of such an honor.
Go ahead, tell me I am crazy… After a long time I took out my old dusty
sketchbook and began to sketch. Horrible, horrible, horrible. There were no
other words for it… Away it went, never to be seen again.
I took classes and then stopped when I was finished. I didn’t have to draw.
I thought I was drawing a subject, but found it was only the lines that
mattered.
I was worried that the nose didn’t look like one, and so I failed.
Does this nostril look right? Nope, not right.
Don’t draw an object
Draw the lines you see, travel on them.
Don’t draw perfect
Don’t draw a face
The lines are a journey
The journey you took to get here
You’ve come this far
Who should dare that you stop now?
I began to draw again, to try to succeed. What if they hate it? What then?
Will I make it?
Can i even call this art?
Wait a second…
How did I draw this?
This could not have been me. Who is the person here?
Is it me?
This must be someone else,
I can’t draw this way.
But I am holding the pencil.
I think I lost myself somewhere.
I tried to be someone else instead of just being me.
But I have found myself.
I am the artist I hoped to be.
You will fail, but you will also succeed.
You will make your own masterpiece.
You will unlock your inner artist.
I found myself today.
I am me. I am the artist.

I looked,
and when I could look no longer,
I closed my eyes.

I spoke,
and when I could speak no longer,
I was silenced.

I heard,
and when I could hear no more,
I stopped listening.

I took all of it in,
and when I could take no more,
I cried,
and my tears were the things that broke me.

- Joey Davis