Monet-Ing My Art Every Time

Start with her eye. Draw the orb. Now the lashes, pointy, long. Not the nose, not the mouth, not the chin, always the eyes. Every solitary time. No exceptions. Except sometimes I make The eye into a fish, or a helium balloon or a submarine. But I always start with the eye, and it is always a woman’s. Erase. Redo. Erase. Redo and redo. If it is paper, I can crumple it. I surround myself with balls of madly-crumpled, rumpled papers. With blue lines, and a pink line on the right side. When that stops satisfying, I destroy the page, decimating it, into the teeny, tiny pieces it deserves. Punishing the paper, because I am angry with the artist. The eye is not right; the left one is too tiny, the right one is too long. Never getting it right, I continue Monet-ing the same cartoon woman. Red hair, black hair, hair with purple, pink and lilac. I am never one hundred percent happy with her. I used to make green eyes. But green eyes gets boring, if more than seven percent of your canvases have them. Seven percent, is the percent of the population that has green eyes. So now I use Canvases, but I like to pre-draw, because canvases are expensive. And I always start with the eyes.