Sketch 4: Self-Destruction
Her skin
trembled.
I could feel
her whisper
at the funeral.
she
noticed
I
wait.
“I hate
me.”
Black-out poetry is difficult the many times I’ve attempted it. The most difficult part is just trying to find the proper words to circle, while still maintaining a message. There is also the difficulty in deciding to either continue with the original author’s message or just go the opposite route. This was one such question I had to constantly ask myself throughout this assignment. I was tempted to go down a happy route, but I couldn’t find the words to make it happen. I have no doubt the tools were there, but I just couldn’t find it.
I decided to go down the path of keeping the same general tone, and I ended up making a somewhat sad message. The art is sloppy; I realized that halfway through me attempting this that I didn’t know how to draw blood drawing from skin, so I did as I imagined.
I have the constant struggle of imagining something HUGE in my head, and then my artistic ability just simply doesn’t allow for it. So I don’t really know how to handle this conflict. Hopefully, as I continue to exercise my creative mind more and more each week, I will be able to come to terms with this issue.