First of all, a big thank you to everyone who said happy birthday! I feel loved. And thank you, also, to everyone who weighed in to say that I was not an arrogant boor for not liking dolphins-in-space-with-white-tigers-and-pastel-whales art and saying so. (I may be an arrogant boor for other reasons, but I'm not so worried about that.) I'm not sure why that particular comment bugged me--generally, being an internet artist, I am so jaded to weird and hostile commentary that I barely register such on the radar. Particularly at Elfwood, which is delightful and wonderful in many ways, but which occasionally attracts some real oddballs. Possibly it was my latent fear that I AM some kind of colossal jerk about art, which would be mortifying. I try not to be. The closest I get is a firm belief that some day, possibly a few decades hence, I will be good. And anyway, if I ever did get the idea that I was anywhere above "barely competent" at art, I would simply have to pull a book at random from my art library, take a brief look at Mucha's layouts or Alma-Tadema's delphinium or Olivia's women or Brom's...whatever the hell those things by Brom are, damned if I know, but they're cool...and that would thoroughly disabuse me of such notions and leave me wandering around flapping my arms in the breeze going "GOD! Maybe I should've become an accountant!" (Actually, this is a vital part of my creative process.)
Possibly it was just late, and my blood sugar was a bit low. Yeah. That sounds plausible. So, as is my wont with all such imponderables, I will decide to ignore it and go paint.