I tore them up because I was grieving. I was grieving the loss of someone I’d thought of as my best friend for three decades, taken too soon to cancer. Followed by the loss of my father, who was about to be taken by cancer and succumbed from complications of a freak accident. Followed by the loss of several so-called friends, some of who. had been in my life for decades or more because of their own struggles with honesty, followed by my mother to pure selfishness — she decided to discontinue contact with me in February of this year, a mere three months after my father’s passing, not liking the way I was mourning the man who gave me life and whom she detested.

Then there was the betrayal of my treating psychiatrist, the worst I’ve ever had — who does not understand creativity, does not trust me, and uses a prescription pad to make up for his lack of empathy. It was… too much. And I took out my anger and my sadness on what I thought of as the least likely to suffer, as opposed to people: my own creations on paper, which I ripped to shreds. Some of the pieces I ripped won’t be missed, but these ones I’m showing here definitely are. So much so that I just may derive inspiration from my own work and attempt to create others in a similar vein when the will to draw comes back again.

Let me know if you’d like to see more of the works I destroyed this year… hopefully to make room for new creations in the new year.