There's something I've been thinking about lately. Throughout my kiddy years, up till, say the first year or two of high school I used to regard drawing primarily as a tool for telling stories, or expressing/venting feelings. Teen-angst art with lots of claws and blood, anyone? Trust me, I did ton-loads of that... Luckily, for your eyes and my dignity, it was before the age of internet art sites. The dream, far in the future was, of course, to become a comic artist. I was blissfully unbothered of the actual quality of my stuff, it really didn't matter as long as what I did felt important and meaningful to me.
What happened next... it all went black for a while there... I guess I was hit by a buissness car. Or, without silly metaphor, got some publicity and changed my way of thinking. Arting turned into being more about creating pretty pictures. And I did get really good at creating pretty pictures. But the spontaneous, whimsical, this-will-never-get-finished,-but-who-cares-when-its-fun story telling, the essence that had driven me from the beginning kinda got lost in the process. I have seen this change as a sort of "growing up" thing for me. I stepped out of the dream world to start building something in the real world. And now that I feel quite settled in the real world I kinda long for the dream world again. I do get back there on rare occasions, to the extatic kicks of inspiration where I can sit up all night and doodle/write, but yeah, it's very rare. The question that cuts me off every time is "is this good? Enough?" It is a sensible question alright, but there is a counter-question to consider as well: "does it really have to be great for me to do it?".
Having said that I would like to note that I think I'm going to try and pull my personal art in a more story based, conceptual direction. Chances are no one but me will notice any difference but well... telling you.

The Hedgehog painting is a good start. I loved painting that one and I think it's exciting to look at because it has content.