While it may not look like a successful drawing, I see it as the first truly expressive drawing I've made in a long time. After attempting to read the first few pages of Kant's Critique of Judgment, I laid on the floor completely frustrated, with hundreds of melodramatic thoughts about the unimportance of art, specifically my own, running through my head. I was staring blankly at the vent underneath my bed for a good half hour and I felt that the only thing I could do to get rid of the feeling in my stomach and the negative unproductive thought process was to draw, and without expectations for the drawing, and without over thinking the meaning, accuracy, or composition, I grabbed a fat lumber crayon and started scribbling like a lunatic.