Always humbling to look back over ones artistic shoulder at the creative mess left behind: what you once thought was good in retrospect becomes really bad, as in it tempers the conviction of sheer brilliance whenever drawing a panel that you are so proud of to know that perspective will change. Sometimes as soon as the next morning (“what was I thinking” syndrome) or seeing it in print, or while perusing the archives many years later.
I think it’s a measure of self-confidence to basically ignore the inner critic: sure I should be better than this (whatever it is I’m drawing): sure I can always think I should be more sophisticated and witty, but the truth is, ah... nope. I’m not above anything, and that’s one thing that’ll never change. Hasn’t since I was a damn kid, and I hope I never grow up to where a dumb joke isn’t worth a giggle, or making one either. Lowering your standards means you’ll probably have much more fun outta life. Maybe it’s still the inner punk raising a psychological finger at anybody or anything that tells us we should stop being silly, and never, ever be afraid to look stupid.