Memory is a fickle thing. The haziness and unreliability of stored images hints at some sort of compression artifacts. The mind seems to lump many similar things together, blurring the specific distinctions between them. Trying to recall someone's face clearly enough to draw, for example, is very difficult. Not only do preconceptions of the general structure and appearance of human faces get in the way, but, as is evidenced by this work, recollections of other people's visages seem to insinuate themselves as well. While my painting abilities are sufficient to keep me interested in continuing to paint, and even generate some satisfaction in the end results occasionally, sometimes they fall quite short of the breadth and scope of what I am trying to convey. This can usually be seen when I fall back to generic squigglies to communicate a feeling of vibrancy or energy. In an ideal world, where certain people would sit very still for hours and days on end in a location amenable to my painting, perhaps I would be able to rely purely on the splendors of captured reality to express my awe of an event or person. Even this, while probably coming closer to fulfillment, seems like it would still fall short of entirely capturing some moments, the appeal and wonder of which is intrinsically tied to their ephemeral and spontaneous nature.