The struggle was real.  I just couldn't seem to find the right artwork for my apartment.  I know, first-world problems.  Regardless, it was something on my "To Do" list that I couldn't seem to make progress on.  So I thought, why not make some artwork myself?  I mean, it can't be that hard.  What's the worst that can happen?  It sucks, you scrap it, and you buy a generic, mass-market print from World Market.

 
I ordered a 48" x 48" canvas on Amazon and set out to the Ace Hardware store in downtown Seattle to buy some paint.  House paint, sure, why not?  I mulled over paint chips for a mere 10 minutes and settled on five colors.  Five colors. It seemed less risky.  Diversify the paint portfolio, yes, that sounds good.   

 
The next Saturday, I sat on the floor in front of my big canvas and my house paint.  Bentley was secured in his play pen. I cranked up some Hilary Duff and opened the windows. Go time. I went to town with random brush strokes until the entire canvas was covered.  It looked terrible, like a 3rd grader did it.  You can do better, Dylan.  I waited until the paint dried and tried again.  Okay, we're getting somewhere.  This was more high-school level.   Still unacceptable, I wanted Picasso.  

 
I closed up my paint cans and decided to look at it the next day.  Maybe it would look better tomorrow.  Nope. Somehow it became more juvenile overnight.  The brush strokes were too intentional.  I wanted it to look slightly more "manic."   I gave myself 30 minutes to give it one more shot.  I tried not to take it so seriously.  Paint, Dylan.  Just paint.  Thirty minutes later I stepped back and convinced myself that it was finished.  I wasn't actually convinced, but I forced myself to throw the brushes down the trash chute. This painting had hit its peak. 

I'm not one to make brash decisions.  The next day I reevaluated the situation.  I wish I could say it was love at first sight.  Unfortunately I'm a little too jaded for that.  But it was wall-worthy.  Yes, wall-worthy.  I'd give it a chance.  I'd let it grow on me.  I mean, hey, it's one of a kind.  It has a good story.  It holds memories.  Besides, I had thrown away the brushes.