The eyes remind me of Leonardo da Vinci’s drawings. The eyes are what blow me away. Jason wasn’t copying anything. It was planted in his brain & he put it on paper. She is a super hero, who’s name escapes me, she was with the xmen for a bit. Out of the thousands of drawing that came from Jason’s hand I have only one. I have a brown paper bag framed & its in my art studio. My brother is embarrassed about it, that I have it framed, because he says it was just a doodle. If a 17 year old hand can doodle like this, I can’t imagine what it would be capable of doing now. But he was told his art is crap, from someone very important to him. He put his art away as though they were childhood play things. He is now 42 & still refuses to attempt to draw. Breaks my heart & hurts my soul. Its still in him, but he believes he would never be as good. He is right, because he has to start over & build the strength required to make his magic again.
My words fall on deaf ears. Being green with envy pushed me to study every book in the local libraries to learn to paint. The last time I studied art was as a senior in high school. So the natural artist hangs up his skills, tucks them away from sight & pretends he is not been given a gift. So I paint, or I did…pushing myself to be as good as he once was. I am a realist, I can’t really just throw paint on a canvas & call it art. But no one wants realisium. I paint what I see. The difference is I have to see the pictures of objects I paint, whereas Jason already has them in his head. I love my brother, he worries about my physical condition, I worry about him suppressing a gift given to him by God.