I am not really a painter.
Still, a fun fact: my work is on display at the permanent Dalí exhibition at Art Bank. I’ve painted the red walls. Some of them.
I’m not a drawer either, for that matter. Why would anybody even think so? It’s a totally different thing.
Once you’ve achieved perfection there’s really nowhere to go from there. I never did, of course. I started drawing semiseriously when I was maybe 12 or so, and kept doing it for a couple of years. I became technically proficient, but I totally lacked imagination. Meaning I was pretty decent at drawing something if I only had a model, but couldn’t really get anything to resemble anything without one. A couple of examples below. All I could find, really.
Anatomy Studies
If a fully dressed gnome and a blurry face qualify as anatomy, there you go. I promise, the face drawing was superb. Sadly there’s only a photo of it left. The quality of that photo is, as you can see, perfectly in line with my other photos.
Movie And Literature Illustrations
At some point, maybe at 15 or so, I started using pastel crayons. These two pics are prime examples of what I was keeping myself busy with. These were drawn on A0 sized paper, and I had them on my walls for years. Nowadays I might pay some more attention to, say, proportions in general.
Then I just stopped drawing. Was fun, though. Pastel crayon dust everywhere. Still have the pastels. Nowadays I occasionally draw random stuff on the iPad, but nothing serious. The Apple Pen is one amazing piece of tech, incidentally.