This week, I had a project due in Spanish where I had to choose an art style, a theme, and a message behind it. I then had to draw it and write two brief paragraphs talking about the artwork. Instead of thinking of a message or reason to draw, I started with the head of a baby. As I finished, I had to ask myself: how the !@#$ did I go from the head of a baby to a disgusting dog-baby mutant with some serious dental hygiene problems?
Sure, the goal of the drawing was never to be an adorable baby. I had the idea of a fetus in mind, but slowly my mind shifted to “botchlings” from The Witcher, a book series by Andrzej Sapkowski (which I highly recommend to anyone with a strong stomach). The baby template was altered, the head becoming warped and webs of veins surfacing on the empty paper.
Next, I thought of having a relatively ugly, premature baby crawling around for…some reason. My mind is a gateway to other dimensions, most of which are better left alone. I left the tail and gave it chubby legs, exposed ribs, and constructed its ‘unique’ face. It turns out that human babies actually have something called ‘arms,’ which I had forgotten to include. The sketch of a baby was clearly dog like, so I added a dog collar and some bloody pus. The only thing left to do was color and shade.
While it kind of makes sense how it became a dog-baby hybrid, the question of ‘why did my brain choose to go where it went?’ The steps connect, but the reason I took each step is a mystery.