....I was told that my drawings have life. A rare sort of energy that is so scarce and precious in scientific illustration. It is ironic that my drawings seem so alive because it is born of suffering and destruction of the psychic kind.
And I know that brutal honestly can destroy one's life.
There are people out there who believe that science and art cannot mix. That science is a dry boring diorama. It's a pity really, when you are just a child you are not supposed to know who you are. They try to shape you, cut your arms off and bind you into their definition of greatness. There are people out there in the public schooling system, call themselves teachers, that have forgotten how to dream. To them dreams are childish things to be quashed by the hard realities of adult life...that includes any remaining desire to be a vertebrate palaeontologist.
Do something useful. Earn some money. Get a real job. Forget the pursuit of knowledge for wisdom's' sake alone. I continued to draw dinosaurs instead of people.
So I had to burn at the stake for my heresy for my impractical dreams and my uneconomical ambitions.
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