i stopped doing public figure art for a long time.
i hated how obsessive i became.
every tattoo had to be exact.
every curl, every edge, every shadow.
it stopped being art and started feeling like control.
this piece was never finished.
it sits in my incomplete files folder
because i let it stop where it wanted to stop.
instead of pushing it to perfection,
i let the lines stay unorthodox.
rough. unresolved. halfway said.
the tattoos aren’t mapped.
the hair isn’t precious.
the likeness is suggested, not solved.
this wasn’t a breakthrough moment.
it was a pause.
a quiet permission slip to not complete everything.
i didn’t want to replicate him.
i didn’t want to polish it into submission.
i just wanted to feel the weight of the form
and leave the rest alone.
unfinished doesn’t mean unsuccessful.
sometimes it just means i listened.