Witness nine year old lady in terrifying Crayola Technicolor. I have a box in my mother’s basement of all my art from like second grade on organized by what grade I was in, just because I decided to start cataloging it at some point and I was obsessed with archiving the shit I made even before I hit double digits apparently. (I should show you guys the stick book sometime.) But this one folder I brought with me - shudderingly renamed ‘manga’ instead of 'comics’ when I was fifteen - is all eras, as long as it’s even a single panel of a comic. These colored spreads I was obsessed with always really enchant me, no matter how terrible they are! I remember where I was while I made this.