The paintbrush, apparently, is not my friend.
I have been frustrated for some time at my lack of ability to paint my observations. This, combined with the ever-failing state of my imagers finally forced my hand. I spent 3 months tirelessly working to improve my skills, with little to no evidence of improvement. I am not sure why I was so determined to paint. My father’s background no doubt colored my perception of the hierarchy of the arts. In desperation, I picked up the last pencil salvaged from the ship and tried to recreate one of my first pieces, the painting of the leaping glowlie. The result is below. Who knew I was so much better suited to graphite?
Of course, now I have to figure out a way to make pencils.