I'm going to use this picture to explain how art happens to me. See, I wanted tro try out a technique that a friend was telling me about and flipping through my sketchbook was TOO MUCH WORK.

So I grab a sheet of paper from my printer and wiggle a pencil on it until the rabid beasts inside my brain recognize one of their own and go with it. I spent about an hour painting this guy when I wondered what he was looking at. Now, I feel that normal people have some sort of thought process involved in answering that question. No. No, the moment I ask the question I know the answer. A Spelunking goldfish! No matter how absurd, whatever answer my brain first gives me is unquestionably perfect. A few hours later it became obvious that my kappa was blind. Why? I don't know. The things in my brain didn't bother to explain it.