I sketch myself a lot, because what kind of artist would I be if I weren’t also a massive narcissist? Honestly though, I consider myself a hideously unattractive person, and whatever limited interest I have in portraiture is certainly not rooted in flattery of any kind. I tend to hate art that depicts pretty people doing pretty-people things. I admire the portraiture of expressionists like Schiele and Freud and Dix. Studying myself is sort of like studying some kind of grotesque hobgoblin, a bizarre swell of whiskering, oily flesh, sagging muscles, and awkward features.