In 2004, I drew this lizard—and every time I looked back at it, the stiff anatomy and shaky lines made me wince. So, when I decided to revisit my 2004 work, this was the piece I reached for first.

Redrawing it felt like a conversation across time: the same subject, the same intent, but hands that finally knew what they were doing. The difference is everything - sharper technique, a bolder style, and an eye that now catches what it once missed.​

I knew the squid would be a fight—all those tangled tentacles, the strange geometry of something that doesn’t play by land-animal rules.

My first attempt proved it: the lines fought me, the proportions felt wrong, and I walked away knowing it wasn’t the one. But the failed draft taught me something. When I stumbled on a reference photo that captured exactly the squid I’d been picturing in my head, everything clicked. I sat down again, and this time the ink just flowed—like the squid itself had finally decided to cooperate.​