Let's be clear: the Smiths saved my life and ruined it, simultaneously. I was introduced to their music in high school, by my uncle, who warned me that it would make me sad sometimes and happy sometimes. No, i thought, upon listening to their Self-Titled album for the first time, this could only ever make me happy. I loved it that much. I went through a tumultuous time in my mid-high school years, and their albums were the soundtrack to it. The feeling of listening to the records was uncanny; it was miserable and tremendously nurturing all at once. I was addicted to it, despite my awareness that it was encouraging my tendency to wallow. I still listen to their music often, and continue to experience the conflicting feelings of familiarity and discomfort from it. It's cliche to say that it speaks to me, right? I always start my portrait drawings with a contour drawing, like this one. I decided to keep this in it's contour form, rather than carrying on with my usual cross-hatching, because I felt it reflected the raw emotion I find in his music.