from "Saxophone Lung Explodes"
My father starts the detail work at her feet, and works his way up. Me, I'd probably start with the face and work down. This is, in a nutshell, the difference between my father and me. I begin a project full of hope and optimism, and end it rushing, wanting to move on to whatever is next. His enthusiasm for creating builds as he works. If I made a mother feet-first, they would have perfectly formed toes, ankles, and legs, but by the time I got to the face, I'd cut corners. Mother would come to life with the soft, featureless face of a mannequin. My father's feet may be a serviceable approximation, but his face is lovely and accurate—even when it scatters in pieces across a room.