Cool, yeah? Well, let me share something.
When I was sixteen I turned in a self portrait that was easily as “strange” as this one. My teacher went berserk. She went out of her mind. My self-portrait wasn’t “realistic.” I didn’t accurately capture the mirror, I wasn’t “mature” enough to draw myself.
“But I feel distorted,” I told her. “I feel like a cyborg.”
(I implanted cybernetic elements to my face, WAY before TNG and the Borg.)
My art teacher wouldn’t have it. My self portrait was rejected from the art show.
Decades later, I am glad my son’s work is appreciated and shown to others. It’s better than mine! Far better. My former art teacher is somewhere… old and decrepit, no doubt, and I doubt she would even remember me.
But my son is only 16. He will produce marvels in the years to come.