It was around this time that I realized that my self-assignment of drawing a derriere every day didn’t necessarily restrict me to male butts.
One of the realities in working on such crappy paper is that paint bleeds through to the other sides as it wrinkles the page. It would be counter-productive not to use this in the creative process. In a way it’s sort of liberating; I don’t have to worry about whether or not the drawing is good because the crappy paper makes that impossible anyway.