I think it is provably true that any time an artist creates a work of art, it is actually a self-portrait. Did you see the works of Thomas Kinkade and Paul Detlafsen in my recent posts? Can I not effectively argue that those paintings give you a glimpse of the real person behind the paintbrush? Was Norman Rockwell not the man portrayed in all those lovely down-home, truly American oils he did? Was Theodor Giesel not also Dr. Seuss? Then I look back at some of the goofy pictures that I have created through the years and think, “Oh no! What have I done?” I sometimes think I don’t have to post nude selfies of myself for people to see me naked. Should I really have done that…? …Of course, I should! And that means I have seen William Shakespeare naked too! Good Golly! I have to quit thinking these goofy thoughts!
Catch a Falling Star 
Very true, we see the side of Picasso’s mind that dwells deep inside him.
I think Picasso’s mind accidentally got put in a trash compacter, and he had to glue the pieces back together afterwards. He put things together in a weird way that became Cubism.
Oh for heaven’s sake, DON’T STOP thinking those goofy thoughts! The goofiness is what makes you an individual. And I thank you for sharing your goofiness. Goof away, my goofy friend.
I think I can manage that.
Some say the same about books being partially true to the author’s life story, windows into their own experiences.
This drawing is (another) like I would conceive on any average philosophical day. 🙂 Nice work.
Thanks.