Four decades ago, my father walked into a gallery in downtown Mexico City to see an exhibition by Mexican painter Tomás Parra. He would meet his future wife (and my mother), while purchasing one of the painter's drawings.

When I turned 17, I was lucky enough to be accepted as the very same painter's apprentice, and for the next four years I would assiduously attend his workshop on a daily basis. I would spend the mornings in his studio, and I would go back to my home to keep on working through the evening. As it hung on my bedroom wall, the drawing, which should at the very least be credited with a supporting role in bringing me to life, would become the focus of most my efforts. I've lost track of time regarding how often I stared up from my drawing table to look at it, with a mixture of dread, envy and admiration.

I've pilfered, pillaged and plagiarized its themes, textures and characters more times than I care to remember and, needless to say, it remains my favorite drawing in the world.

This is the latest attempt.

Portraits of people important to me, created using pencils, sanguines, gouaches and cigarette ashes.

Some page scans from a sketchbook I carried around with me during the summer of 2011.

The girl in the picture is a dear friend of mine with a soft spot for the little mermaid story. I made this illustration as a gift for her after she kindly agreed to pose for a number of figure studies.

Two small drawings, created a long time ago as illustrations to the poems a good friend.