From shape to shape, the natural and machined, bend my eye. Nothing escapes the attraction of curve, fluid mass and void.
Even though imaginative color is applied by you, the beat of a hand touching paper goes on.
The artist never stops to admire a “perfect sketch”, because none exists.
Restless minds cave to desire.
Last night’s dinner was a gorgeous, creamy soup filled with turkey, wild rice and earthy mushrooms. My friend Kathy’s house smelled like a sachet of holiday.
While she stirred and her husband exercised, I illustrated. None of us know what kind of berries and leaves that sat on their bar. They came from the alley behind the house and were used for decoration for the Thanksgiving table.
Illustrating organics are my favorite type illustration right now. They remind me of self-portraits, body gestures; everything alive. As the season grows colder, being alive is assuring.