Coffee always moves my hands in predictable ways. Even though I may look quite shaky, I flatten out for the line.
I love Julius Meinl coffee. It is probably the best “commercial” coffee that feels micro-roasted.
When I used to carve stone, the little cracks and grooves suggested where to go. One line organized the next and another flowed from the other. I found harmony in the yield of the rock while satisfying myself. Somehow, we found a relationship and lived in peace.
Can it be done with line? I come close to allowing my hands to orchestrate the shape, yet I can’t hold or smell the outcome.
I miss the rugged artwork I used to create.
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.
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