I can’t find anything on my shelves because they grab, prod and remind. They are constantly reminding me of Leonard Cohen biographies, poetry, PMS charts and a few schoolbooks.
I am reminded how heartbroken I can be and feel loss more acutely. When something means more and more, then discover it is lost; it hurts.
There is a fear in the depth of despair.
There are the drapes and the clutter, who hide behind the boxes and move like film among the wires; to the beat of Saturday while alone.
I am whiplash green and not a Spartacus in shades of brown.
After looking at some of Michael Ehrhardt’s work this week, I became inspired. He is an accomplished and prolific German artist, who works in acrylics.
He is masterful.
My artwork defines itself lately by scribing my thoughts in pen, and wanted to give something new a try. I wanted to share the punctuation of line, with an inappropriate/inconsistent/landscape-like background.
I like and may integrate more into my work. Thank you for the inspiration.
This proves to me that art should be done everyday, not every other day… each day.
Otherwise, you get this.
I am drawing circles hoping to find my rhythm; the mojo queen in my creative desert. It’s no fun to feel abandoned and thirsty.
Drinking gut punched coffee and getting dirty, does the trick. The feeling that your guts are quenched in browns and steam.
Love the line, shape and quickie look.
With dismay, the wind blew her handkerchief far above the city. Out of reach, she hoped it would block the unsightly tower.
It never became popular.
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.