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.
It’s raining and all I have is a flimsy sheet of paper to wrinkle and bow. Plus, I lost or had stolen all my pens and pencils from my classroom.
This is what you do when the tools are in short supply and the weather keeps you in.
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.
What a fun Saturday morning sketching and creating a new sensation for my eyes. The world always opens up when one has patience and determination.
I am on to something I like; a looseness and sense of play.
More to come.
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.
Before I walk my dog, a sketch for the road.
This is not the surge or even something new. I am having trouble with that.
There has to be something more than just putting lines on paper. There has to be a little meaning for me.
This morning, I am the bag man, even though no monies have been exchanged. I decided to do some leather one more time, before moving on to something else.
It is impossibly hot outside and am trying to find anything in the house worthy of a look. In this case, I chose my messenger bag. It carries my artwork, art tools and anything useful for the day. It’s sort of like a purse, but larger and more utilitarian.
It was a gift from my friend Kathy, and have found it worthy of a carry everyday.
This is a cafe on Frankfort Avenue http://www.pleaseandthankyoulouisville.com (the same as the telephone poles). Recently opened, I decided to step in and gauge the atmosphere. I am not sure if it was my glasses, but everyone looked to be wearing jeans that resembled swizzle sticks.
I sat and illustrated the scene for an hour or so, until I had to give it up. The coffee was bitter and the midday business transactions felt vaguely familiar and uncomfortable.
Having made the decision not to step back into the business world means: no business talk, taking orders, discussing deals, etc. As a former art director, I now look at color and shape for myself.
Surveying where I sit and feeling safe is criteria number 1 where I eat. If they come, I have my escape route planned. Execution is a quick leap and out.
Staircases offer none of the above. Either direction, the geometry is not your best friend. Either way, “you’re going down”. Damn venues made from old houses.
Parachutes can’t pop open in tiny spaces.