I have a backyard full of hostas. They are in full sun and shade, marked by the variegated and non-variegated versions. I like them for their ease and how they fill an area with green. Plus, they are a living sculpture to watch, as they move in the wind.
Sculpture of muscle and skin, light and dark; smooth plains. As much carving as possible, without hammer and point.
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.
Saturday night I guess is “selfie night” and now, a tradition. I like doing them because illustrations of one’s self are enemy number 1. I hate the line of the nose or curl of the ear. Nothing is perfect my mind’s eye.
Might as well be a “Saturday Night Massacre”. Bang.
How can one not like a finely balanced utensil for cutting a morning pastry.
No words, just lines.
I can only imagine the chef seeing this image and saying, “Barry, did you drop acid?”.
Actually, I was listening to The Cranberries (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ky4CdN0x58A)and couldn’t help but feel happy, colorful and that I was pushing the pedal to the metal.
Ever feel that way?
Tick tock, tick tock… I get up at 05:00 each morning with a passion for coffee. Even my cup is precious, and wear this routine year-round.
I could say that my cup and drink are a happy warmth along my lips. I’ll leave it a that.
Uh huh.
Thank you Rebecca (http://www.thepaintedpear.com) for inspiring me to try something just with line and form. After looking at your site today, I definitely grew hungry to do a selfie with a more accurate interpretation of self. Of course accurate and interpretation may not balance to all, but to me they are inclusive and as real as it gets.
Anyway, no color necessary and a welcome adventure into the black, using my handmade paper. Yes, it was a quickie for me.
A couple of hours ain’t nothing.
The houses in my neighborhood are close. In some places 2 meters for those outside the US. You can hear the neighbors arguing and their dogs barking indoors. It is an old neighborhood set higher than the river which floods and is call The Highlands.
Blustery and Fall seem to be upon us.
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