Now that Fall has hit, I can sit outside without sweating, being stung and sunburn.
Yesterday, I sat and watched the comings and goings, couples drinking coffee and a little dog who snapped at the patrons.
Finally, a day for celebration. It was my pre-birthday and celebrated with my best friend with lunch and a cocktail.
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.
While waiting to eat lunch with my friend Kathy and family; I started sketching. Near, was an industrial coffee grinder that looked cast out of the hardest metals. The shapes were formed, banged and screwed.
Of course I had to start a drawing. However, everyone came and I couldn’t finalize what I saw.
Late today, I started to look at it and decide if it was worth putting more ink on paper.
Glad I did.
Hey, why not ride a motorcycle that looks like it was designed in the 40s. More so, put a ridiculous stereo on it, an American flag to show you are “a real American” and then strip.
Strip all common sense for your safety and the safety of your partner. After all, you ride a Japanese knockoff of some other famous brand. You know the one, the motorcycle that will soon use Europe as a more reasonable method of manufacturing. But you are one with the air and the road.
Fly on little wing, ride on.
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.
With a maniac in the White House hell-bent on nuclear destruction, there is no better time to plan my move. Shall it be a step from the 80s or a Chuck Berry duck walk? Either way, adequate footwear is a must for hot cinders, radioactive tap dancing or a cha cha cha.
Get me out of here! This is nuts.
This is my first illustration 5 days after surgery. It felt good to feel the texture of the paper and hear the scratch of a pen.
Being a first, I am thrilled to have a working hand with no pain and full control. However, it’s been 2 months since I last touched pen to paper.
I need to retrain myself.