The crossing of lines has always been a way I have wanted to drawing. Making a space transparent or opaque with little openings that can't be denied. Here the open and closed places that obscure most of the marks asks me to seek them out. Only a slight tonal variation. I feel as if I'm standing in the shade.
Yesterday in my studio I took my eye off the worktable when the sound of the rain on the roof interrupted my concentration.
Nature presses itself forward. An abundance of greens in different textures. Just a couple sticks and fallen seeds and pods. The squirrels have been busy in the graveyard.
Is this what I imagined it was?
It's a moment in my memory when I walk through the trees past the swaying evergreens. The edges are dripping with dew and I can feel the rain on the top of my cap.
A circle, a line, a couple dots.
Back to the minimum and exploring the special marks I can make when I minipulate the tools.
They float and compliment each other as they pass by. More poetry than prose.
Draw it then hide it. That’s what I was thinking. I find that the work that is about the edges always comes to the surface sooner or later.
Even experimentation outside the comfort zone can lead back to the exterior tension.
Bringing in the figure 8.
Experimenting with a repetitive motion that is lyrical. The making of a shape only once in a drawing. In this drawing it felt like a string.
Tomorrow my studio is going to meet two cleaning mad women.
It's sorta like a chainsaw isn't it?
This drawing was a response to the quiet minimalism of the last few drawings. Felt like I had a whole new energy moving. Chaos controlled.
