It's big, it's messy, and I feel set free somehow.Ebony pencil and paraffin... reaching back while looking forward. There's something so right about scrubbing away with that pencil right down to the nub.
I'd like to say I've pushed these drawings about as far as I can, but what really happens is I get more fearful - no, wrong word - more rigid, less likely to take a chance with them, less adventurous... and now they are less interesting.
This morning Hal and I were talking about ideas, where they come from, how to lay the ground work for more, how to recognize them when they do come...
Restless, though benign I think, souls are stirring the air around here. I can almost feel them wandering through rooms, going through the refrigerator, hiding my pencils.
Bell jars and other vessels have been in my dreams lately. I seem to notice them all around me.