Tuesday, June 30, 2015

Contrast

Contrasting the natural and the man-made always tells a story ... 


Friday, June 26, 2015

"Don't know why there's no sun up in the sky ..."

America has had some wicked weather this season. Today it's hot, with lots of summer rain. tornadoes were touching down just south of here last night. Be safe.


Tuesday, June 23, 2015

The hum of the hive

I was meditating the other day, thinking about being part of, not separate from, a much greater whole. Bees are that ... going about their business, not thinking too much, getting it done, getting through. All of them.


Friday, June 19, 2015

Touch, kiss

I love objects that reach out to other objects, touch, kiss, invite, repel, resist.


Tuesday, June 16, 2015

Monday, June 15, 2015

Sunday, June 14, 2015

Past is present

There's something homey about my same old drawing tools: china marker, paraffin, brass rubbing sticks, ink pen. I keep going back there, even as I move forward with color and collage. Like visiting Mom.


Thursday, June 11, 2015

Red

I hardly know what to say about this, except that it's color like I've never used before. The old woman with the crown is an aerial view of a body of water turned on end, a happy find.


Wednesday, June 10, 2015

Lorna's tree

This hawthorn tree lives in my friend Lorna's back yard in Ballyvaughan, County Clare. Some of them are fairy trees, and the Irish have been known to route highways around them rather than cut them down (bad juju). This one leans away from the wind and often sparkles with raindrops. I wish I was there now, looking out the kitchen window, drawing fast as the light fades. 


Tuesday, June 2, 2015

The Weight

Venice Biennale 2001: I've been thinking about a series of drawings (his studio wall drawings?) Keith Tyson exhibited in the Padiglione Italia ... one was a black monolith hanging from the top of the paper, almost crushing, certainly controlling/condensing everything beneath it. I'm still trying that on here and there.


Monday, June 1, 2015

Set the stage

What it's like when someone else is pulling the strings, making up my story...