Bring back the graphite

I've forgotten how lush and, I don't know, sensuous graphite can be. hard edges blending into soft graded areas. I have huge blocks of it... sometimes I am "off graphite" for a while because of the mess. I hate tracking it through the house. My cat tracks it through the house. Everything gets gray.
But Spring is here... I'm going to set up a wall for graphite drawing outside. Maybe the broad side of the shed.
Graphite lends itself well to mystery, to covering up secret things. It easily becomes that primordial pool or fog from which all things (good and bad) surface, float, arise, or recede.

'Soy-an-ar-a'

It must be the mood I'm in. These atmospheric drawings come easily sometimes.
I'll be away in Ireland for the next couple of weeks; I don't know what kind of internet access I'll have so I won't promise to update daily. Probably I'll save the drawings for when I get home. The west of Ireland is rich in drawing possibilities: the rocky landscape of the Burren, the stony coastline, the wintry skies. Heaven.
So, as my Dad said when speaking about his own death, 'Soy-an-ar-a' for now.

What lies beneath

I may have said this before, it comes up a lot when I draw... layering, thoughts and memories overlap- ping, surfacing for a time, blotting out one another, combining and redefining themselves. Sometimes being forgotten for years on end. It's what I think my subconscious landscape must look like. Sort of busy when disturbed, until the water settles again.
Who said "a thought should be like a bird flying through the sky, leaving no trace"?