Edges

Today the beach was flat and pristine. Receding waves left salt edges - overlapping, entwining and rubbing out each other as they flowed back into the bay. Nothing else, only a scuffed gull print here, a pearly stone there.
It all reminded of drawings I made a couple of years ago, where I discovered that it was the spaces in between things, everything that interested me – the shadow, the light, the energy – not any thing itself. Mystery and aura and potential at the edges where we (they) lurk for not belonging.
It's all wrong, this gray of graphite, I mean the color is wrong. But the experience of drawing it is right. What is colored graphite?

Wait wait

Yeah, these are not new pieces, as I had predicted in yesterday's blog. Excuses? Naw, just work, life, etc. So, help yourself to two more 7-minute pieces, and the last of the reasonably good ones.
Today I was uploading images for a show at a college in North Carolina. I found, to my interest, that of 20 or so drawings I was considering, hardly any of them made the grade for me. These were pieces I previously felt way good about. Am I changing? Sure. Am I raising the bar? Perhaps. Am I just having a bad day?
It always comes down to this for me: Work a lot more. Make a lot more drawings. Use the bad ones for wrapping paper or insulation or mulch or kindling...

Seven minute drawing

I spent about an hour this morning making quick drawings and reveling in the graphite. I've been thinking about it a lot lately. A lot of them were nothing special, but, as always, drawing is better than not drawing.
My work is often about the same things: fragments of living – or previously living – beings. Or records that resemble cave drawings: animals taken down for food, seed pods, marine life, entrails, leaves and stems, genitalia... what sustains us. What we need.
I think maybe tomorrow I'll try working on a more interior level... see how the images might change.

"Shake it up"

I got this block of brick red crayon from my friend Emma Hoolihan. I went to her house to draw one night, we drank a lot of wine and made a huge wall drawing. I love this color and it shows up in my work from time to time. Like blood, or lightening, or loss, it sparks things up in a serious way. I'm getting through the day, minding my own business, taking care of business, and then, BANG, something big and unavoidable cuts across my interior landscape. Change is good, right?

Anything can be animated

I think this piece is about animation, the elements almost begging to be bounced off one another, combined, altered, destroyed and reborn. Filament, fog, blurring, focusing, attracting and repelling.
The animation thing is worth pursuing for sure, I've been collecting segments in the last couple of months, waiting for that big idea... Time to move on with the moving images. Looking for a story to tell.
I'm a bit distracted tonight. Tomorrow we are doing the "Polar Plunge" out at the Oceanfront to benefit Special Olympics. Yikes. The water should be a balmy 40°F. I think I can't wait for it to be over.

'I'm nobody, who are you?'

I'm taking yesterday's simplicity lesson to heart. I love this sort of tension set up between two objects. Confrontation... with myself? Or with my other self? Or with you?
I spent the rest of the day erasing the big drawing and sanding the paper. It's all process. It's all good.

Mouse/garlic

Lately I've been denying myself the use of my favorite materials – parafin, china marker, bronze rubbing sticks, graphite for some – and working with an ink pen. Well, here's a lapse at left. I crave rich blacks and grays and love how the wax resists almost everything I put on over it. I use some unconventional tools too, the 3M pot scrubber would have to be at the top of the list for polishing and sanding, spreading and buffing and eradicating. This particular piece is a quick, fresh study, unlike some where I can work the surface for days.
The spontaneous, sort of "no mind" pieces like this one often hold something precious for me. They are a record of that time spent, the aura of the day. Sometimes they remind me of awareness or clearness, sometimes I remember the contemplation or the humor or the movement and energy.