I have been feeling very uninspired and even not wanting to draw lately. But according to my practice I sit and start drawing and try to get that inner chorus of critics and helpful suggestors to go sit in another room while the part of me that has no words comes up with some kind of image.
I hope they are interesting enough, and at least speak in the language of dreams.
if I were clever with words I’d call this something like “enter the roo-mantis of the apocalypse” or have a story made up about it. I have friends who do a much better job of captioning my pictures than I ever can – which I greatly appreciate!
ants chilling at a picnic
Sometimes these drawings just fall out like dreams at the end of the day. When I wake in the morning and go to get the drawing to scan it, I have no memory of what I drew the night before, or how it came to be.
Not far from where I live is a pond on a mountain, filled with lily pads and enormous bullfrog tadpoles that make ripple rings when they come up to gulp some air.
Finding refuge in beautiful geometries
I don’t often go back and work on a drawing after posting, but this one seemed worth it
these hot dry days I’m looking for angels of water
echoes of memories of songs of the lake