I haven’t had time the past two weeks to get much farther with this, but I’m hoping to get back to it on the weekend. Here’s where I left off in my motion tests and atmospheric meanderings.
I stayed home last night; missed several parties, missed toasting with friends who I’ve not seen enough of. A head cold has been slinking ‘round the door for a few days (probably a few weeks), and by Midnight it’d overtaken me. I didn’t have any the past two winters, but I’ve been burning candles at both ends lately, so I can’t be too surprised or upset.
Despite feeling poorly, it’s not a bad thing to cross the threshold of a new year quietly and in solitude. I did this little drawing to mark the changing of the guard. (I added the snow on a whim, though clearly those aren’t winter trees, all clad in leaves.)
I’d hoped for a cold-bright wander on New Year’s Day, but that’ll have to wait for better health. Glad tidings, with a few sniffles! I’ll see what I can make of it. More drawing, whether for me or my freelance project, will make a fine start of things for 2018.
I also love Old. That’s neither here nor there. I’ve been feeling like a teenager again, lately. In the sense where I’m acutely aware how temporary so many people in one’s life tend to be. It’s not a judgement call; only acknowledgement of reality.
Most folks are temporary. There’s a time during which you overlap. It ends.
The thing to always remember is that you’re permanent. Be permanent to yourself. A solid. And recognize those who exhibit permanent qualities in return— they’re your rocks. Will help get you to your True North. The Keepers.
In the ellipses between
drops of rain
In the space between pale night’s end
and grey morning
I find you.
I find forgotten things.
Between lines of writing
in the pages of books
yellowing in drawers
and on shelves,
In the leathery slips
between their bindings—
And in the spaces
between the notes of songs
not yet written.
In the dry crack
precipitating the death
of an incandescent bulb,
that moment the knob twists
(an old brass lamp)
I hear whisperings,
stories long forgotten
or things confused
with memories or dreams,
I find everything, and
In the spaces between
things, now, I find
I’ve no recollection of what these plans / designs were intended for; sketches at least 18 years old. Regardless of their erstwhile infamy, I don’t know what the three screens were about, and don’t know to what room these referred. And what on earth is “Model of Strategy”? It had to be for work (“Time to Market” is a phrase I’d never use otherwise. But there’s a midget!? Or I was just taking the piss.)
At any rate, I’m fond of both the spirit and execution of these sketches.
In the case of the studies (second set in particular), I believe the finished pieces lost something in the translations; the faces are more expressive in the studies, the light and shadows more dramatic and compelling.
Apologies! This was meant to post yesterday— the danger of three day weekends; one forgets what day it is.
Anyway, I love this drawing! It’s an illustration that I did (in ink) as a full page for a magazine layout project back in the day. It’s my friends Kelley, Thomas, and Sean (but they were in the cafeteria at Pratt, not a cafe).