I kind of think of this as shaking the dust off. It's been a long time since I've put anything in a sketchbook.
Again, shaking some dust off, but this time in relation to drawing a landscape, and seeing a landscape, each of its parts. This was almost a preparation for the first landscape project. I stopped at the park on my way home and enjoyed the composition of the scene and tried to capture it quickly in pen. Getting myself to have an idea, translate it and express it in line and to do it quickly, quickly, quickly.
An interesting thought on my way home. I love the look of cobblestone and river stone mortar structures. This was a well someone had in their front yard which was growing over with weeds, grass and little flowers. I wanted again to take a snapshot of this in my sketchbook, but quickly. I did it as I walked, sketchbook right in front of my nose.
I drew these each individually but in order from the top first to the bottom last and in one hour long shot. I love figure drawing, gesture drawing and continuous line drawings. I often try a combination of the parts when I allow myself to draw for the pure, selfish and intimate joy of drawing.
I did not intend for these to be shown in a grouping like this, but for some reason I enjoyed seeing it that way. It has a strange narative quality to it. Perhaps I see it as revealing some sort of internal dialoage or observation I was subconsciously having or making as I progressed from one sketch to the other. I can almost see an intelligent deduction and what information I found most interesting and my decision on where and how to communicate that information. I enjoy these.
No big story here. There's a strange seed/nut/fruit thing that in my ignorance of nature I have never seen (or perhaps more truthfully never paid attention to) before. I picked it up one day and carried it around with the hopes of drawing it, but never got around to it until the other day when I thought about it for some strange reason. I drew it simply because I was thinking about it. So, a little fun drawing and I have to admit, a little experimenting. I am just now breaking into art journals and the concept of art books, but the use of words/text is an element I have a lot of trouble with. It's uncomfortable (for some reason) for me to include text into my drawings. I'm a bit clumsy with it at this point, but I think with time I might settle into it and learn to utilize text as a creative drawn element.For now I have to admit I'm pumping out a lot of crap. It's like mental warm ups or a re-introduction to a long forgotten friend.
Hello pen, it's been a while. I forgot how it felt to hold you. I forgot what lines flow from your tips as my hands manipulate you across surfaces. I forgot the zen-like state I can so easily fall into, leaving the rest of the static of the world behind me.
It feels good to draw again, but I find myself at a strange impasse where I no longer feel like I draw for myself. Everything is a task, is a directive, is a weighted job that requires critique and scrutnization. Without that familiar context I seem to find it very difficult to engage the creative process. Very little art is/was done for the self, my self, over the past few years and that has left me feeling a bit disconnected, disjointed and disheartened about the entire process.
My mind is buzzing and afire with thoughts of what someone else will think, desire, see and ultimately experience when then look at what I do. In many ways this has been a benifit to me as I can create on demand and to order, however, I also feel like it's been a hinderance because it's kept me boxed into a very comfortable and specific zone of creativity, or a lack thereof. I seriously digress though. This leaves me at a quandry. Now I need to shake things up. I do want to push myself out of my comfortable little box and into more exciting areas of self-motivation and enjoyment. I'd like to be an artist because I want to be and I enjoy it. Where to go from here and how to re-introduce myself to that long lost friend is my current investigation.
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