When I was a teen, my grandfather had alzheimers, a failing heart, and half of one lung. He was covered with scars and sometimes muttered at walls.
I was asked to keep an eye on him, briefly, one afternoon, while my grandmother did something else. While I was alone with him, he looked at an empty space right next to me, and whispered: "Mom? Dad? Is that you?"
With the exception of getting hit by a car, that was the most terrifying moment of my life.
I like to think of this as the grassroots of doodling, the origins: people waiting in hospitals with nothing but a pen to ward off boredom and insanity.
There is an old children song in my language talking about a little girl that his grandpa have a stars tree.. I heard yesterday and just had to draw it!
it’s basicly an ink drawing with acrylics underneath on canvas. This is a detail of the big picture. I photographed it and then layered it with its mirrored picture.
Yo amo los mundo sutiles, ingrávidos y gentiles, como pompas de jabón. Me gusta verlos pintarse de sol y grana, volar bajo el cielo azul, temblar súbitamente y quebrarse... (A. Macado)
