There's a big drop of black ink spilled near the center... It's like that bit of ink just couldn't wait to be part of the art. Sometimes a rough sketch takes on a life of its own.
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.
"Girl & Death". What started out as two separate pieces for Upfest in Bristol, slowly merged into one collaborative painting. On the left my part, on the right the artwork by Luke Gray (http://lukegray.net)
My husband has a chronic illness and frequently spends weeks in the hospital. I have been doodling each day while sitting with him and many of them reflect my thoughts at the time. Often appearing are desperation, hope, frustration, sarcasm, fear.
