Here is a sneak peaks of my submission to the Home Sweet Home Challenge. I loved this challenge because it forced me to do something I never would have, which gave me happy surprises as I worked through it.
I have been watching a lot of sci-fiction lately. Like so many others my age or younger, the weight of global warming sits on my shoulders constantly. I imagined the final trek through a wormhole as someone sees their new solar system for the first time. I enjoy the bright colors and such but wish I conveyed a more bittersweet emotion.
To draw is to notice.
To notice is to pause.
And sometimes, all it takes is a barefoot boy in a camping chair, chasing the drips of a popsicle, to remind us what it means to be here.
This is Popsiclence—a sacred kind of focus.
It’s where observational drawing leads us: out of the swirl, into the now.
And in that now, we heal.
A quick sketch filled in later with charcoal and ebony pencil. "The sweetness and delights of the resting-place are in proportion to the pain endured on the Journey. Only when you suffer the pangs and tribulations of exile will you truly enjoy your homecoming." -Rumi
Maia, one of two current German Shepherds was born here at our house ten years ago. She is a grand old lady with a big ears, a big ruff and a sweet personality. This drawing was done from a photo reference AND her sleeping at my feet. I used Pigma Micron Pens in black and brown with a little graphite smudging to add a bit of shadow.
The image is of an evening scene after a sweet rain. After the sun sets, the Sunset vibes pop up. Pink skies are much more beautiful when roads are wet.
A silly watercolor sketch, I know, but there's a lot tied to this little thing. There are so many bittersweet feelings lately. I tend to avoid putting a numerical value to time, I don't like the count-down aspect to things, especially knowing how obsessive I can be with that. It allows me to live in some semblance of ignorance (they say ignorance is pure bliss). There's a lot of tip-toeing around what I want to say and what I'm afraid to say, or even what I'd love to explore and embrace and simply afraid to. It's something I'm not used to. It's taken me quite a while to finally sit with certain things, or even acknowledge them, and it feels like there's so much more I'm now realizing. It's odd to be so frank to some and worried that others may find out. There's a lot of shifting again, goodbyes coming soon, complicated feelings and situations.
Joseph Cornell (1903–1972)
Cornell worked nights at the kitchen table, sorting and assembling materials for his boxes. It was not easy going. Some nights he felt too fatigued from his day job to concentrate on his art and would sit up reading instead, switching on the oven for warmth. In the mornings, his quarrelsome mother would scold him about the mess he’d left at the kitchen table; without a proper workroom, Cornell was forced to store his growing collection of magazine clippings and dime-store baubles out in the garage.
In 1940 Cornell finally mustered the courage to quit his job and pursue his art full-time—and even then his habits changed little. He still worked nights at the kitchen table, while his mother and brother slept upstairs. In the late morning he would head downtown for breakfast at his local Bickford’s restaurant, often satisfying his sweet tooth with a Danish or a slice of pie (and lovingly cataloging these indulgences in his diary).
- From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey
#dailyrituals #inktober #JosephCornell @masoncurrey
Medusa has always been one of my favorite mythology figures . And ... well, here comes the rant , I'll never quite forgive Athena for making her like this . Ironically, I've only really seen Medusa in her monster form , and this form , in all its unique fierceness , is what I've always been attracted to . I know I'll probably get a lot pf flack for this ... so I'll just quit while I'm ahead . Enjoy the cute pic .
