This winter has been devoted to greeting cards, and gifts. With my lack of energy in the winter, I’ve had a hard time being able to tackle much in the way of creative work. Part of my brain hibernates, I swear, and lies dormant until March.
Looking at my previous winter’s output, there a lot of drawings I’m not proud of. A waste of time and materials.
I also have another type of work I like to do. I’m thinking of combining decals of my good, spring, summer and fall work, with the elements of Danbury rocks…and make objet’s d’arte. Also, do the same with functional items…sorry of a Roxanne’s Shabby Chic. So, I have plans not to waste another winter…..
And as we have this March blizzard outside, I feel more content and inspired than I have f0r months.
As I was working on “Sunday’s Stream of Consciousness”, Dearly Beloved looked at it, and said “You’re no Bob Ross”. I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, good or bad. Turns out he meant my trees are not happy, although they do have friends….
So, here it is, a drawing done nearly spontaneously with not a lot of prior planning. A stream of creatively, maybe, not consciousness, but a stream none the less.
So, now I’ve used my more precious than gold paper. Until I have money to restock it, I’ll be doing some note cards. See you soon!
For those who may have figured it out…with the use of the technique similar to Zentangles, I am trying to stay in as meditative a state as I do this as possible. There for the “Conscious” works its way into this picture. I’ve been doing very little planning of this, as I would most drawing. One line leads to another, and such as that.
However, another conscious technique, as I have noted before, is coloring. You can see, that as I drew my mindful lines, I managed to develop something that looks very much like a coloring book. This was totally unintentional, but I’ll take it and run with it. So, I intend to color it, one color leading to another, absorbed in the process, not worrying about the plan.
How far I have come from my drawings (which in pride I referred to as “paintings”) of many years ago, sweating over details as part of an exhaustively planned composition. Case in point:
Drove me freaking nuts! It’s named “Threshold”, the title of this given to me by another good friend. But, My God, what was I thinking?
As I start this drawing, I’m reminded of the words my teachers would say to me. “Don’t draw every leaf. Make a pattern of the light and shadow of the foliage, and just give a hint of texture”. Okay, yes, that makes for wonderful landscapes. However, what if I do want to draw every blessed leaf?
In abstract art, people often talk about it being the process, not the result. It’s a cliche, and as I always am aware, words become cliches because there is truth to them. Even very naturalistic artists talk about being in the zone, where there is nothing but the artwork and themselves.
Which brings me back to Zentangles….yes, you remember me talking about Zentangles. The “zen” part of it, relates to the state of consciousness that you get when you concentrate on a repetitious task. So, considering the process, and the state of mind in the zone, I damned well am going to draw every leaf.
Case in point, this drawing I did when I was approximately half the age I am now. I took my teachers’s advice on the trees, but the grass? I drew every blade, and I don’t regret it. It was relaxing, and on top of it, I discovered I could make the grass in a pattern that complemented the composition. Yes, it was all very Zen.
Boy, Sundays can sure drag. As I wait for Monday, so I can resume my job search, the minutes pass by slowly.
I have but one piece of good paper left to do a drawing on. So, it had better be good. So, here’s the story:
Last winter, I went for a walk with some friends in a bit of a wilderness area. Took a picture of what I thought would make a good drawing. Looking at it again, I decided it would make a good piece of artwork..that is, if you’re Bob Ross. Not to undermine anyone’s admiration of the man, he was a good soul, however, I’m not a big fan of his work.
Back to the story. I decided to do a small sketch of the scene, to see if I could be excited about it enough to use my precious last sheet of paper. Even after doing that, I was undecided as to whether I could come up with anything original from it.
So, I showed it to my friend Peggy. She came up with the title for it, “Sunday’s Stream of Consciousness” Wow. With a title like that, how could I decide to discard the idea? Now, if only I could come up with a visual angle to live up to that elegant name.
I’ve been working on a drawing. First version, I tried to do completely from imagination, and that turned out to be doomed to the trash can. I should know better by now, that I need good reference pictures to do something believable.
Then, good references in hand, I redid the drawing. This time, I was satisfied with it, but when it came to writing this blog, I couldn’t think of anything to say. Yes, that can actually happen! I was at a loss for words.
Flashback to my short-lived, day job of last month. Everyone was thrilled about the Super Moon in December. As I stood in below freezing weather, waiting a half hour to the bus, I would gaze to the east. There was the Super Moon, on the horizon. The sky was pink like the inside of a seashell. So, impressed that I was, I decided to draw it.
And that’s that. No metaphor comes to mind for it. I can’t think of anything to say, except “This scene was pretty so I drew it”. Those are the only words for it.
Facebook is letting me know that I’m letting my followers down. Sorry about that. Truth is, I’ve had the flu! It’s hard to concentrate on drawing, art, and making sense of things in general, when you’re coughing your throat up, and your sinuses are as clogged as The Long Island Expressway at rush hour.
Not to mention, that the almighty dollar has been elusive these days. I’ve been job hunting, too.
So, here’s a drawing of my flu, with fever:
And here’s the logjam on the job hunt:
Now you have it! An interpretive illustration of my past week. Better days coming.