Drawings
Sketching by the river is like chanting. The sound of the water and the rhythmic mark of my pen wash way sticky thoughts clearing my mind.
Pen, 8” x 10”
I sit on a rock trying to find a seat comfortable enough for an hour or more and look across the stream at the hidden folds of tree roots covered with moss. Earthy in rich decay, hiding worlds within worlds.
Pen, 8” x 10”
When I turn to a new page I fill the right side first, then the next time I draw the left. When the two drawings from different locations come together space loses its linear progression and the scene unites with just enough tension to make one wonder.
Pen, 8” x 10”
I grew up admiring how with the touch of his brush my great-grandfather made the leaves in his paintings tremble.
I am at a loss when the leaves fall and my pen can no longer get lost marking their overlaying pattern.
Pen, 8” x 10”
Why is water so hard to draw? I fall into the trap every time. I draw the rocks, leaves, and moss leaving the part I feel most uncertain about until the end. It’s like eating everything on my plate before I touch the broccoli.
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