See that grey splodge at the top left corner? I had an accident...ink water spillage!
Taking advantage of the nice weather last week I took my drawing outside and crouched over (and sat upon) it on the grass in our back garden. I ended up pretty stiff and achy but at least I managed a little progress. At the same time I've been working on a smaller drawing (I'll post progress on this later), combining 2 drawing interests of mine, trees and running water. Dark running water to be exact. One of the pictures I am exhibting at the RBSA at the moment is called 'Dark water, Cumbria'. Something about dark water is intoxicating to me. Maybe I have a Narcissus complex? Maybe it just reminds me of the way my imagination works.
I have fresh dreams at the moment too, returning to my old obsession (nothing has come of it yet) of combining my visual and literary work. I have an idea of drawing a tree and hanging Haiku from its branches. I may even get round to doing it some day. But despite the pain my big drawing of a Scottish graffiti tree is causing me, I still haven't let go of my desire to make a REALLY BIG drawing. The other day as I was walking back into the house, the white painted wall (it's actually the external wall of our house, but internal to our verandah) cried out to me to have a long, lithe sheet of paper hung on it, tall as myself, taller even. A tree perhaps? Or maybe a waterfall? Dark water again, with trees dipping their moss covered toes into it? Whatever (if ever) I decide to draw, I'll have to get my hands on some new drawing tools, maybe I could make my own? I used to really admire Van Gogh's ink drawings, Van Gogh used a reed pen, and then there are a whole list of things you could improvise with, so I've read. Van Gogh's drawings, which I saw many years ago in the Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam, were not small either!
I've been exploring Flickr lately, there is just so much wonderful art on there, though like much that is on-line, just surfing is time consuming. I particularly like the work of Paul Heaston, his street scenes are just crammed with detail, wonderful pen and ink work. Paul's work also appears on Urban Sketchers a fantastic site, where artists submit their drawings of urban scenes. I wish I had the courage to stand out in the street and draw (though I must admit, I don't find my actual surroundnigs very inspiring), I did it years ago, when I was a student, and always found it nerve wracking. Now my nerves are even less robust, I don't know if I could actually get out there and do it. I prefer the sanctity and safety of my own 4 walls. Maybe I could try drawing from a window? But I don't know if my heart would be in it. My heart is deep in the woods, with the light bleeding down through the leaves, the earth smells pungent and damp, cool in the shade despite the sun's heat, and even the lightest, least significant movement of a bird or a squirrel makes a resounding crack or rustle as the little thing scampers through the undergrowth.
It's may not be my immediate reality, but it's still out there, and it's in here too. Stored, cherished, a part of me.
I have fresh dreams at the moment too, returning to my old obsession (nothing has come of it yet) of combining my visual and literary work. I have an idea of drawing a tree and hanging Haiku from its branches. I may even get round to doing it some day. But despite the pain my big drawing of a Scottish graffiti tree is causing me, I still haven't let go of my desire to make a REALLY BIG drawing. The other day as I was walking back into the house, the white painted wall (it's actually the external wall of our house, but internal to our verandah) cried out to me to have a long, lithe sheet of paper hung on it, tall as myself, taller even. A tree perhaps? Or maybe a waterfall? Dark water again, with trees dipping their moss covered toes into it? Whatever (if ever) I decide to draw, I'll have to get my hands on some new drawing tools, maybe I could make my own? I used to really admire Van Gogh's ink drawings, Van Gogh used a reed pen, and then there are a whole list of things you could improvise with, so I've read. Van Gogh's drawings, which I saw many years ago in the Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam, were not small either!
I've been exploring Flickr lately, there is just so much wonderful art on there, though like much that is on-line, just surfing is time consuming. I particularly like the work of Paul Heaston, his street scenes are just crammed with detail, wonderful pen and ink work. Paul's work also appears on Urban Sketchers a fantastic site, where artists submit their drawings of urban scenes. I wish I had the courage to stand out in the street and draw (though I must admit, I don't find my actual surroundnigs very inspiring), I did it years ago, when I was a student, and always found it nerve wracking. Now my nerves are even less robust, I don't know if I could actually get out there and do it. I prefer the sanctity and safety of my own 4 walls. Maybe I could try drawing from a window? But I don't know if my heart would be in it. My heart is deep in the woods, with the light bleeding down through the leaves, the earth smells pungent and damp, cool in the shade despite the sun's heat, and even the lightest, least significant movement of a bird or a squirrel makes a resounding crack or rustle as the little thing scampers through the undergrowth.
It's may not be my immediate reality, but it's still out there, and it's in here too. Stored, cherished, a part of me.
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