Still collecting sea shells far from sea. The colored pencil scribbles have won my heart. The merits of any particular medium draw one in — but sometimes also the way that a tool resists helps one think. The blunt ends of the pencil have made me look at all the edges in the picture as more porous than I had hitherto considered them. And then the shell itself becomes porous as well. It seems to enlarge in its associations. Do I hear the sea inside its chambers? Does its pearlescence tell of other kinds of light, of dawns and twilights in distant skies? What lies behind the veil of any drawing — or more’s the point — what lies behind the veil of the object itself? The photons it scatters into my vision. And what is its meaning? Especially after the creature who made it has long left it behind?
Aletha Kuschan's Weblog 
tres tres beau, j’aime beaucoup la texture du coquillage et sa reflexion dans le bleu.
Merci, Ben.