Sometimes you think you are drawing the subject, but really you are drawing thoughts making a passage through your mind. The flowers were just flowers, and I wasn’t even aware of portraying them so much as I was just watching lines come out of the end of a gel pen.
A line’s appearance holds a fascination for me. And I watch it form as a baby does who sees a mark being made for the first time.
I remember when my daughter was a baby, and I scribbled on paper for her to see as she sat in her high chair. And she studied the lines intensely as though they were fantastic occurences. And I thought to myself “yes! that’s exactly right! this wasn’t here before and now it is! and the line comes into being like magic.”
What frantic flowers I drew here. Light and shade wave their arms like soccer fans in the stadium. And the blue is relevant, too, I think. Like a sky all in fragments. Evocative of sky. Oh, the airy sky that you know a flower loves. Air and sunlight.
Have you seen those time-lapsed pictures of flowers, how they move? Whoever thought this was still life wasn’t paying attention. It holds the intensity of a bull fight. It is high drama. The dream that I am dreaming.
The lines are kind of crazy, and yet they are living vital bits of gel pen sky blue. The fields. The air. The light. The life you are living. And the planet rolling in space. Oh, the adventure of it. Even on a shelf in the corner of a room.