The honey jar occupies one little corner of the still life. In each drawing it has a slightly different character. Isn’t it neat that inanimate objects can call forth all sorts of hidden feelings? And the honey jar in particular, with its faceted sides, is also a clock — catching the time in the changes of the light as light moves through the day.
The jar drawn at night is rough and blank. Dark scribble shadows come near.
While the morning honey jar has a frog and bee companions — and has light for a friend.
Morning comes with all that brilliant light. Everything looks clear. How lovely the light is in the morning, crystalline, warm. Morning coffee at hand, a blue ball point pen, and things to draw. The white paper is a light too. I want to put a line around each thing, and I’m glad there’s a lot of things too.
Late night is a good time to draw too. When you are tired, drawing takes on a different character. The lines appear, the hands move, and the mind’s movements are there, but in a sleepy, less fastidious way. I am more hurried and more careless late at night. I almost draw as though just to get the drawing done so I can sleep, but the consequence is that I let myself freely react. I stop thinking so much. It’s a good discipline, using Night to turn off the censors.