Notwithstanding that “why ask why” is a good adage, I still wonder to myself why I am fixated on flowers in vases. There are probably lots of reasons. I find one reason in a doodle, tucked in a pocket notebook, a drawing made during an anonymous day of a remote past. With lines that stretch upwards, a vase like a person who just stands there, the flowers having arms, lift them in a bodily gesture. All the things artists paint have stories or meanings tucked away inside them. Here the vase is like a being. The flowers that expand from its top are like arms that stretch out. Everytime I have drawn trees I’ve understood them that way too — as beings like human presences, their branches like arms.
I was a tree hugger avant la lettre. And am a flower hugger too.
Been pondering a mixed collection of incoming news events, including such topics as “how to write” and finding the “keys” to things (such as drawing). The latter is particularly poignant for me, being someone who (as regular readers know) frequently loses my keys and must continually be arranging search parties to find them. (No refreshments are served at these parties unfortunately.)
In other news, stringing ink lines around the imagined contours of household objects has continued to be my daily (and often nightly) preoccupation and holds the key (see above) to some future ambition. These humbler forms of drawing are “journeywork” for the great things I shall do someday. (This is a developing story.) They prepare the foundation for some unknown motif that I will make, something that I cannot even envision at present because it’s so far ahead on the arc of the circular space-time that composes my life (hat tip to poet Paul Squires).
Breaking News: While I was washing the dishes last night I dropped a large plate after the coating of soapy water caused the plate’s surface to slip from my hand, falling back into the sink below where other dishes were stacked. Fortunately, no dishes were broken. And no still life objects were present at the time of the accident.
Okay, I guess it’s not breaking news after all.
In other news, the mowers are cutting the grass on the pathway to the inner landscape. Try to stay out of their way while drawing with the blue ball point pen since the imaginary grounds keepers have trouble enough in their tasks when the conscious Self comes bumbling into the Subconscious properties. Visiting is still being permitted while the grounds-work takes place, the workers merely ask that you not tread too often away from the marked paths ….