While it has been raining in Australia, I have been drawing blogosphere friend Gabrielle Bryden using a photograph taken of her in her youth — her previous youth … she is still very youthful!
While it was raining somewhere far away, I was here in Washington DC’s famous blazing summer heat, and I decided to make one of those drawings you save for a rainy day — only it was raining somewhere very far away.
Here is the youthful Gabe of the mellow “relax” tee shirt whose face I used for this drawing.
The ball point pen’s ink gives off a sheen. Sometimes it looks faintly purplish. The paper I draw on has it’s own sheen. It feels smooth like a similitude of water. My hand is not steady, nor is my brain steady, late at night while I gaze at my invented pond. I can watch the pen produce the marks and fish appear, and except for the fact that of course these fish don’t swim away, each line forming — while it forms — has inside it some of the uncertainty of watching the real pond.
Then to darken the shadows, I make these hatch marks that are not water. And the pond becomes a drawing. The make believe of it swims in front of my face.
I like its being a drawing. I like the difference between the reality and a picture. I like its being flat. The sheen of the ink, the wavy unsteadiness of the lines, unsteady echos of the uncertainty in my head. Scribbles that are like innocent moments of time suspended and hanging in memory.