The precious procedure of creativity. With just enough pressure, each stroke of the pen produces something lovely inside and out. Here, I’m using my calligraphy pens and brushes and both ink and watercolor to do some playful feel-good stuff. I’ve only used these pens and brushes with inks and/or watercolors a few times in the past couple (few now?) years. I couldn’t readily remember how things felt and worked. I created a signiture that was new to me and I’d never used before. I think it came out very nice. I like the the mixing of hues creates an unpredictable “you get what you get” kind of color on the paper. It feels human and pleasingly imperfect.
I wish I owned a store, just so I could call it MADNESS! I would sell all sorts of mad things, except it will be beautiful and trippy, and wicked, but it would smell good, so good.
Another good way to meditate is to rearrange the furniture and the things.
Best way to meditate: let your mind think whatever it wants, watch it play back its most worrisome details. Let it breathe while you watch it unfold safely inside you; with compassion, with understanding of its reasoning, with love. Thinking can be one of the most profoundly creative parts of us. And is without a doubt key to changing ourselves with focus, logic, and attention – all thinking things.
In fact, what I want most is to be understood. I think it is why comedy and the gift and power of laughter are so powerfully good. It is because in that moment you know you understand another person and you know they, too, understand you.
There is more to life, and it is all in my head.
(Obligatory) What kind of tree would you be?
I think I would be a pine. An evergreen. I think I would be a Juniper who is becoming a Ghost Eucalyptus. Similar trees, somehow. Dense, shadow-green leaves. Strippy, weeping bark. Incredible messy beauties, the both of them. Medicine and Fire trees, both.
(Honestly curious now) What kind of tree would you be?
Coldest reality meets inner warmth. (We, human souls, see wherein Light meets Dark. Everywhere else, we are blind. You can always choose inhumanity if you really want to know but don’t know better). Days feel better; longer.
My Gainsborough Cards
At the back of my 2008 sketchbook (last post), I found the pocket where I put a few things! One is a tiny envelope made from the page of a book. I was in a Moleskine drawing group for a bit (lots of anxious fun). Anyhow, this little envelope inspired me a lot. You could feel the love/happiness he, the artist who gave it to me, put into the making of it. Just somehow imbued a sweet happiness that he then shared. That had a bit influence as well.
I made these using the pages of a book about Gainsborough, the artist. Yeah, I destroyed an art book for the sake of arts (and crafts). I made a ton of envelopes, and I cut out facial profiles, gluing the edges to black paper squares, creating a sleeve in which one puts their correspondence. I bought a paper scoring device at Michael’s (Martha Stewart, I think). I loved making these.
Spring Blooms at Cold Creek
Portrait of a Cat
Haunted Spaces In My Home
I’m really enjoying documenting everything. Allowing one thing to flow into the next is the way to go, I think. Just let its natural time to be seen again come into being and then do my duty to portray it with love and respect. Like any good documentary does it, the interesting stuff is in-between words. It is interesting to be old enough to see your life in a new and different light. The experience of something in the past can change in several ways inside one’s own head, inside one’s own present experience.
A Little Sketch
An ice cream truck went by. It goes too fast, every time it passes. Isn’t that something the FBI would do? Be disguised inside an ice cream truck to do surveillance, but then drive too fast? The ice cream truck music freaks me out, regardless, but when it’s going by at a slightly faster than should be rate, it’s really not good. I hate it.
Billy Eichner. I like him.
This is my 2008 Sketchbook. I’ll be photographing and archiving every artistic work I ever did. It is fantastically informative to me. I feel/know somehow that it is something I will layer on top of and create something richer from. I sort of always felt nothing I did was ever good enough as time passed. Even after loving my own stuff while making it, thinking about each stroke, feeling it as an ecstatic moment as I was inside the moment of creation, something adult and hateful would come up and critique the bits and pieces of my life like a jealous demon would toward an innocent child…
Anyhow, here is 2008’s Moleskine sketchbook. At the end are some sketches from 2018 where I picked up this sketchbook to do some mindless watercolor doodling. I remember feeling at the time “I’ve lost my art-soul”, and that was very very depressing. I know that that is not true at all. Thankful for this jobless time, in a new place, to help me see that all that is beautiful about me has deepened through both grace and sorrow and charity of others toward me (thank you to those souls passing by me in Time). What am I saying? Oh, I’m saying that all is not lost.