.thoughts as progressive drawings.

An ongoing series of large loose drawings I have started over the past weekend. There is no real direction. The goal is to try not to be editorial about this. This project resembles the idea of logging into my sketchbook, except all in one large page and in a bigger format. This shall be the playground for ugly and beautiful things coexisting with incoherent to lyrical thoughts .

I thought that I should photo document each progression.

March 2009
Gray BFK Rives paper. Approx. 26 x 36" inches.
Mixed media.

.Making Her Feel Real Again.

Making Her Feel Real Again
drawing: tuscan red pencil, acrylic on 140 lb. watercolor paper
12" x 12" inches

It's one of those bizarre visuals that replays in my mind, or, rather, just sit as stills in my mind waiting to be expelled somehow.

The visual I see is of a man listening to a woman's head (no neck either) speak. She has no body. Nothing horrid or morbid about the scene even if the fact there's a woman's head without a body should I feel otherwise. It didn't feel like a nightmare either. Everything felt normal, yet bizarre. Even melancholic.

I heard the woman ask the man to make her feel real again. Make her whole. Find her a human body like she once had. Give her life as a human being back.

The man never gave up on helping her. I'm not sure if he ever found her a body since I suddenly found myself withdrawing away from the couple, almost like a panning effect. I leave the man kneeling in his living room floor cradling the woman's head. As I continue to gradually pull back from them I found myself lying on a couch in another living room watching them on a monitor. The image of them is only a still on the screen now. A photograph.

The living room I'm in is furnished in soft shades of white. Immediately to the left of the monitor is a glass door left ajar leading out to a patio where the sun softly reflects off of. I can't make out any details to the outside because of the sunlight. I fixate my attention to the patio's floor, which all I can see are hints of the gutter washed over by the bright reflected sunlight.

I felt no pain. The sunlight's reflection does not hurt my eyes at all. I felt hopeful for them.

Making Her Feel Real Again (earlier version)
drawing: ink on buffed paper
approx. 9" x 12" inches