Too Deep

Nothing is what it looks like,

and by the time I learn

it's too late.

Stand on nothing and pretend you understand.

I don't know anything

except this:

we're all wrong.

Unfinished drawing.
Watercolor and ink on 18" x 24" paper

Wind-up

wind-up

the memory of action

freezes into a motionless instant

let go

the memory becomes movement

until everything churns to stillness

we can't forget

because our past lives in our bones

our tendons curled tightly 

around everything we ever did

let go

and everything that happened once

happens

again.

Organic form: Wind-up
Blue pencil on 3" x 5"

Sketch

I've been doing a lot more thinking than drawing lately.  I fill books with practice sketches and concept drawings, but the more deliberate art pieces need some time.

Here's one of my sketches from the day.

Untitled sketch:
charcoal, acrylic ink, chalk, and canté
on 18" x 24" brown paper

The Real Reason I Climb Trees

I find myself drawn to physical danger.

Lately, I climb trees—the taller the better—until I get so high up that no one sees me, that I can feel the wind swaying the branches, that I know falling would result in much more than bruises.
There are times that I just climb trees because it's fun, but this is different.

To say I'm fearless would be a lie.  If I didn't experience at least some fear, the endeavor would lose its point.  It's not that I like that feeling that if I let go I would die, either.

I get myself to this point because it makes sense.

As I climb higher, every instinct in me begins to wake up and pay attention.

I'm keenly aware of the importance of holding on,

the importance of paying attention,

the importance of avoiding failure.

Letting go would kill me.

I live on that edge.

Being there physically just helps me remember:

letting go would kill me.

A tree in a dead forest on Wedge Mountain:
remnants left from a forest fire

Walking too Far in the Wrong Direction

Let go for an instant,

and everything falls apart.

Sketch made with chalk, charcoal, ink, and canté crayon

The Cycle

If it breaks you,

break it back.

"And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away. For it is better that you lose one of your members than that your whole body go into hell." 

 —Jesus of Nazareth

"The Cycle"
14" x 17"
Mixed Media on Inking Paper

Made with charcoal, red chalk, acrylic and india inks, and sharpie.

Exquisite Corpse

Some of you may have heard of the game "Exquisite Corpse."

This is how it works: one person starts a drawing, and another--having seen only a sliver of the first part--finishes it.

It's a pretty entertaining game, but it can also be a challenging and fascinating exercise.


I have the privilege of working with Immy, a talented artist in the UK (check out some of her work here: http://www.redbubble.com/people/immy) on an exquisite corpse collaboration.

First, I created half a drawing.  In the mean time, she has also created half of one, but I'm not allowed to see it yet.

I covered up all but about half a centimeter of mine with cardstock.  Tomorrow I'll mail it to her, she'll mail hers to me, and we'll finish them.


Here's what my contribution to one of them looks like.

8" x 8"
Pencil on vellum

Details.

Life is a fragile thing, entirely built out of details.

I have a hard time caring about details.

Then I remember: that's all I am.

Organic Form: Teeth Bracelet
3" x 5"
Vermillion Pencil on Paper

Untitled
2' x 3'
Mixed Media on Wood Panel

Self Portrait
18" x 24"
Chalk and Charcoal on Brown Paper

Circles inside Circles

Circles inside circles inside circles

Patterns of sounds

meaning buried under sound

Break the circle with a word

and find a word 

inside a word 

inside a word

inside a word

word

word

shut up.

"Disease, pt. 2"
18" x 24"
Charcoal on Paper

Wet Cement

It's interesting how things turn out.  

Things crumble apart, or sometimes get stuck in a horrible position like that one man who got coated in cement in the Flintstones movie.  

I think I was 7 or 8 when I saw that in the theater, and the image has stuck in my head ever since. 

I think about how there's a period where the cement is still wet and you can move, change, decide, get into messes, but pretty soon it hardens and you're stuck forever.

I have to keep moving.

I don't want to be stuck like this.  

"Disease, Pt. 1"
18" x 24"
Charcoal on Paper

"Organic Form - Fish"
3" x 5"
Pencil on Paper