A long time ago I promised I would show everything I did in the studio, "good, bad, and ugly." Yesterday produced one drawing. I am very unsure if that drawing has quality worth showing. There are some playful parts to it, like the forehead, where I decided to scribble the line in many directions to produce the surface and its subtle undulations of form and light. Perhaps there is something worthwhile here; in any case, I can attest to discontent with my behavior. When I am in "the art-making groove" I rise above the actual making of the art; I feel my way through the activity, as if I am not part of it, but an observer of wonders unraveling in front of me. Composition, form, and light go through their journey, of questions and answers, without me being involved in a quantifiable, or verbally conscious, manner. This did not happen in this drawing. It did not feel good. Making this drawing felt awkward.
Nothing is going to happen in the studio today. My son is coming home for the Holidays. I am off to pick him up at the airport. Then we'll spend the rest of the day catching up.
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