The work feels slow, lethargic, contemplative, unoriginal. Could this be me hot, distracted by the sun and the warmth? Is this a summer thing? Simmer it is. Within me I wonder, plot, look for openings. Good actions seem few, not enough. Conflict leads to depression. I want to go to the beach. I also want to create new stuff. I will work it out.
Yesterday's drawing is sculptural. No horizon, just six objects creating their own space. I enjoyed stroking the forms, feeling it, particularly the large one, second from left. This must me a summer thing, like feeling the warmth of one's skin.
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