This drawing began life perhaps thirty years ago. The first image here is of that version. I worked on it up to a certain point, got interrupted, stopped and never got back to it.
That was a time of many changes in my life. I packed much of my artwork away and out of sight.
Paper is so fragile that this ink-drawing remained hidden away somewhere “safe” until I pretty much forgot all about it and the others like it.
They all surfaced again, very recently, when I decided to bring them to the US.
This one (below) was incomplete. I dithered about including it with the others, then told myself that I’d bring it along just so that I could finally complete it.
I wasn’t sure that I could return to that style of drawing after such a long pause. I no longer use the same kind of pens, for instance: Rotring pens, with their delicate tubular nibs and the dense black ink that’s such a nuisance to clean out of the nibs.
I don’t have functioning Rotring pens any more. So I knew I’d have to compromise, and use a fine-tip felt pen (MICRON series, .02)
I left the drawing alone for two months, unsure if I had the energy to plunge back into that particular way of drawing.
It’s not planned out at all. There’s no pencil work. Instead, it’s like an extended form of scribbling, like when you’re talking on the phone and doodling idly on the back of an envelope.
It really is like that – growing organically – but scaled up, using a large sheet of good paper.
So five days ago, I decided to give it a go. I wish I’d taken pictures every fifteen minutes! I love the idea of being able to see the shapes forming up, in sudden stages like those time-lapse films of buds bursting into flower.
But. Whatever. I can’t seem to do that. I can’t take breaks at regular intervals just to keep a record.
Because it’s a bit like dreaming, with my eyes open. For instance, I was listening to my current Tana French novel (The Trespasser) while scratching along. The scenes from the novel play out in my head, while the pen goes on and on, with a faint scratch-scratch sound.
Between the first image (from 30 years ago) and the one below is about four hours, in fits and starts, spread across five days.
I’m at Chapter 9 in the book. I can’t decide whether or not to allow a clot of lines to straggle across the large blank area at the top and middle of the sheet.
I’ll know in another couple of days!
Maybe.
Sathya and Amy – replying to your messages together – because you both interpreted the drawing as hopeful! How interesting. I was wondering if it was because the snaky shapes are all in some way questing and curious? Not (apparently) dangerous? Plus, they’re attached to the central [plant], not roaming loose – not a threat.
Also, right at the top, there’s a small bird. Its position and pose suggest that it’s free, unafraid and capable of flying away in an instant. I am always surprised to notice the bird! I do not consciously remember drawing it. It seems to me that it expresses a quality of hope and adventure.
The drawing is still incomplete. I hope to finish it soon and will post it too!
In Christian mythology serpents have been demonized; many others celebrate them as life-giving forces. That said, I have no desire to run into the squirming mass of your Medusa crown.😂