Mish mash

Drawing 946

D

Drawing 947

Drawing 948

Drawing 949

  Drawing 950

Incubating

Drawing 941

 Drawing 942

Drawing 943

  Drawing 944

 Drawing 945

Where do phobias begin? In the murky swamp of our lizard hind brains? My lizard hind brain is cooking up a phobia about the stairs in the building where I'm working, on the 18th floor. I've never been fond of heights, but it's not so much an actual fear of heights or falling. More a fear of the landing and then the being dead. Though when faced with a sheer drop into a canyon or off a bridge, I do experience a dark and all but irresistible desire to simply step off the edge. What's with that? But I digress. 

No problems going down the stairs to the next floor. My difficulty arises (hah!) whilst going up. The risers aren't solid, there's a gap underneath that lets daylight through (and isn't visible while descending), and a little voice in my head starts to whisper about the eighteen floor chasm peeking through that gap. I grip the handrail like grim death (though why I think that would help in the event of a sudden stair failure beats me) and my legs turn to lead. Looking straight ahead doesn't help, because there's a large expanse of floor to ceiling glass on the landing at the head of the stairwell that looks like open air to my terror addled hind brain. It interprets that as going from frying pan to fire, and it wants no part of any such shenanigans. To avoid the stairs, I began to take the lift the single floor I'm usually traveling but no, my lizard ancestor doesn't like that either.

I've started to eye the crack between the lift floor and the building floor with equal horror. Where will it end?

Random

Drawing 936

Drawing 937

  Drawing 938

Drawing 939

  Drawing 940

So here I am again, playing catchup. Work pressures, health pressures, lack of time pressures, blah, blah, blah! Who wants to hear it? I'll just go on coming back, trying to catch up with myself...

There are some random thoughts about my drawing-a-day process in my head just dying to be poured into a post:

1. Why do I keep drawing-a-day going, even on days when there's no time/energy/inspiration? Because a day without it doesn't seem right, there's something missing (duh!), I do want to keep drawing daily even when there are pressures conspiring against it, it's good for my drawing ability/discipline, it keeps me watching and interested in shape/form/texture...
2. Limiting my material and colour choices was a good idea. It promotes inventiveness and, sometimes, procrastination: if I don't have to choose which colours or which paper, I just get on with it instead of being overwhelmed by choice. 
3. Drawing is like an ouroboros: it feeds on itself. Drawing engenders more ideas, more luscious shapes and shading and textures, more drawing, more painting, more sculpture. More writing. More of everything.
4. There are (generally) so many ideas in my head that it makes the poor thing ache. Pouring them out upon a page, even in serial form, provides relief.
5. Drawing is pure pleasure. The lovely swoop of a curve, the shine of metallic pens, the sexy silken feel of flowing ink, the friction of graphite against paper. Even the little dusty leavings of the eraser being blown off a page. Just made of Happy.
6. My current materials: a Mills & Boon paperback novel from the 70s/80s provides the paper; a 2B pencil; an eraser; black fineliners, a dozen in a box from Office Works; a red Sharpie; two shades of grey, Zig fine and chisel pigment ink pens, one Steel Gray, one platinum; occasionally a ruler and a compass.
7. Ideas. Hmm, more complicated. Sometimes I'll have a shape in my head, from a book/tv/newspaper/film etc. Sometimes I just begin and see where it takes me. Sometimes I wake with an image in my mind, not always from a dream, though that happens, too. Going to an exhibition or watching a tv program on other artists will create ideas. Thumbing through my "visual diaries" inspires ideas; I used to keep a "proper" visual diary, now it's a box into which I throw newspaper cuttings, bits and pieces of stuff, the little sketchbooks I keep with me at all times which are more writing of ideas in words and thumbnails than sketching, anything which is grist for the art mill.
8. Often I work in series, getting a particular shape or line stuck in my head for days or weeks. Usually it unsticks itself spontaneously, sometimes I get so sick of it I boot it in the arse to get rid of it, sometimes I'm forced to find another addiction to replace the problematic one. Is that the lesser of two evils, or simply evil upon evil?
   
   
   

Ovoids

Drawing 931

Drawing 932

Drawing 933

  Drawing 934

 Drawing 935

Sometimes a shape gets under my skin and I draw it again and again, compulsively. Obsessively. These ovoids with crosshatching are currently in residence, and I can't stop drawing them. I try, I draw something else, and the next day, there they are: back again. Sometimes they change form a little, but essentially the crosshatched ovoid reigns supreme. For now.

Other than the ovoids, I'm wrestling with altering a pair of cotton pants, part of a tunic/pants set from Africa (meant to be worn by men, but also worn by me). I've been wearing the tunic for a couple of years but the

pants languished in the alteration pile, too long in the body and legs. I removed the drawstring - I like a gathered waist, it's very comfortable, but prefer elastic - then  chopped a couple of inches off the waist, and pinned a new channel for the elastic. Then I started my temporary job and the pants sat there, no longer in the alteration pile but not going anywhere. Today I picked them up again and sewed the new waist, put the elastic in and (too late) tried them on. I thought I'd measured and tried on before reaching the pinning stage when last I worked on them, but evidently not. They're now too short in the body. Pooh! So I am frogging the waist, cursing dark purple thread on this dull grey day. But at least it's progress, of a sort :)

One day I shall triumph over the unfinished projects heap.

Tempus fugit

Drawing 926

 Drawing 927

 Drawing 928

 Drawing 929

Drawing 930

This working lark really puts a crimp in one's free time! Not complaining, though, I am enjoying my temp job enormously. Having a cold, courtesy of public transport I suspect, is also contributing to my woolly brain

syndrome. I did get a free trip to and from work one Friday: there was major railway debacle here in Melbourne and, as a sop to the masses, everyone got a day's free transport. Woohoo.

  

Finally caught up, and a new (temp) job

Drawing 921

 Drawing 922

Drawing 923

Drawing 924

  Drawing 925

I've finally managed to bring posting my drawings-ad-day up to date - there are two from the last couple of days, but I'll wait till I have five before putting those up. Phew!

Meanwhile, upstream, Jim and the giant anaconda...I have a temporary job. I'm working three days a week,

flexing my library technician muscles once more. I was a leeeetle anxious said muscles might have atrophied after three and half years of disuse, but they seem to be bouncing back. I am sadly out of practice at getting up early, though...crawling out of bed before the sun is not my favourite thing. On the other hand, train travel provides plenty of time for reading, and people watching. The things people do in public!

Driven to abstraction

Drawing 916

 Drawing 917

 Drawing 918

 Drawing 919

 Drawing 920

Almost there...

Drawing 911

 Drawing 912

Drawing 913

Drawing 914

   Drawing 915

Skellingtons

Drawing 906

 Drawing 907

Drawing 908

  Drawing 909

Drawing 910

 

Closer and closer

Drawing 901

Drawing 902

  Drawing 903

 Drawing 904

 Drawing 905