Everyday number 26. In an attempt to draw a happy person… this pensive, inward-looking, seemingly preoccupied one arrived. Hmmm. If all art, especially portraits, are self-portraits, then I say to myself that I need to get out of this labyrinth and Wake Up! I wanted to redo this, again and again if necessary, but I tend to think the honest picture is the first. So, time to get out on the bike into the spring and sweep the labyrinth away!
Everyday number 25. “When Continents Expire”, another first line from Emily Dickinson. And when they do expire? There will still, I think be roses, like the first ones that are appearing in our small garden in Madrid at the moment. Two yesterday, three today, by the end of the week there will be eighty or so, all from a rose that begins in the neighbour’s garden. One year I asked them in to our garden to look at the incredible abundance that starts on their side of the fence, but due to the orientation of our garden, produces ten times more roses than they get on their side. I thanked them profusely.
It’s the time of year when abandoned lots fill with wild flowers too, I love to see that, flowers growing out of dirt or rubble and detritus. Nature taking over. Which is why I think: When continents expire, there will still be roses…
Everydays numbers 23 and 24:
‘His Mind like Fabrics of the East’ and ‘We can but follow to the Sun’ are both first lines of poems by Emily Dickinson. Most of the picture comes first, then I find the first line from an index of her poems, and the picture changes a little to accommodate it, like the addition of the sun above. The inspiration comes from hearing Roni Horn talk about Emily Dickinson’s first lines, like each of them are poems in themselves. It’s very true. They stand alone quite amazingly.
Perhaps the drawn lines in the second picture come from years travelling to the Basque Country and seeing drawings by the wonderful Eduardo Chillida hanging in bars and restaurants.
If anyone is following these drawings every day, do let me know in the comments. I’m curious 🙂
Everyday number 22. Drawn last night. Simply bed time after a long day.
Last night at 11pm I was too tired to contemplate drawing anything, but this ‘drawing a day’ has become almost irrepressible. This took minutes, but it is still worth an awful lot to me. Even the simplest drawing has something to learn from, in this case that the most simple collection of lines, in whatever colour happened to be selected in the iPad app at the time, can be lovely, can tell a story. This is our bedroom, this is where we rest. Where we record podcasts (best acoustics in the house), where flying ants appear in a corner every summer and escape through the window. Where the floor creaks, the heat pipes click, branches scratch on the roof on windy nights.
The most important thing about this ‘everyday’ process to me is that there are no rules. The medium, the subject, the style, everything can change everyday. This bothered me recently, but now I think it’s the best thing about it. I’m doing more with the iPad and Procreate App because I want to learn how to use it as a tool, and because it’s very convenient, but I’d like to do more on paper too. Or ‘draw’ with photos, or video.
This morning, lying in the same bed, I listened to the end of the Talk Art podcast with Roni Horn. What a fascinating artist! She did a drawing a day for 400+ days for her recent project ‘Log‘, and apart from the consistent paper size, said there were no rules at all. Further inspiration to carry on… ‘Drawing is like breathing’ I believe she said…
Everyday number 21.
Today I was totally prepared to give up this ‘make art everyday’ plan, too tired, just wanted a day where I can read a book or watch TV at night instead, then we went to a bar terrace with friends, came back, energies renewed, picked up the iPad and finally made a picture, a quick drawing, that makes be happy. Maybe it was something to do with the beers on the table… or spring… or friends… or sticking at this art thing!