Thursday, February 26, 2015

Monday, February 23, 2015

Monday, February 16, 2015

Friday, February 13, 2015

Thursday, February 12, 2015

Tuesday, February 10, 2015

Day 41 #MakeArt365

My Answer to the Years, pencil, 2015
Moth week continues. I conflate a strong memory from my teens of a wasp crawling from my glasses onto my eyeball and that Over the Rhine song that is still stuck in my head from Friday.

Monday, February 9, 2015

Day 40 #MakeArt365

Day 40 #MakeArt365
I Dance with Moths in the Void, pencil, 2015

Me dancing, more fantastic than anyone with trees growing out of their head

Sunday, February 8, 2015

Saturday, February 7, 2015

Day 36 #MakeArt365

Apparently I completely forgot to post this here after putting it on facebook...

Briefly Describe What Happens in Each of These Phases., mixed media, 2015
He's in one of my favorite old paintings but It's at least a decade since I've drawn the tin woodsman. I have to say its kind of weird how I sit down each night lately with no idea what I'm going to do and something pops right out.

Day 38 #MakeArt365

Projection into Row Space, ink, 2015

Day 37 #MakeArt365

Posted late

We all knew this would eventually degenerate into me doodling on my arm with a sharpie like I'm in high school, didn't we?

Burning Moth, sharpie on idiot, 2015

Wednesday, February 4, 2015

Day 35 #MakeArt365

Ogier Looks a Last Time on Paris Before Returning to Avalon, pencil, 2015
 Finished reading (painfully on my phone) book two of the Earthly Paradise on the bus today.

"And then the place was void, and they were gone
How I know not; but this I know indeed,
That in whatso great trouble or sore need
The land of France since that fair day has been,
No more the sword of Ogier has she seen."
-William Morris, The Earthly Paradise

Tuesday, February 3, 2015

Day 34 #MakeArt365

Positive Semidefinite, mixed media, 2015

I had a weird dream last night (about rummaging through abandoned weaponry in a wrecked convenience store in the desert that had been a battleground and seemed likely to be one again) but was unsuccessful in drawing it. Then read this poem in the comments on Terri Windling's blog and it hit me between the eye's. I have to say it in no way resembles my father, who (possibly for the worse) wink emoticon has never told a lie in his life, and would likely be quite at home in Oz. I think there's something there though about the inherent tension in art between innocent fantasy and destructive self deception. Chewing on that.
If there is a place south of Oz,
my compass will find it.
If it is the true north,
that lies past Shangri-La,
I have sought that way
since childhood, fairytale needle
always spinning toward strangeness.
My father, whose life was built
on careful lies, always wondered
at the cardinal points of my longing,
declaring them unreal, as if his make-believe
was more natural than my compass rose.
I am aligned to the magnetic field
of the human heart and his was always a gyro,
spinning rapidly to keep up with a world
rotating solely on solipsistic lies.
There was never adventure for him,
no Shangri-La, no Oz, only a cold trail,
trackless plain, and a meal of salty regret.
South of Oz, -Jane Yolen

Sunday, February 1, 2015

Day 32 #MakeArt365

Nothing Gold, acrylic on canvas, 2015

The fish, again. This one's actually been brewing for a while (though hardly an ambitious canvas). It is however the first official painting of 2015