Me iii (not shown)

Me 1 and me 2 have been posted. There was gonna be a me 3 and 4, but the original 3 didn’t work out. I have it as a pencil, maybe I’ll ink it some day. Got so many pencils to ink — I mean pixel – as they go directly from pencil to photoshop. You knew that. Not that I miss all of the traditional methods. I did enjoy crosshatching with my old speedball C-6 but I never got the hang of painting.  Still it would be interesting to see these drawings I post printed big – hi-res on goods stock – in frames, on walls.

 

The original plan was to have 1 and 2 be of childhood and 4, this one, be of middle age with 3 being of the now and the youth, one and the same. Didn’t quite work out that way, it rarely does.

 

Do drawings live in my brain, in a little room next to the one where I spend the most time? Do they wake up when I rattle the handle – begin to make drawing-like gestures – or do I hear them rummaging around first and grab the handle to open the door? It doesn’t matter. I open the door anyway, look in and make copies of what I see to post

 

That other drawing (not shown) had an artist and a fantasy and she was helping him draw a self portrait with the fantasy. Something artists do both when young and when old; on both sides of middle age. Confused? Me too (3). You can see why it wasn’t working as a whole. I’ll prolly not bother to ink/pixel it, I’ll just scavenge parts for other drawings.

 ur-mom4a

So this one is made to stand alone.  He thought she wanted him to be a pet; there to amuse and protect her, to show her unconditional love. He was wrong, not that he could’ve  pulled it off. And the painting, a domestic fantasy, will never be finished. It was stopped by her lover’s hand.

 

Now in the yard our artist runs pet-like, where he sees, remembers in order to paint, the other wives and their lovers. He can even look up at the window we look down from and see her and her lover. She is, now, no different from the others to him. She’s just a model to him, icon, index or symbol like all the rest.

 

I wish I knew all it meant. Sometimes the drawings don’t tell me everything, just enough to get themselves posted.

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