It Feels Like a Workout for Your Brain

Left-Handed Portrait I
Ink on paper
2011

This One's for Jamie

More adventures with opposite-hand drawings

A Right Hand with a Left Hand
Ink on paper
2011

Little Drawings, etc. 8 Nov 2011

From one of those miniature Molskines.  "Caches" I think?  They’re quite handy, especially in an airport.

Left-Handed Drawing

I have a feeling this will prompt further left-handed adventures.   It hearkens back to the idea of “un-learning,” something many artists may encounter when trying to relinquish control.

I highly recommend it!

Art Sesh with Brother 10.18.11

I scheduled an Art session with Brother last week.  I don’t recall that’s something I’ve ever done.  Nevertheless, it turned out to be productive and (duh) raucous.

Not that I have any particular affinity for Chuck Klosterman — never having read any of his writings (he’s a writer, right?) — I just happen to like his face.

And I have since bought some better paper.  This stuff is shit.

A Nice Meander

 

 

 Crotch shot

New Favorite Phrase: Creative Miscellany

I wish you were less blue.  But I've only

my wee camera, and it'll have to do.

Smile, Eggin, You're on the Net!

Oh, and Mom is up to more mischief.

I know, I know . . . What else is new?

Here, I Got You These Paper Binoculars

Why, yes -- I will polish off the remaining Baker Josef's Semi-Sweet Chocolate Callets (For Baking, Melting & Nibbling) because they are so perfectly un-sweet, so yummy and melty, so delectable and crispy in fine round discs.  Nevermind the fact that I've been eating chocolate like there is no tomorrow (because if there is no tomorrow, I will feel better going out knowing I spent my last moments reveling in smooth semi-sweet perfection), on top of the sneaky handfuls of free Jelly Bellies and runaway Snickers Bars left beneath my computer monitor at work. 

I think I might be broken. 

In more ways that I previously suspected.

And now I am alternating between bits of smooth chocolate and sips of hot green tea, brewed extra strong. 

It's Bliss: Version One and Bliss: Version Two in harmony. Or, duking it out. 

Either way, I've decided this is my Heaven and I'll surely be okay if today is indeed the last day of the world.

On my mind lately(besides a basket

of other things):

              Chickens

              Chocolate

              Sleep, more sleep

                                 ... 

I feel increasingly tired as the week wears on.  Last night I dreamed of robots (again), super high-tech super computers made paper-thin and attached to belted keychains, and spies trying to get away from government officials. 

Despite that, I'm sleeping well.  Just. Still. So. Tired. 

Oh, and hens are coming out of my head.  But that doesn't appear to be affecting my sleep.

 Note to self:

Sing To Me, Fleet Foxes




 The orange walls inside
First Cup Coffee on
Woodstock make my
heart sing. The most
spectacular orange,
rich and tasty, as the
backdrop for my bright
green oversized sweater,
plus a fat cup of
smooth coffee. Superb. 

And me without
a camera . . .
You'll just
have to imagine.
Because it was superb.

Attempt at skyline.

A young gentleman at

Fresh Pot last weekend. 

He stood prettily at

the counter chatting

with some folks. I like

his bag and peacoat.

                  Dear Devon,

                                                                    I effing love your eighties-tastic

                                                                   glasses. They made my day. And you are

                                                                   super hot, too.

                                                                                                          Love,

                                                                                                                 pb

Bambino in . . . 34 days? 

Oh for crap's sake.

Inside the Studio

Jane Hammond

"I think one of the things that's interesting about art is that it holds all these aspects of yourself: your intellect, your autobiography, your emotional life, your sense of humor.  It holds all these things about you, half of which you're helpless to keep out of it."

"One of the things I think is confounding and difficult for an artist, or that I've found so, is that there is a certain pressure on you -- I don't mean a commercial pressure but a sort of aesthetic pressure -- to formulate something you might call a style."

Sunny (!)

                            Stupid cold,

                                but sunny.