I am endlessly fascinated by, and I endlessly draw, paint and sculpt, the procession of shadows that march across the back fence as I look to the East. Most particularly around the Sakura—Flowering Cherry Tree. In the spring changes of the buds on her branches are the very earliest sign of spring around here. Her blossoming steals the show of course; the intensity and beauty of it astonishes me year after year. Now, in the fall and winter, the presentation changes to the shadows her trunk and branches cast upon the fence. The fence becomes a giant sundial—displaying intricate abstract patterns that change moment by moment and day by day. They’ll be slanting away from southward marching sun for another week until the Solstice. Then they start marching their way back.
This brush drawing with ink is of her shadows in October. It’s been kicking around my studio since without me really realizing it. I’ve seen it and lost it a dozen time before yesterday because it’s been in a stack of drawing –not on top of the stack. “Out of sight, out of mind” has been The Rule in my universe since the moment of my injury.
But for some reason I ‘saw’ it yesterday and connections happened. Over the last 6 months, I've been recalling flashes of memories (and found many examples) of how much I loved ink and brush before. It’s finally clicked together and it's all flooding back--I'm so happy to have found it again!
Brush drawing was intuitive to me since my youth, and then probably a lot more developed from my time with the painter Lou Zhou—see him in my Portraits. Although I’m aware I’ve forgotten almost all of the specifics of our time together, the core insights he shared with me are coming back like old friends.
I am endlessly fascinated by, and I endlessly draw, paint and sculpt, the procession of shadows that march across the back fence as I look to the East. Most particularly around the Sakura—Flowering Cherry Tree. In the spring changes of the buds on her branches are the very earliest sign of spring around here. Her blossoming steals the show of course; the intensity and beauty of it astonishes me year after year. Now, in the fall and winter, the presentation changes to the shadows her trunk and branches cast upon the fence. The fence becomes a giant sundial—displaying intricate abstract patterns that change moment by moment and day by day. They’ll be slanting away from southward marching sun for another week until the Solstice. Then they start marching their way back.
This brush drawing with ink is of her shadows in October. It’s been kicking around my studio since without me really realizing it. I’ve seen it and lost it a dozen time before yesterday because it’s been in a stack of drawing –not on top of the stack. “Out of sight, out of mind” has been The Rule in my universe since the moment of my injury.
But for some reason I ‘saw’ it yesterday and connections happened. Over the last 6 months, I've been recalling flashes of memories (and found many examples) of how much I loved ink and brush before. It’s finally clicked together and it's all flooding back--I'm so happy to have found it again!
Brush drawing was intuitive to me since my youth, and then probably a lot more developed from my time with the painter Lou Zhou—see him in my Portraits. Although I’m aware I’ve forgotten almost all of the specifics of our time together, the core insights he shared with me are coming back like old friends.