Here I am as we approach the second anniversary of the Pandemic at least the lockdown. I thought I was feeling pretty good, but took at the furrowed brow. Also, my glasses now live almost permanently on top of my head, because with the mask they're always fogged up.
I'm having a fallow period about drawing these days, which is never fun. I did this,
taken from a fountain I saw at the Met. I re-figured it as a window from Saint Barbara's tower, imagining what she may have seen when she looked out. My grandson, Teddy, was here last week and said, "MomMom, I saw the picture you're working on and it's pretty good but you should put some people in it." Thanks, Teddy. He's eight. Here's one of his major works.
The fallow periods always come and they never last, but they're no fun, even though I know there's real work being done under the surface. One thing to do is clean the studio. In doing so I found a little book that I must have taken on a few trips and tried to record my memories. Here's what I found there.
This quote from Oscar Wilde;
"The final revelation is that lying,
the telling of beautiful untrue things,
is the proper aim of art."
And this little cow--I think she's by Durer.
And this quote from Roxana Robinson's biography of Georgia O'Keeffe, which I read in my twenties when I wanted to be Georgia O'Keeffe, before she inspired me to find my own path. Little Georgia built herself a doll house.
"The dollhouse presents a world without disorder or threat,
a world biddable, intimate beguiling…transformed by
the magic of focus, scale and intense examination."
That's what I would have said about my doll house drawings if I'd thought of it.
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