(no subject)
I find many things pleasing today. The curve of charcoal on white paper... the soft blurry shadow of car fur... the dark electric blue of twilight... the slide and of fabric against my skin.
It is one of those days when aesthetics is not confined to art and thoughts imbue everything with the soft but revealing glow of a display light.
So I do what I always do when such moods assail me - I draw. Pouting lips, strands of hair caressed by an imaginary breeze, the wrinkle of jeans on slender thighs. I draw a sexless creature, beautiful and sad... half finished, possessing nothing but what power charcoal may give. And then it is over. There is a liquid imperative to sleep - dark and murmuring. I look over this strange caricature with lingering regret. Tomorrow will not be the same as today.
It is one of those days when aesthetics is not confined to art and thoughts imbue everything with the soft but revealing glow of a display light.
So I do what I always do when such moods assail me - I draw. Pouting lips, strands of hair caressed by an imaginary breeze, the wrinkle of jeans on slender thighs. I draw a sexless creature, beautiful and sad... half finished, possessing nothing but what power charcoal may give. And then it is over. There is a liquid imperative to sleep - dark and murmuring. I look over this strange caricature with lingering regret. Tomorrow will not be the same as today.