If anything I do gets bound up with who I am, it is the act of drawing.
I learned to paint. I have studied color theory, composition, the elements and principles of design, and so on. I did not emerge from the womb equipped with two-point perspective. I did not always understand the mechanics of creating a sense of space and volume within the confines of a two-dimensional surface. But I can’t remember a time when I did not draw. For the magic of a line coming unspooled from a core of graphite or spilling from the barrel of a pen I required no schooling, no teacher, only a steady supply of paper.
Drawings are, like the squiggle of an EKG, a record of my existence. I don’t need them, so long as I’m capable of making them. I produce them the way a tree in season produces leaves. I scatter them, again like a tree, but in a different season.
Michelle and I have upsized; we’ve squeezed our belongings into the space of a thirty-seven foot class A motor home and hit the road, whenever to return. My painting studio fits inside a laptop computer as big as a continent. I still draw, by hand, on paper, with graphite and with ink. Once I’ve made a drawing–sometimes complicated, sometimes just a line or two, as elegant as a doodle, as obsessive and as sophisticated as the pulse at my wrist–I let it go. I leave it behind.
No, wait. That’s not quite right. First I scan it, then I abandon it. Like a child swaddled in a book, an envelope, a ziplock bag with a note pinned to it pleading with its finder to become its keeper, to give it a home somewhere, in a drawer if not on a wall, in an album or a scrapbook or a shoe box.
If you find one of my drawings somewhere, I hope you’ll let me know. I drop obvious clues to where I’ve left them on a blog called Abandonment Issues. Take a look at the map there. Maybe I’ve abandoned a drawing at a coffee shop, a park, or a library near you.
The prints I offer for sale are derived, one way or another, from these abandoned drawings. I share half of what I make (after printing and shipping costs) with the finder-keeper of the drawing that led to the digital painting, provided they let me know where to send the money.
I think of it as child support.
Some of the drawings I donate. These tend to be series-related: the Intentional Women, the Berkshire Fae, the “Cosmopoly” drawings. If it interests you, you can read about the causes that support me and that I support in return on my Loose Associations page.
Hill Song, rescued by Joe K.
Moonscreen, rescued by Grace.
Veiled Not Veiled, rescued by Quincy.
The Eel Swims Free, rescued by Anna.
Woman with a Lute, rescued by Rod.
Millenial Beard, rescued by Joe J.
Flit, rescued by Kelly.
Young Mind, rescued by Velma.