Dreaming and Drawing

I have been absent from this blog for quite some time. Distractions and physical depletion have made writing too challenging to face. Focus for any length of time reminds me of my weariness and finding words has felt too much like work. I want rest between family crisises and my own small medical emergencies. I want sleep and I don’t want to bother with interpreting my dreams. On the other hand, I find that I can draw for brief periods. I can focus on the line, follow the smooth and trembling progress of the ink-dipped brush and summon interest in the dream emerging onto the paper. I look and think to myself “Hmmm… That is what is happening beneath the surface of my exhausted outer person.”

I am fragile and in need of rest. Yes, that is obvious in the occasionally faltering line. But there is wisdom and a dormant yet definite strength, if I will acknowledge it. If I will claim the rest that I need from The familiar and compelling problems of those I love.

I began to draw again when my Jackson Gallery requested that I do some women and cats. I had been focusing on the vignettes about my mother, but I was ready to take a break from the demands of making words. With drawing the message is more subtle. One can see it or not. The cat can be simply a cat. The woman a figure study; nothing more. I may be the only one who sees that the artist is weary or reluctant, sad or harboring hope for renewal. But, perhaps, that is enough.

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