...as drawn during a meeting that dragged into the endless; it had some fussbudget in it that went on over some trifle in the way that fussbudgets always do. So the figure had to squirm like the meeting did, perhaps dancing in some impossible way...
I'm still in love with my 100% recycled paper -- perhaps I told you before that it stood there alone on the shelf, feeling rejected. I felt a little lonely on my shelf too, and instant bonding occurred. I suppose that one could and perhaps should use fine materials on it, oil pastels and gouache and the best ink... but now I tend to go for ballpoint pens -- cheap and underrated as they are. They arrived too late to have a place in the traditional art world.
In the modern art world, Art can be Anything and be created with Anything, even ballpoint pens, which is compensated by not letting it be created by Anyone. So we select a select few and call them Artists, and then we decide that what they do is Art. Basta. -- We may always debate what Art is. And the debate will invariably be led by the same circles (also very select) that selected the Artists that are Artists so that the discussion isn't led by just Anyone, q.v. And this gives me a sort of squirmy feeling too, but I digress.
Anyhow, I am stimulated by the fact that the "paper with nine lives" (or so the manufacturers call it) seems to have many stories behind the present pages. It has seen life! -- in the form of chocking newspaper headlines, it has been love letters and death notices, it has carried bored doodles and revelations... I hope that their unknown pages of the past somehow, through some impossible dance, shall echo in what I happen to draw, a song for all the Others.
A closer look. I change the colours a little. See if feelings get warmer too.
Now, if I am drawn to slightly off and rejected materials... I think that I saw an old box of children's crayons the other day in my Muddle, Sweet Muddle; and some very dry felt pens. Hmmm. I really should finish that video first but... Hmmmm again?
Ps. If you're curious, my particular block of reincarnated paper was born again in Latvia, found through this link.