This is me.
I sense the beginning of a new obsession coming on with this Artist.
Ten days to go to complete my project.
Looking at this artwork that I made recently reminds of reading The Chronicles of Narnia as a young girl. The link between it and the wondrous CS Lewis books is somewhat obvious in that there is an allegorical quality to both the drawing and to those wonderful stories which I never really understood but felt captivated by none the less.
I had no interest in reading any other fantasy tales nor have I since which makes me wonder what it was about the books that enraptured me.
Whatever it was I know it still exists in me. I’d call it an attunement.
Playing with my toys. Having fun with my treasured items of diversion. It is still there the need to pull them out lay them on the ground and examine and appreciate them for all the possibilities they hold.
I like sitting on the floor like a child. I prefer the floor to chairs and couches most times. Something about being closer to the earth, to the source. It is the same instinct that has me inclined to be barefoot most of the time. A more natural state. I like the the oriental style of dining on cushions with low tables.
I enjoy making a mess and assembling curious objects together for fun and inspiration. My lounge is my play room. It has got order. The toys are mostly hidden but I know they’re there and within an arms dump of being spread out across the rug.
These sketches were inspired by my Woody Allen Box set. A well loved toy that I turn to time and again.
This is another of my work drawings. Over the years I have made several which I stored away as carefully as my more complete art works. To me they are evidence of a parallel me and also stand as stepping stones to the person I was becoming.
The nascent artist in me nudging away throwing out these fragmentary images. It provides a clue to to all the years of restless dissatisfaction that belonging to a desk invoked. Sending coded subconscious messages to myself.
It was a rebellion of sorts too. Acting out with line and colour if only to myself.
A sneering quest for meaning. I can see a spiky display of humour in their brevity.
Frivolous but important scraps documenting that life for me lay elsewhere.
A spontaneous drawing part playful doodle, part existential cris de couer. Falling is a deeply psychological fear I have. Palpable before conscious awareness. It comes from some primal place.
When thinking of falling I sense my brain is housed beneath my chest. That is where the knowledge and the reactions happen.
I see curtains blowing in a window many floors up in a high rise apartment building and I become transfixed by the almost hypnotic sensation of paralysing dread that it evokes in me.
In this fear of mine I see how closely tied the psychological is with the physical. The mind can perceive and analyse the connection but it is somehow apart from the phenomenon.