Constraint (Soft pastel)

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Day 91.

Gregor Samsa like I click and scuttle

My north paws rubbing together in waiting

I’ll cling to the ceiling yet

That I’m certain would more normal seem than any experience I’ve had so far

hollow -hearted whole

leave well alone,

Take me I am ready.

The Rising (Soft pastel)

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Day 90.

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.

Untitled (Acrylic)

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Day 87.

Currently rereading Henry Miller’s Tropic of Capricorn. I read it once before over a year ago and see that I have underlined more passages than I have done in any school text.

The passages that struck me then as particularly resonant are today even more so. I’m grateful to have made indications to such passages as I know they are they’re readily accessible to me whenever the need for sustenance arises.

On the pursuit of gaining an understanding of himself he says

I couldn’t afford to leave things hanging in suspense that way- the mystery was too intriguing. Even if I had to rub myself like a cat against every human being I encountered, I was going to get to the bottom of it. Rub long enough and hard enough and the spark will come

The painting is a new work in acrylic.

The Crypt. (Oil pastel)

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Day 81.

Within the crypt laying undisturbed for centuries is an unknown force of immeasurable magnitude

Sealed off from the outer world to avoid contamination, it undergoes a mysterious process

no trace of it exists,  at surface level all is discreet

Unknowingly waiting in dutiful living the world churns

a hollow is hollowed from beneath

quietly imperceptibly new formations and permutations evolve, dissolve in unobserved fractal dancing

to a droning hum of distant industry accompanied

We wait.