What with all this holiday frivolity, and the amazingly clean and orderly house I have been luxuriating in lately, with all the pretty flowers here and there, I have been loathe to get out my messy art stuff and begin doing stuff again. This morning, I was looking at this lovely new how-to book, Expressive Figure Drawing, that my daughter and son-in-law gifted me with, and thinking, gee, it would be great to do some of that. Then I got out a portfolio of drawings and found that, once upon a time, I did! Okay, I probably would not write a book about my figure drawings. And it took most of the semester to get this one, done fairly quickly, in ink with a wash, which strangely gave me license to do just about anything I wanted because, heck, you can't erase the stuff anyway, so who cares what happens, anyway. Nevertheless, I had something going when I did this. Have given up believing it can never happen again. This, or something even more delightful, will happen, once in every twenty or so tries. Andre Gide said that to find new lands, one must lose sight of the shore for a long, long time. Setting out on that kind of voyage here in the little yellow house. One never knows what one will discover.
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