I thought that as I got older and more mature I would react with more grace and understanding when my beloved crossed that oh-so-fine line between funny and desperately wounding. But no, it seems I have if anything regressed and now say, or at least depict on paper, what i really feel.
this makes quite a nice little kiss and make up card, not sure if i will give it to him or not.
to start with, here is a drawing from what is intended to be an artist book. i have never wanted to exhibit my sketchbooks, of which i have many, as they are either too personal or too eclectic to satisfy me as an art artifact. However I have been interested for a while in the possibility of purpose made books of drawings, like a mini exhibition between covers. a little bunch of meanderings tied together with string. i like the idea of each collection or book addressing some idea or condition; so far my drawings have been fairly resistant to addressing any sort of common ideas or conditions, but i live in hope. the alternative is a collection of one-page books, which could in theory be deeply conceptual, but would more likely reveal itself as deeply tragic. sometimes the two are hard to tell apart at first glance.