Wednesday, January 18

An image out of my sketchbook. My hand is flowing free right now. It sometimes is very tight and constained, but now it flows. I'm attracted to lines right now. Where it goes no one knows...

where my life is at right now. sloppy. harsh. ungeared. spinning. I find this type of art very therapeutic. It flows without hesitation or regard for correctness and brilliance. It has no expectations or purpose other than to release from me and run around the page. It feels good. as if a little demon has run from my fingertip onto the page and away.

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