Inferno
Six breaths a minute — I’m an old locomotive in a cold dark wood — I see covered faces — snow on blood ~ [ 2066 ]
Tag Archive for ‘Faces’
Shared Faces
I love what I call shared faces — faces that blend and overlap in mutual understanding, compassion, and sympathy. I have drawn many such, without knowing how the first of them came about; it was, most definitely, not a matter of deliberation or intent. In other words, it just happened. And just as they exist in me, in the so-called “imaginary world,” they exist around me, in the so-called “real […]
Essential Anonymity
The face you see in your mirror is another miracle. It is a reflection of a reflection — of your life and times and the place you live, and wherever else you roam. It is a reflection of what you think, of what you believe about yourself and about others, and of what it means to you to be alive. A face is a story, told without words. It is […]
Awakening
And Man probably reveals more about me than it does the human condition, though I can’t separate myself from that condition, and wouldn’t care to if I could. I don’t want to see myself as something apart from everyone and everything else. If I’m lucky, I’ll rise as far as the condition allows, while it’s clear by this drawing I have already fathomed its depths. There’s a key element here: […]
In an Unknown Hand
The face on the right might be appropriate for a volume about ancient Rome; the one on the left looks almost as old, as if a monk long ago had seen it in a dream — or maybe the dreamer was drawn by another monk while he was asleep. Or maybe both were asleep. Either way, however it happened, I myself awoke from a dream this morning in which I […]
Easy
Drinking from the birdbath, washing face and hands, a pretty little wasp teaches me. . [ 1798 ]
Face Out of Time
A clock without numbers. A clock without hands. A face out of time. . [ 1621 ]
On the Far Road
Hands wrapp’d ’round a warm cup — faceless night, nameless fire. . [ 1533 ]
A Few Clay Pots
Let’s leave behind a few clay pots and a worn out pair of sandals. As for dreams and thoughts, let’s keep them guessing. They will be anyway: Religion, music, poetry, science — cathedrals, symphonies, books — Fragments that represent, but never quite make, the whole. Our little daughter said it best with the very first word she spoke: Light. She was nine months old. And when she was seven, She […]
William Michaelian 