Here, below the falls, on the surface of the clear quiet pools, A ballet unfolds: scooters, skaters, skippers, striders, skimmers, Skeeters, Jesus bugs, making light of your reflection. Someday you may be crucified, for all they know. After all, men still do such things. Women, too. Or, you may simply sink, like a stone. Into the primitive. The wise. The beautiful. Alone. August 7, 2021 . [ 1191 ]
Tag Archive for ‘Primitive’
. . . What shall I say? Do our inner thoughts ever show outwardly? There may be a great fire in our soul, yet no one ever comes to warm himself at it, and the passers-by see only a wisp of smoke coming through the chimney, and go along their way . . . Primitive, Pencil on Index Card, 2009 Even at this distance / how we are alone / […]
A Passing Disturbance
February 15, 2010
#2 Pencil on 4 x 6 Index Card
Size 58 Luxus hat purchased for 8 rubles
in Echmiadzin, Armenia, 1982
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For the first time in ages, I wound my father’s wristwatch, which I keep on my work table next to his brother’s old briar pipe. The trusty Hamilton started ticking immediately. The tiny secondhand, set in a circle built into the face where the 6 should be, started making its way around. Now, several hours later, I see the watch is still running — as am I, apparently, though I […]
From Primitive: Selected Drawings in Pixel, Pencil & Pen
I look more like this drawing now than I did then.
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This is another of my favorites from Primitive, although it would be hard to explain why.
Is it, perhaps, because the shoulder of one is the mouth of the other? Possibly.
But then there are the eyes, which, for half a day yesterday,
Followed me around the room. “My card, sir.”
#2 Pencil on Index Card
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Another of my favorites from Primitive.
Since then, I’ve returned to the theme of shared faces time and time again.
And I have been taught, delivered, saved, made by them.
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Back in 2009, looking for something in one of our closets, I found an unopened pack of index cards and some No. 2 pencils. Among others of their kind, these drawings eventually found their way into Primitive, copies of which are tucked away in the very same closet. [ 50 ]