More illustration stuff. He feels like someone familiar, someone who would be confident, but a little melancholy.
I think I’m enjoying drawing more now that I don’t feel I have to have a narrative – I know that is what illustration is for, but this is creation within the safe space of practice. In class, I don’t feel like I am practicing, more working, grasping vaguely towards a deadline.
Writing this post, likewise, is to allow a short break from The Millenial, which has suddenly begun to ask a lot of me. Aida is beginning, rather poorly, to come to terms with the reasons powering her unrequited love, while she is at the same time resisting any sort of emotional attachment to the still mysterious Tick. All while conducting a flighty sort of trip around the Jemez region of New Mexico with the boy.
Add to that, the darkness of Autumn is fully upon the city, and it can take a body a little while to get used to the nocturnal.
…taken just after 6pm yesterday.
Such a difference from the Fall – a different name for a different set of signifiers. No pumpkins, or hot cider, or much robust crispness to the air. But the smirr that fell today was so soft, barely wetting my eyelids and lashes, and the windows steamed up from the drying of clothes, and someone was singing across the close, a repetition in a high, pleading voice, something hymnal and haunting, and I was home, and knew no better place.