I think what lures me to use ink is the fact that it flows so naturally for me. Similarly to when I start writing on paper. They way it interacts with the materials is so stunning; creations become natural and unplanned. Mistakes can become tiny masterpieces and some mistakes can be hair pulling death sentences. It took me so long to become comfortable with drawing. I couldn’t find my voice. So when I first began using ink, it was like finding the right note to a song.
your hair reminds me of mangled branches in the sullen sky
how many hours you spent sitting down,
playing each key,
finding a rhythm,
dancing to the beat.
Then some keys fell off.
how many days you spent trying to ignore it,
playing without it,
finding a way to skim over,
dancing your fingers around it,
Then some keys stopped ringing.
how many weeks you spent imagining,
playing the note in your head,
finding the faint memory of the notes,
dancing to the made up rhythm.
Then you just gave up.
how many months you kept it there,
playing with the idea of
finding a spot in the garage,
dancing from yes and no.
Then you threw it away.
But you’ve had so many memories with it.
Oh tiny silhouette,
how delicate you must be.
Moving, shifting, crawling,
between the chain-link fence
Doing acrobatics from link to link
Tending to your home,
Simply in a second
your lungs are filled with toxin
up and up and away your legs go
bending, curling, breaking,
Contortionist in your own home.
Oh tiny silhouette
how delicate and dead you must be.
There is something about light casting through a wall or space that catches my attention.
The light that seeps through crevices and holes and cast shapes onto figures create beautiful shapes. They are naturally occurring neon lights.
neon lights, flashing, dancing, reflecting.