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Exploring Fingers
Graphite on Bristol, 9x12 |
Picking up my pencils again is like returning to an old friend. Each stroke soothing and comforting. Smudging out the skin tones, and using the rolled tortillions to blend, acts like a balm to my spirit. I can remember the small cardboard box of old wooden pencils waiting for me at my Grandma'a house. Sitting at a child's desk in the kitchen by a north facing window, the space seemed set up just for me. I never failed to sift through the little box, choosing my tools carefully. Inside the desk, there was always paper and a Big Chief tablet at my disposal. It didn't matter what I drew, Grandma loved it all! I still remember the absolute joy I felt whenever I created. When I pick up a pencil now, all those memories return. Even the smell of the old paper and the wood from the pencils. This is a good place to go for a little art therapy. I can control my pencils when I cannot control the circumstances around me. Today was not so good for my dad, he has been confused the whole day. Still in the ICU, I am praying for improvement with the coming day. This makes artwork number 415 in as many days.
