Time is but the clockwork of a frightened heart

Time is but the clockwork of a frightened heart

Drawing on acrylic glass panes. It’s been about 6 months that these black and white, sometimes gold drawings keep evolving, taking up a lot of my time recently. Sometimes I almost despair of them because I don’t know where they are going, I don’t understand them the way I would like to and quite honestly they feel like a well disguised vice. Then again I feel they are too beautiful, too blank to be allowed to take up so much of my time. They started, simple enough, as a way to find back from painting to drawing for an illustration project. At first it was plain black marker on white paper. I had chosen marker because it allowed me not to think “small”, not to think “precious”, and as usual I was drawn to the ready availability and comparative cheapness of the technique which seems like a quality in itself to me. Now I am still using marker, but the creatures have freed themselves from paper, have migrated to glass panes, they cast shadows on walls and mirrors, they congregate to create 3 dimensional theatrical settings, and I still don’t know where this may lead me and why I still draw these night after night (instead of now taking up ink and the fine pens and engage in the illustration projects I had been meaning to prepare for). The saying “Life is what happens when you are busy making other plans” seem to perfectly apply here. Some small insignificant but very persistent kind of original thought seems to defend its way against my larger ideas. Art is what happens when you are busy making other plans …

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