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April 2025 . . . . “Graphite Slashes”
Sitting in front of an empty white sheet of virtual paper, waiting for something to say. Something to leap up and slap my face and say howdy! A problem not a problem — I once had an art teacher who walked around with a pencil behind her ear. She would talk to the class about shape and form, energy and hue. I sat at my easel, listening but unable to put paint on my fresh clean brush. Perching behind me, she waited for something to happen. So did I. Finally, leaning over my shoulder, swinging her pencil, she slashed graphite onto the vast blank expanse of my canvas. “You see?” she said in her soft artist-teacher’s voice. “Now there’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s already spoiled!” |
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