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Today, suddenly, I reached an absurd but unerring conclusion. In a moment of enlightenment, I realized that I'm nobody, absolutely nobody. When the lightning flashed, I saw that what I had thought to be a city was in fact a deserted plain and, in the same sinister light that revealed me to myself, there seemed to be no sky above it. I was robbed of any possibility of having existed before the world. If I was ever reincarnated, I must have done so without myself, without a self to reincarnate.
I am the outskirts of some non-existent town, the long-winded prologue to an unwritten book. I'm nobody, nobody. I don't know how to feel or think or love. I'm a character in a novel as yet unwritten, hovering in the air and undone before I've even existed, amongst the dreams of someone who never quite managed to breathe life into me.
I'm always thinking, always feeling, but my thoughts lack all reason, my emotions all feeling. I'm falling through a trapdoor, through infinite, infinitous space, in a directionless, empty fall. My soul is a black maelstrom, a great madness spinning about a vacuum, the swirling of a vast ocean around a hole in the void, and in the waters, more like whirlwinds than waters, float images of all I ever saw or heard in the world: houses, faces, books, boxes, snatches of music and fragments of voices, all caught up in a sinister, bottomless whirlpool.
And I, I myself, am the centre that exists only because the geometry of the abyss demands it; I am the nothing around which all this spins, I exist so that it can spin, I am a centre that exists only because every circle has one. I, I myself, am the well in which the walls have fallen away to leave only viscous slime. I am the centre of everything surrounded by the great nothing.
And it is as if hell itself were laughing within me but, instead of the human touch of diabolical laughter, there's the mad croak of the dead universe, the circling cadaver of physical space, the end of all worlds drifting blackly in the wind, misshapen, anachronistic, without the God who created it, without God himself who spins in the dark of darks, impossible, unique, everything.
If only I could think! If only I could feel!
Fernando Pessoa
Chaconne in F minor, P.43 Pachelbel, Johann
Charcoal drawing, 2021
Chalk, koh-i-noor and pencil.
Reference photo: www.flickr.com/photos/duckmarx/16365603032
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"The Perspective - Greg Metzler", graphite and ink on drawing board,
16.25" x 19.5"
This photograph is of me holding*** my recently finished drawing "The Perspective (Greg Metzler)".
Greg Metzler is a friend who is a marvelous photographer: mainly of nature, but other subjects as far a field as roller derby. He is a long time cancer survivor and a proven friend in time of need. For me the image is reminiscent of the nature/park settings of paintings by Watteau, such as one also titled The Perspective. The title of the my drawing nods to that painting by Watteau, although it goes in quite a different directions here.
*** I'm posting this image of me holding the drawing to help give a sense of it's scale.
From my current Voice & Site drawing project.
Revisiting classics, fell for the smile of Audrey Hepburn. She is much more beautiful than what I could re-create. End scene from Roman Holiday with charcoal.
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David Lynch attempted...
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"The Bell (John August Swanson)", graphite on drawing board, 12" x 7.5"
I don't know if this finished, but I like it in its current state.
I had drawn John Swanson previously, but a rather compelling photograph of him that I had taken a year or two before he died convinced me to do another drawing.
I first met John in the 1980s and at that initial meeting I recall him telling me the marvelous story of the bell maker’s son in Tarkovsky's film "Andrei Rublev". In that story people come to the bell maker's home to conscript him to make a new bell for the town. The bell maker's son informs them that his father has died, but, he says, he knows the secret of making a bell. So he goes with them and the next section of the film shows the making of this giant bell. When the bell is ultimately successfully rung the boy inexplicably leaves in despair. Andrei Rublev has been observing all this transpire and when he finds the boy (the scene of which is obliquely referenced in the artwork hanging on the wall in the back of this drawing) Rublev breaks his vow of silence and asks the boy why he is despairing. The boy confesses that there was no secret that his father had shared with him: he (the boy) had made the whole thing up. Rublev responds by inviting the boy to come with him and the boy will make bells and he (Rublev) will resume making icons.
My recollection of the story is probably not altogether accurate, but what was compelling to me (as it was to John) was the way the story affirmed this crazy leap into the make-it-up-as-you-go life of being an artist.
Check out John's art here: johnaugustswanson.com/
From my current Voice & Site drawing project.
Is it too late for me to jump into this 10 year challenge ? As they say, better late than never. Well, I did successfully 'transform' her look, but I still am not the #transformers yet ! Miles to go... Will try my luck in another 10 years... What say ?
© All rights reserved, don´t use this image without my permission. Contact me at debmalya86@gmail.com
A moment of stillness, captured in ink. This piece explores the subtle emotions that come with deep reflection and introspection. 🌑️
📅 Created: 2023
️ Medium: Ink Pen on Dark Paper
🔍 Title: "Thoughtfulness"
What does this expression evoke for you? Let me know in the comments. 👇
See Full Post: Impeccable Pen Drawing Eva Garrido
For More Information visit : Dezart Inspire | Fine Art
© All rights reserved, don´t use this image without my permission. Contact me at debmalya86@gmail.com
"The Perspective (Greg Metzler)", graphite and ink on drawing board,
16.25" x 19.5"
I'm not certain that this drawing is finished, but it is for now. Hopefully I can at some point get a good scan of it and post some details, but for now this photograph is pretty representative of the piece.
Greg Metzler is a friend who is a marvelous photographer: mainly of nature, but other subjects as far a field as roller derby. He is a long time cancer survivor and a proven friend in time of need.
For me the image is reminiscent of the nature/park settings of paintings by Watteau, such as one also titled The Perspective. The title of the my drawing nods to that painting by Watteau, although it goes in quite a different directions here.
From my current Voice & Site drawing project.
"The Cave - Jim Croegaert", 2023, graphite and ink on a 14” x 14” Schoellerhammer drawing board.
(Updated on 4.10.23 after some re-working of the drawing.)
Jim Croegaert is a Evanston-based musician / singer / song-writer who I've known since the early '90s. This drawing is based on a photo I took during a photo shoot for his latest album. This size and shape of the drawing intentionally points to a certain type of music sharing technology called an "LP".
One of the key conceptual models for this drawing project is Giovanni Bellini's "St. Francis" in the Frick. That reference is perhaps particularly fitting in relation to this drawing.
From my on-going Voice & Site drawing project.