I am supposed to join the world of the waking in less than four hours now, and I have yet to sleep a wink. I am tired, but I am wired now. And oddly confused about what's laying on my bed right now. (I'll leave you to ponder that for now)
As an artist, I'm used to the urge to create. Usually, it's the urge to throw (pottery), sometimes though to paint or photograph or draw. It's almost a burning desire to make something new, to be creative in all its meanings. I am very familiar with this, especially over the last few days. About an hour and a quarter before starting this post, I felt something similar, but different. I HAD to draw, but it was not this familiar desire to create, this normal urge for the artist, at least this artist. It was more of a need to illustrate, to release something already formed. To bring into the world something it already has, but in a new place, a new time.
Most of you who read this blog have seen my artwork. Ok, both of you who frequent this that I am aware of, and you've both been getting emails. Others of you have seen a few examples of my artwork, although only one of my drawings. My photographs follow the same trend of abstractness as the rest of my work, so you can draw similarities. One thing that I will do in photographs but NEVER attempt without a reason in drawing or painting is realism. I simply have no knack for it, especially with paint.
This drawing on my bed, drawn and left in such a way it seems to be looking over at me while I type this, is a (for me) rather realistic drawing of a (seemingly) young man, oddly similar to yours truly, but vitally different in subtle ways. Longer hair, different tattoos, similar but slightly different build. A comfortable body language in a pose I attempted and feel ill at ease at. I drew this picture, finding these details I have never seen before, specifically looking for them and mapping them out. And I know it is still flawed, but in ways I cannot fix, but can live with. The shoulders, for one, are not quite wide enough, but close. Tattoo details are not there, nor precise placement, but the general gesture of them is. Location of body hair is sketched out. The hips are wrong, but not badly, and his neck is a bit long. I know his eyes are brown, as is his hair, although rather different shades. I do not know why I know these things. I do not know why I chose any of the things I did or assume I did for this drawing. I have no idea why I had the urge to draw this guy, whoever he may be. I know it is not someone I know or have known.
So while I'm supposed to wake up in, now, three and a half hours, I do not think I will fall asleep yet. Maybe I'm just tired and this is getting to me for some reason. Maybe I should just sleep. But I can't stop staring at this thing. I feel oddly comfortable despite being so confused. It is a strange sensation. It is, however, almost a comfort that he looks just about as confused as I am.
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