Hand

I'm trying to imagine what it would be like to just be a hand with no body attached. Just a hand holding a pencil.

Faster = More Betterer

The model from the class was proper good, a performance artist and all round activated young thing who was brilliant. Quick sketches, less that 30 seconds seem to yield way more expression than the longer poses. Hmmmmm.

Badger

The badgers that we - as humans, observe above ground are actually not badgers at all but rather mirages of a highly compact badger that the badger has purposefully created by condensing their overal length and in addition puffing up their fur, such that they appear much larger and thus more ferocious in order to intimidate badger predators such as squirrels and/or farmers. It is uncommonly known – to us humans, that badgers - once underground, extend to their full length of 13 meters, though this can only occur as they dig tunnels sufficiently long enough to absorb their tremendous length. Think accordian. Think black and white accordian. Think badger accordian. Think badger.
No matter where you stand in Hong Kong, there will always be a 13 meter long badger within 10 ft of you

Don't be nasty, have a pasty

Today I find myself close to the London riots, Hackney, with my trusty charcoal distraction (much like ninja smoke thingies) to get me stealthily through the chaos....

I did...

...go to school on Monday and it was drawing and then I went home and then I woke up and went to school again and I did draw people standing very still. And my eyes looking. I had a burnt wood and a brush and a paint. And then the lady put her clothes on the floor and then she did have naked. And did again. We had lunch. Then I did more.

Blank

Blank mind.
Hungry pencil.

Pencil Case

Hello.
Well.
My bold mission statement to produce and upload a sketch a day has clearly fallen short of its target. 74 days have passed and only 5 sketches have been posted. I have let myself down, but to a greater significance, the hopeful expectations of my relatives, friends and the 9 faithful 'followers' have also been dashed against the corduroy exterior of my firmly zipped pencil case. I can only offer the much worn excuse of being overloaded with work.
It has also occurred to me, since my initial unbounded enthusiasm to share with the world, the utter pointlessness of doing so - unless there is a point. And I do sense that there is a point however it evades me like a Ferrero Rocher.
The good news is that obligations to worky stuff are somewhat diminished and thus the opportunity to revive slumbering graphite is upon me. No more excuses. Not even work. Work should be secondary to the fire within. So without further a do I'm gonna light up my little stack of inner twigs and get this show back on the road. Maybe the point of all this will become clear if I just use my pointy pencil to pointy-sketchy.

Separate note:
Art? Hoo Haa.
I'm not even going to go there, but having been consumed these past few months with interesting and challenging client-based projects, the simple feeling of holding a pencil in my hand once again in order to portray the naked figure poised before me evokes a sense of 'art' - as in - I'm doing art. No more, no less. Simple. There is no point... other than stumbling over mysteries of the universe hidden within my stem of brittle graphite.

Onward.