...drawing as drawing.

Since the first of this year I've been focusing on my drawing more than usual. As two months of this practice continue into the third I'm re-discovering a facet of my creative self and what's been missing. The facet is process without concern for finish. What's been missing is the intense purity of repetitive drawing. Part meditation part ceremony and full expression, drawing for me has always been a guide inward. It's an opportunity to have access to the rich hidden source within which requires such a ritual. Although I sketch daily it's a different type of drawing. It's not the drawing. Charcoal drawing is the drawing. Nothing has the feel of charcoal. It's messy. Black dust and black hands. Black sticks scratching and scrawling. It's a primal act. It's not just old school it's the oldest school. It's before schools. It's earth used as a tool to speak symbolically. I prefer drawing on a sheet of printmaker paper and I've tried everything except a cave wall. A cave would make sense but caves are hard to find. Yet I would draw on anything just to explore possibilities.
I've been drawing my pillow and
the drawing continues....