Just a little sketch. 10 min. I grabbed a stick of charcoal and a piece of cartridge paper and lost myself in gesture and feathers and value and shape and thought about how the ospreys at the end of our road screech and circle overhead until all threats seem subdued and distant. I admire that.
Charcoal is messy and dark but never dark enough for me it seems. That’s why I do this. Set myself up for rejection at shows, online and with others. It gives me such joy to reconnect with the magic of hand and eye and life. This sketch is ephemeral-it will smear and disappear and I’ll get to draw another one. It’s what keeps me free–this gift of drawing–and untouched by the whirling dirvishes–missing it all–so sad.
Ospreys are like ravens and crows. Unpopular with the ‘dime a dozen, draw me something pretty that matches my decor’ bird lover. Rather, they are fiercely admired by those who appreciate the smart and independant spirit with wings. I like people who like ravens and crows and ospreys and their ilk. Think I’ll paint some more of these and keep them till the kindred spirits come to find them.