For the last few weeks I've started trying to incorporate more drawing and creative work in my journaling. I'd like to share some of that work here, in this thread, and ask for feedback/mirrors/impressions. I really appreciated everyone's feedback and impressions in Bridge Drawing, it was helpful to have some other eyes looking at my work, and there's no one I trust to look at it in a non judgmental, open way in real life. So without further ado, here we go.
I'm going to post 4 drawings today in chronological order. The first I am calling Confused World (the title is a link to a high resolution version), it is from 12/30/2010:
I started out just doing some doodles, the green spiral, yellow halo and red beams, and the brown river thing in the upper left. Then I drew the tree, then the waves, then the blue spiral thing in the middle, and finally the red eye, the black soldier and the green shoot in the lower left hand corner. The text is:
I wrote a story/poem immediately afterwards that goes like this:
I'm going to post 4 drawings today in chronological order. The first I am calling Confused World (the title is a link to a high resolution version), it is from 12/30/2010:
I started out just doing some doodles, the green spiral, yellow halo and red beams, and the brown river thing in the upper left. Then I drew the tree, then the waves, then the blue spiral thing in the middle, and finally the red eye, the black soldier and the green shoot in the lower left hand corner. The text is:
by the tree said:Strong as the tree
Hard, tough and stiff
Shelter the seed that grows
Till your back cracks
The world cannot see me
If I am hidden from myself
My voice
is not my own
by the eye said:This eye sees not Light
This eye
Spreads Darkness
by the waves said:the waves go up and the waves crash down
I wrote a story/poem immediately afterwards that goes like this:
Fallen leaves litter the ground beneath my feet. Crunching, crackling, snapping as I walk. Golden light filters through the branches above, the dying glow of the tired autumn Sun. Branches clack above as a wind comes up. Whispering, hushing, fussing, ROARING; leaves fleeing before it, rustling and crying, jostling around my feet as I pause.
Facing the wind, I smell the cold air of winger. High above me, riding the swaying branches, a crow voices his defiance, or agreement, with the wind.