Painters just need to paint.
Kathleen Kenyon (1906-1978) sketched from a photo taken in 1952 at the site of a dig that became known as the Jericho Tomb. She was an archaeologist and an anthropologist, bible scholar and later director of the British Museum. I sketched her from a tiny photo next to the skeleton she dug up, when at the museum last year, as her face seemed to jump out at me.
After I had snoozed myself in much the same posture as the man in the picture (as one does on long train journeys) I sketched the man across the aisle from me. Most of the carriage was sleeping, like a fog descended on us all. But when I finished and looked at the pad it did remind me of someone else, a someone who was already on my mind. Kind of comforting, a subconscious manifestation of someone I miss, who was not there (not physically anyway). Maybe that is just me being weird?
"In the beginning there was a river. The river became a road and the road branched out to the whole world. And because the road was once a river it was always hungry."
shut the front door