Tonight, I looked into a child's eyes, and I said, "Wow." A mother's gaze, just last week, moved to one of my drawings (of her daughter), and she said, quietly, "Wow." On a recent evening, upon my sailboat, there was a lightning strike in the ocean's distance, and then a hush, and then a crash, and within this night's darkness and storm, an opening in the rolling clouds, and a star, bright and far, and this star was, this short moment, directly BESIDE the terrestrial bolt of lightning, and, I could swear, my own beating heart whispered the same, a hackneyed "Wow" of astonishment.
Our sense of wonder wanes at times. A million little debts fill our years, and they take our souls. I fight the decay of our natural greatness. I fight the plunge into bill-paying and cynicism and heartless practicality. Let us gather our strength for the beautiful and the useless, for the elements of the heavens rather than the elements of mere function. Otherwise, we are animals, gathering meals, pawing at the earth, grotesque in our efficiency, grotesque in our pride of annual savings. We can take little to our afterlife, whatever that may be. We can take nothing, I'm guessing, but memory, the memory of children and mothers and our struggle and our conscience. And it is in these little moments, at play and at work, perhaps in our artwork, even in cartooning, that we find our worth, our souls, little moments... That's all we have.
Perish one day by your own clock. Allow me to take these million moments, and pay my bills, and pay my debt to the myriad folk who pass into my life, making it worthwhile, and not mere duty.
The debt collector most ominous is my own heart, and its bills are not negotiable.
You must live with yourself. Good luck.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Hmm, this is interesting. It's exactly the opposite from live cartoon illustration, and that's satisfying. There's some mathematics involved, and an engineers scale, and the use of a technical pen, and I think I might love this. We'll see. Apparently there's a ready market for portraits of homes. I'm very curious. ... This quick photo is of a ruined work. It got wet and smeared on my boat during a surprise rainstorm. But it's my first "home portrait," and everyone says it looks great. Hmm... Part of me thinks it looks as good as anything I see on the Internet, but, then again, I made a lot of mistakes. ... This could be an excellent addition to my freelance career. I REALLY like my Rapidograph technical pen. (This was my first time using one.)... This work took about 15 hours, but a lot of that can be attributed to the simple fact that I was learning to use the scale, and the pen, and the architectural techniques, et cetera. More to come!...?
Some of you know this, and others do not, but I have a new "home." Well, okay, I technically still live in my same old apartment, but my new home is now completely purchased, and I have a clear title from the state of Florida, and one day I'll move onto it. Her name is Wind Song, and we are developing a special relationship. She's an old Islander 24, with full keel, and these things have sailed around the world. It's that kind of boat. And my other sailboat? Well, I only had a down-payment on it, actually, and it's not really an "ocean-going" boat, so I'm getting rid of it. (It's a Starwind 22.) ... Anyway, Wind Song is tied to a dock in Apollo Beach (Tampa Bay), and I'm spending all my time and all my money on her. She's been neglected, but she's still beautiful. I'll update her refit often.