lines
monee
sharp
sharp
lines
cutting
like
ice
skates
dancing
like
northern
lights
as
i
squint
and
blink
and
blink
041217
...
tender_square
i
clutched
the
tangerine-coloured
pencil
in
my
hand
and
circled
madly
like
a
toddler, generating
shapes
.
i
was
measuring
and
gaining
perspective
to
better
sketch
the
figure
before
me
,
a
woman
marked
by
the
scars
of
life
-giving.
as
i
committed
to
tawny
and
taffy lines,
her
body
shrank upon
the
page
,
a
floating
island
in
a
sea
of
white
space
.
there
was
no
room
for
light
in
her
limbs.
the
layered lines
became
kinetic
as
she
stood
motionless.
my
rusty techniques
are
a
metaphor
for
how
i
live
: striving
for
the
perfect
realization
of
form
, fearful
of
stillness
and
slack.
i
glance
at
the
sketches
from
older
artists
,
note
the
solitary
lines
without
hesitation
marks
,
the
willingness
to
let
the
surface
breathe
beneath
colour
,
the
foresight
to
focus
on
a
singular
part
of
the
whole
.
when
will
i
get
there
?
how
will
i
know
?
230721
what's it to you?
who
go
blather
from
