My breath is the constant sound in the room. I can hear it in a low, deliberate rhythm entering my ears as I concentrate on the colours and shapes in front of me. My fingers are rough and charcoaled and my mind is at ease behind the curtain of my vision as I draw. Breath, colours, and death on the television. You’d guess I was high on some kind of a sexy, transporting drug…but I’m not. Just me and my drawing and cider and one kick ass show that I refuse to watch to the end.
I don’t know if it’s that I’m working on my last piece for the exhibit..or the heat of the day…or knowing that this show I’ve come to rely on is approaching a finish; but I feel melancholy as I work.
It’s a big adventure I’ve taken on this time. An adventure I really know nothing about and am trying to hold tight to my hope and belief in a sparkling success. The three constants in this process is the unknown result, the joy in the drawing, and the progression in my skill…it’s worth giving it a shot for sure.
I’m almost ready for the end. For the end of my superstitious drinking…I can’t keep that going for forever and expect no repercussions to my health, figure, quality of life; for the end of this season of Six Feet Under…I can’t keep watching the last three episodes over and over hoping to hold on a little longer; and for the end of my drawing and the opening of my art exhibit…it has to come soon…it will be fantastic and magical and will be gone in a blink but that’s how these adventures work.
I feel invincible when I jump into these adventures without preparing a safety net. I feel invincible as these adventures grow and form and…come to life.
Hope you will be there with me during that blink of an eye….