Roadside Dandelion (in progress)

This little fellow runs dangerously near to cliché, but I am trying to obey the tiny but decisive voice in my head that says 'yes!' to some things and not to others.

It is a voice separate from my rational mind, which has been deeply conditioned to be superstitious of all beauty, but, frankly, has no idea what is beauty and what isn't. The tiny voice has quite a mind of its own. It says 'yes!' to my sandals and 'no!' to my boots. It says 'yes!' to the tiny double-leaf sprout, but sadly, 'no!' to the lovely blue feather I also found on my Emerald adventure. It says 'yes!' to garbage bags - almost always! - but 'no!' to the rags of which I have made so many drawings in the past. The tiny voice changes its mind, too, usually after a drawing has been made. The bamboo boats it insisted on so fervently two years ago, are of no interest, now, though I hold them in nice light and say, 'please?' (because I love them).

My opinionated little friend is therefore my most trusted compass for what to work with, next. If it says, 'oh, that roadside weed is so you, this season,' I will take the advice, because I usually learn why, later on.

So far, my grouchy mistrust of the weed (which I tied gingerly to a pillar in my studio, feeling sure a dog must have pissed on it) has already changed to sheer delight at the jerky abandon of the leaves. And the drawing throws up enough demands and challenges for my rational mind to be appeased.