I found this infant tree amid the grass at Emerald Lake Park, yesterday. It stung vivid vermilion amid the hardy, green stubble, and I plucked it out without a second thought, so sure was I that it was for me, that I would draw it, and that I would then plant it in my garden, where it would grow to be a strong and lissom maple (for what else could it be?).Well, I'm drawing it, anyway.
My intention was to work it in colour, and I may bleed some red ink into this. But reds are so fickle and tricky. They can sap all the colour out of a monotone drawing - truly! I think I might do better to make a second version in colour. I'm liking this one so much, as it is.
Taking a short break, today, while my wet and laboured page slowly dried, I leafed through old Rumi with the usual hope of a moment of grace.
My intention was to work it in colour, and I may bleed some red ink into this. But reds are so fickle and tricky. They can sap all the colour out of a monotone drawing - truly! I think I might do better to make a second version in colour. I'm liking this one so much, as it is.
Taking a short break, today, while my wet and laboured page slowly dried, I leafed through old Rumi with the usual hope of a moment of grace.
Funnily enough, these lines form part of the only poem bookmarked:
"we are the first double-leaf sprout
two inches out of the ground.
We need rain, or we may not grow
more than this."
excerpt from I Ask One More Thing
translation: Coleman Barks
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