I have been pre-occupied with sketching a series of homeless people from pictures I find on the net. What a contrast this is from the sketches I make of my daughter. I look at their faces and wonder what their lives were like, what they looked like before life on the street branded itself on their faces.

Their eyes are hauntingly expressive. Some of them silently express a sad and deeply profound wisdom. In some pictures you can see an impish mischieviousness playing about their faces.

Sometimes, insanity.

Even the eyes that stare out vacantly--they speak volumes and volumes...emptiness, hopelessness and desolation. They no longer just live on the streets; they have "become" the streets.

Sometimes I sketch only the eyes because it seems that to sketch more would be too much...the eyes have said it all.

These are the faces that make us uncomfortable. Their existence has become a silent scream we cannot help but feel if we only look. These are the people we see and quickly avert our eyes from because............

Their stories are carved out in their faces like some terrible work of art. And so I sketch them. 

intimidation

 

sierpinski

 

Some things are better left unsaid
But they still turn me inside out
Tell me why
Tell me why

This is the book I never read
These are the words I never said
This is the path I'll never tread
These are the dreams I'll dream instead
This is the joy that's seldom spread
These are the tears
The tears we shed
This is the fear
This is the dread
These are the contents of my head
And these are the years that we have spent
And this is what they represent
And this is how I feel
Do you know how I feel?
'Cause I don't think you know how I feel
I don't think you know what I feel
I dont think you know what I feel
You don't know what I feel

Annie Lennox, Why 

recognition

A man should learn to detect and watch that gleam of light which flashes across his mind from within, more than the lustre of the firmament of bards and sages.

Yet he dismisses without notice his thought, because it is his.

In every work of genius we recognize our own rejected thoughts: they come back to us with a certain alienated majesty.

Ralph Waldo Emerson 

Dante's Inferno, part one

Midway on our life's journey, I found myself in dark woods, right road lost. To tell about those woods is hard; so tangled and rough and savage that thinking of it now, I feel the old fear stirring. Death is hardly more bitter. And yet to treat the good I found there as well, I'll tell what I saw though how I came to enter I cannot well say being so full of sleep whatever moment it was I began to blunder off the true path. But when I came to stop below a hill that marked one end of the valley that had pierced my heart with terror, I looked up toward the crest and saw it's shoulders already mantled in rays of that bright planet that shows the road to everyone, whatever our journey. ~Dante's Inferno~ 

 

 

 

 

woo hoo....filters, filters, filters!

...and Apophysis! ;) 

fun with filters