Hand-ground pigment, split timbers, scent and
the explosive splatter of haboku.
When I draw, my senses are open, the touch of the paper, the splintering of the wood, the sound — the gasp, the clasp, the rasp of the stroke of the brush on the stock.
We worked on the Lone Ranger, but the corvid insinuation above isn’t our design solution —
that’s another story.
I’ve thought about the fascination with the corvid class, the crows, ravens and jays for me.
Why do people associate crows, ravens and jays with underhanded doings, evil, the dark arts — seers in the other side of this plane of experience.
They are smart, seen as tricksters — and, to drawing — the boldly symbolic, the splashiest black, as wisps of smoke, spattered black on wood, stone and paper — they say a lot in the power of their presence.
Drawing them, perhaps the draughtsman evinces that power?
Like the sorcerer and the sigil, drawing that formulaic symbol stroke calls them forth,
the evocation and conjuring —
their name is called in the drawing.
I favor the intuition of energy, capturing the ch’i in
the drawing, the spirit of the presence, and less to the
lonely artifice of that which tries to draw the science of light and form,
in the engineered facility of perfect alignment —
what is scene, in scene, and what is seen — and known.
Drawing in the washy brush painting,
“Zen” style of suiboku — energized brush work,
in blacks and grays, softened in water —
the spirit of the subject comes out; this might be
in the shattered black of “broken ink” style, haboku, or “flying white” — speed, and the reveal of white show forth — or, as below — the caw, caw, scrawling of scratch on stone, mark on wood.
Hatsuboku is wetter, watered, splashier and spattered — in these flash drawings, “flying white,” that captures drier airiness of energy, flying.
I’m looking to capture the faster snatch of soul, in that moment.
Seeing these birds, the flicker
and explode in a ruffle of black.
I’ve been drawing on split timber, hauled and splintered with an axe.
And stone, and found timber.
I’m looking for that energy. In a manner, as designers in the place of brand, enterprise storytelling and interpretation, it all comes down to energy —
how is that attitude, that cant, the interpretation rendered —
the [il]lustration, the shining.
And when someone likes the telling — do they hold it?
Drawing it out,
it’s like a burst of idea,
Brush on wood, ink seeping into stone — there’s a heat in the translation; and in the drawing, you can smell the scent as it lays down — and a story is told in that formalized movement of translation, and transformation of that story — literally, physically, from one form to another.
See here, the splash of black, that storytelling:
Point is, there are allegories in the work —
deeper metaphors —
the depth of the practice; of course, the journey might be, right now —
what lies beneath, the layering of your efforts?
Tim | Girvin Island Studios
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