A Drawing Lesson

A Drawing Lesson


Can we escape who we are? I think of myself as an artist making drawings,
even when the charcoal is replaced by a spoken word or by an ink word, where we are led by
a line, in this case by an ink line, a kind of lapidary thinking and drawing, an embroidery
of words and lines. To bring us to some new image, to some new
sentence, and then to take this all back, all the potential taken back. All the potential returned into the pen, the
barrel of the pen refilled, the pen becoming again a loaded weapon full of every other
thought that is yet to be expressed. But understanding that as each word is said,
it cuts off all the possibility of other thoughts. Can a drawing escape where it is going? When it begins, when one is circling the studio,
everything is possible. There’s a new sheet of paper, all the energy is
waiting in one’s arm ready to make the decision. But as it lands, as it gets ready to land,
all that potential gets limited, gets coalesced, and it becomes… a coffee pot. Launched again, a new sheet of paper, new
possibilities, and while the shards are in the air there’s the, it’s possible for, for,
it’s possible for anything to arrive. But what comes? Another coffee pot. There’s a question of can we better than we
are, can we be other than we are. There’s the hope for something new to arrive,
that this time, this time, this time there will be something different. But what comes… a typewriter. Trying for something new in what will happen. Can we stop the redaction of all potentiality? And in the end we are reduced to making ourselves
as a self portrait. A self portrait as a rhinoceros, a self portrait
as a typewriter, a self portrait as a coffee pot, a self portrait as a megaphone. All that we wish we could be. And then there is a torschluss-panik, the
fear that with each decision that is made, with the final arrival of the image, all other
images are cut out, the door to other possibilities closes behind us, and we turn in panic to
the sound of that door. And what would we wish for? I mean, for the shards, for once, to land as
a phrase in the subjunctive, in French ultramarine? For a diagram of a galaxy in cobalt violet? For a gryphon, for a baby sphinx in one’s
arms? For a clear line of sight from the history
of Greek slavery to the complexities of the political situation we are in now? We’d wish for a painting of peonies by Robert
Motherwell, in rose madder alizarin. For the design of a new escapement for a watch.
For just one unqualified, unguarded, declarative certainty. But even as these possible ideas emerge, they
become so limited, so small, and the gap between that part of us which feels all that we should
be gets larger and larger, and the only safe space is the edge, the margins, of the circle. (music)

5 thoughts on “A Drawing Lesson

  1. Increíble y sencillo dibujante con gran maestría y creatividad ….un gran maestro….para la producción del Arte

  2. A drawing can escape ,fold it into a paper airplane and throw it out the window ,for God’s sake go and have a cup of coffee and stop waffling on .

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