I’ve made it no secret that March is my least favorite month. Spring can’t come soon enough and the balance of everything, it seems, hangs ever so precariously during this month. It happens every year, which is odd – some sort of rhythmic cycle that I can’t make sense of. While some things are out of my control, I’ve been staying creative to keep myself grounded. Picked up drawing again (will post those at a later date) and have been keeping up the daily habit of drawing every day (usually late at night), A few months ago, I also started playing around with digital collages. Coincidentally, this is exactly how I taught myself photoshop in the mid-90s when Photoshop was a new thing. I took old family photos and superimposed them onto other photographs to create new stories and a little bit of fantasy, like the image I created of me and my grandmother for my last post. Back then, the collages were super low res, of course, and when I look at them now they’re absolutely terrible, but I look back at those evenings I locked myself in the bedroom with a computer and a mouse with fondness.
If you follow me on Instagram, then you’ve seen these images before. It feels weird to repost photos here sometimes, but I’d like to think that they live on here in posterity – Instagram is a fleeting medium, plus a blog post allows for further reflection.
The first photo of the girl on the swing is actually a “blueprint” for a series I’m thinking of working on. I wasn’t sure what medium I wanted to work with, but I think they may be drawings, hence all the portraits of people I’ve been practicing nearly everyday. I think what’s been surprising to me about doing artwork again is how therapeutic it’s been. Art therapy, who would have thought? Not me, as I feel I detached myself from art as I went through the motions in art school. But I can tell that I’m working out some things through my drawings, even if it’s not apparent in the artwork right now. But all in time. Progress sometimes is not meant to be rushed. It took me 25 years to draw again – 25 years before it felt right again.