Gosh. You’ve got no idea how much I needed to read exactly this. I finished writing my book and all I feel is desolation. Maybe it’s because it’s done now, so it’s not part of me any more and I feel terribly lonely.
It was so nerve wracking, having it in my head - could I get it out? - but when I’d lie in bed trying to sleep and failing, I had my book in my head and that made me happy and excited for the next day.
Now it’s gone and the dark is just dark and seems so endless. I feel like the characters have ghosted me and got on with their lives without me - and they find me quite silly.
I hope I don’t sound morbid, it’s just that your essay makes me realize why I’m feeling slightly bereft when I should be happy.
And, although I’m sad and worried - because what if I’ve got no more lines in the dark to draw - your essay also makes me feel slightly optimistic.
This whole post feels too dark and I probably shouldn’t post it but I will anyway!
I’m in need of not knowing. Working in the studio on an intaglio plate, I took a moment to read your post (waiting for ground to dry). I think being in the dark while the marks manifest out of mystery is exactly why this medium appeals to me. The depth of the dark is the goal - thank you for sharing (just needed to read it all twice just brilliant)
I was in SFMOMA today, looking at one of his big chalkboard paintings. I think it’s not only the confidence and expression of his line, but his willingness to go all on and big. It’s minimal at scale. And looks effortless.
On the mundane level, it's getting harder to find darkness (as a mostly city dweller). I wonder how that affects our psyche and adaptability to live in our dark moments.
I have not had the opportunity to see Cy Twombly's work in the flesh. I look forward to that one day, illuminating the way to drawing.
I am in South Korea, last day of 3 weeks. Without planning it we ended up at the War Museum. A history of darkness. And fighting oppression. Now we are in an all black café called Context.
On this unremarkable grey day, with accents of lime green on the trees (which I'm trying very hard to use to infuse my soul with energy and happiness), I am wishing that something marvellously lovely would pop into my life - like an unexpected tulip I forgot I planted. I mean, it can happen, right?
OH wow. I was just thinking about this myself - how I want to draw as authentically as my two year old. Thank you for this post. I love Cy Twombly's lines and scribbles. xo
Just reading this now. It just came to me I didn't look hard. I have often thought of weaving Saori style, in the dark. I have my loom, my front porch, and plenty of dark nights where I live. Why haven't I tried it? Also with mark making I need to try this. I am always looking for my authenticity. Thanks Jason
Gosh. You’ve got no idea how much I needed to read exactly this. I finished writing my book and all I feel is desolation. Maybe it’s because it’s done now, so it’s not part of me any more and I feel terribly lonely.
It was so nerve wracking, having it in my head - could I get it out? - but when I’d lie in bed trying to sleep and failing, I had my book in my head and that made me happy and excited for the next day.
Now it’s gone and the dark is just dark and seems so endless. I feel like the characters have ghosted me and got on with their lives without me - and they find me quite silly.
I hope I don’t sound morbid, it’s just that your essay makes me realize why I’m feeling slightly bereft when I should be happy.
And, although I’m sad and worried - because what if I’ve got no more lines in the dark to draw - your essay also makes me feel slightly optimistic.
This whole post feels too dark and I probably shouldn’t post it but I will anyway!
I’m in need of not knowing. Working in the studio on an intaglio plate, I took a moment to read your post (waiting for ground to dry). I think being in the dark while the marks manifest out of mystery is exactly why this medium appeals to me. The depth of the dark is the goal - thank you for sharing (just needed to read it all twice just brilliant)
I was in SFMOMA today, looking at one of his big chalkboard paintings. I think it’s not only the confidence and expression of his line, but his willingness to go all on and big. It’s minimal at scale. And looks effortless.
On the mundane level, it's getting harder to find darkness (as a mostly city dweller). I wonder how that affects our psyche and adaptability to live in our dark moments.
I have not had the opportunity to see Cy Twombly's work in the flesh. I look forward to that one day, illuminating the way to drawing.
As always I appreciate your writing, Jason.
I am in South Korea, last day of 3 weeks. Without planning it we ended up at the War Museum. A history of darkness. And fighting oppression. Now we are in an all black café called Context.
On this unremarkable grey day, with accents of lime green on the trees (which I'm trying very hard to use to infuse my soul with energy and happiness), I am wishing that something marvellously lovely would pop into my life - like an unexpected tulip I forgot I planted. I mean, it can happen, right?
OH wow. I was just thinking about this myself - how I want to draw as authentically as my two year old. Thank you for this post. I love Cy Twombly's lines and scribbles. xo
Just reading this now. It just came to me I didn't look hard. I have often thought of weaving Saori style, in the dark. I have my loom, my front porch, and plenty of dark nights where I live. Why haven't I tried it? Also with mark making I need to try this. I am always looking for my authenticity. Thanks Jason
would love to see a looming in the dark image!