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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!

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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)

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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?

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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

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