I used to paint and draw
all the time.
Self Portrait. Being process. 1974
There has been a lot of sorting through old journals and drawings this year. The Loose Pages. At one point in time, I cut a lot of the tiniest doodles off odd scraps of paper and envelopes, shopping lists and what ever it was I drew on. They became scraps in a shoebox. Visual notes to self. I liked them like that for the longest time. Now I am cataloging them. Digitally. Naming them. Providing a way to reconsider them. But then they go back in the box. Because I still like them that way. How I might pick one out and put it into the context of the day. Kind of like a paper component system, that is my thought today. A joyous thought actually.
