Intimidation

Dutch just set up my drafting table. And cleaned it off. Now he is currently sleeping in, so I practically have the house to myself. Not to mention the hours I spent culling, organizing and putting away my supplies in a hopefully rational way, so that when I need them I can find them again.

I am finding this a very difficult situation. After a year of pursuing other things, I have a chance to return to an old love. All my old practices, of carrying around a sketchbook, of writing 'ol Julia Cameron's morning pages, of a religious devotion to life drawing are no longer a part of my daily routines. I don't have a project I am in the middle of. I don't have any deadlines (that is not true, I do have a deadline, but its a biological one).



So now I sit at my organized space (relational and physical) and nothing is coming to me. Should I collage? Should I play with photos on the computer? Should I blog? (that is the easy one) Should I try to draw some comics? A submarine? A fat camille?

Part Two



Shortly after asking myself the above agonizing questions, I tried sitting down at The Drafting Table. I spied an old friend, the Cat Box. The Cat Box has always been a constant muse, inspiring an entire Submarine (now sadly out of print). I love love love bones. So much so, that I am verklimpt right now. I might even love them more than atom crashers. (Did you see those amazing pictures of the new Hadron Super Smasher?)



I pulled this little rascal out of the ziplock baggie of small bones. I pulled out a favorite crow quill pen and some Dr Martin's ink.



Now I am ready to wake up Dutch. (insert devilish snickering)