Improv

Once, during a critique in grad school, the prof wondered why I shared myself so much in my work. I thought it was a strange question, because I don't know how else to make it.

   But lately, I've been tired of image. I think that is the hold up with my work right now. I'm tired of hearing my own voice, I think.

   Yesterday, I started out refining the lines of a drawing in my sketchbook that is a bit of a portrait of a dear friend who seems to be changing before my eyes. It didn't take too long for me to lose interest in it, because it was such a literal translation of that idea. 

   After a while I closed the book and decided to play with charcoal for a bit. Normally, I use charcoal reductively, which produces a very dark chiaroscuro effect. I'd intended to do that this time, but because I was testing out the suitability of the paper, the test shapes I put down began to look like elements from the drawing I'd just been working on. It was really freeing, because this drawing has the elements of the literal one in my sketchbook, but it also has the energy that the literal one lacked.