Been attending Saturday morning figure drawing at the local massage school for the last three weeks. They are the same Saturday sessions my mom used to attend 20 years ago when I was little girl left at home. In going I connect to her; our life strands crossing (weaving) as I sit in the same room and follow the same complicated dance with my(her) left hand echoing the lines and shadows found in other bodies.
There is a reconnection to my own practice as well. Anxious and scattered at the beginning of the session, my hands fumble with pencils and sharpener, but halfway through the first or second drawing I find focus [the angle is here and just so] and by end of the three hours my mind is quiet and refreshed wishing for more. The best part? Coming home with drawings I like. . .
A few of my favorites:
small scanner + big paper= weird light)
