A few days ago: one of those anxiety dreams in which what you want eludes you, but all sorts of things (nice, but not what you’re looking for in the dream; trivial or material things) are coming at you easily, unbidden. It’s difficult to wake up from such a dream feeling at ease. Where does anxiety in the subconscious end and anxiety in the waking mind begin? They are interconnected, the same; there’s no answer.
Maybe it’s because my birthday’s coming up; maybe it’s the waning of the year, the winding down (or winding up) to new numbers for things like Liz, and year. But, then, I’m not much of a one for numbers.
This post was meant to be a Storytelling moment, but nothing narrative is coming to mind; hasn’t all week. Some more drawings, then. They are little stories in themselves. Gestural drawings, in particular, can be very telling.
e daggar art: THE MUSEUM 