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… Continue reading little stories
Fancy dreams this morning— traveling. Somewhere in the UK: an old, wood-carved and velvet house, rambling and endless. Met a racehorse in the breezeway; sport of kings and single malts neat. Took a million photos and woke up really wishing I could see them.
Vltava River and the Charles Bridge My wounded wing has regained much of its movement, but it’s been carrying a dull ache the past few days. Could be from the cycling I did earlier in the week (leaning on it), could be barometric. Maybe it’s just the mending process. * * * Had… Continue reading A trip, a map and a flood— all fiction
Strange and endless dreams early this morning—cross-pollination of recent work and a Netflix binge. I was designing an image program / slideshow that was, in its entirety, regarding serial killers— when young, where lived, etc. Gruesome (both the content and the schedule), wake-in-a-sweat stuff. Why must I work in my sleep? Not RESTFUL! Followed by… Continue reading Sleep, memory
Unintentionally patriotic feet, in tertiary variations on red and blue. A friend recently asked what art I've been working on, and my answer was, sadly, none. I'm feeling a need to do something so I return to the blog—I do enjoy writing. Maybe it will spark something. Independence Day yesterday; a barbecue on a friend’s… Continue reading The fleeting nature of dreams and summer
A reiteration of a bit from an entry made some years ago: My dreams are bound together with waxed sail thread, glue stick and cello tape. The faint image above is a test I worked with silverpoint last night. I'd have done more but my makeshift silverpoint stylus was very poor indeed, involving a length… Continue reading silverpoint
I miss my vivid dreams of last year... the recalling of them took some time each morning, and I miss that time– I want them to come back in all their colors and vibrancy.
This morning I wrote down a dream for the first time in many months. It had taken place in or around a dream New Orleans, and involved a visit from family; the finding of a magical (not literally) antiques shop; stopping in at an editing facility where several friends from the old days worked; and… Continue reading drawings of two, both of whom began with hats
It's come to me attention recently that it's been ages since I've written so much as a sentence about a dream I've recalled on waking. I have, in the past week or two, actually had some wisps of imagery on a few mornings, but it seems that my recollection skills have waned in direct proportion… Continue reading a dearth of dreams
It was in a dream, and I was writing the names and routes of kids from the school in the district. I'd been placed for some reason in an office relating to the busing of schoolchildren. I'd begun by sorting and opening the mail, and realized too late that I'd opened an envelope for the… Continue reading As I recorded the relevent details I saw my writing grow increasingly larger and more ornate.
e daggar art: THE MUSEUM 