Sketchbook pages can be as fragmented as bizarre dreams, shifting kaleidoscopically from one impression to another.

Portraits and Pianos

I felt as if I had the room to myself, a private performance of musicians who came through the snow to play for me.  A bit surreal.  My mind wandered.

An empty stage and Valentines

Red metallic hearts hung from the ceiling, spiraling in the occasional draft of air that made its way through the door and around the corner.  I traded sheets of paper for my sketchbook, needing a connection between my wandering mind and my hand.  Memories of writing poetry forty years ago in the dim-lit bars of Boston crept like ghosts into the room, filling the empty chairs.  I needed live music then and I still need it now.  In place of words I draw lines, filling them with colors.  Am I addicted to the music or to making marks on paper? ….. I wonder.

Images: Top – pencil portraits of Arne Englund and Don Plowman, ink drawing of piano in the corner.

Bottom – drums and empty chair, sketch of Doc Z, Valentine Decorations, ink and watercolors

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