Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Passive Fish


 I have a bad habit of doodling on my desk if I happen to be sitting there while on the phone(as seen in the image above). I was on a long phone call with a friend and I found myself automatically picking up the nearest drawing utensil, which happened to be a violet color pencil. Before I realized it I had sketched the entire head and began to work on the body when it occurred to me that I may as well put it down on paper. The image below is the result after. I used a Faber-Castell Fine PITT artist pen for some outlines and Crayola Portfolio series watercolor pencils for color.



Sunday, April 15, 2012

Triptych: The Guardians, The Ghost and The Wandering Heart





 Oil on canvas
Each canvas is 36 by 12 inches


Finally complete, this triptych took a lot of effort on my behalf. It also took a long time for me to finish because I only worked on it here and there for the past year. However, I'm rather proud of the outcome. I'm not sure if I'll be doing more triptychs in the future but I already have an idea for a series. Long before the completion of this project I came up with a bit of prose for this particular piece which I post below.

The Guardians, The Ghost and the Wayward Heart.

Suns and moons of eons go by. Cumulus formations adrift in a sky composed of many shades of blues. I see them all passing by as I sit here, chained and rooted.

The Guardians, women in white dresses that billow in the breezes of ages, do not speak to me. The emotionless masks they wear has worn me down. In the beginning when time was a child, I spoke to them incessantly, tirelessly, yet they never answer. They are stones eternal upon which I cast my crumbling hopes.

My heart, stored in a canopic jar in the shape of an ancient deity left me a long time ago. It travels in the hands of others, passing place to place, person to person - a wanderer in its own right. A wayward heart that will never return home.


I am alone here except for the ghost of my lover that torments me. Wordlessly it hovers in front of me and in shame I don my own emotionless mask. The forgiveness I yearn for will never be given.