Studio diary

Recently I have a thought, maybe I am the sketch of myself. Some unfinished edges. Sometimes I go back to move forward.

I wonder if an upside down chair will fit in and hurt my sea of ​​quince trees.

Lately I go to the studio and only sketches come out and even those I feel like throwing away. Already a lot of mess in my head has come out and been thrown away.

A lot of my work is an analogy for my state of mind. On second thought, I think that all of them, somewhere the theme of picking yourself up from the bottom on two feet returns in the works every time in the composition and at a different point in time.

Yesterday when I was at grandma's we didn't turn on the TV. I opened my text document and we scrolled and where the finger stopped I read to her.

Sometimes one sentence in a flood of sentences makes you smile. It was not said personally, it was said in general to the open air that way it allows for interpretation and somehow it hurts the person.

Two lines from a poem - "With two feet on the wet ground."

Summer is crippling my brain.

Morning, black coffee, the booklet "Black and Solving" and my thoughts and me. I sometimes have a "delay" of a week. Digest meeting with past friends.

The story of digestion.

Carve in linoleum and ponder, write words and dot.