Yesterday I began drawing once again; I have not done so for its own sake for what seems a very long time. The pencil is so incisive and yet so gentle, like no other medium. Graphite slides off the point in response to my decisiveness, tentativeness, hesitation and insistence. It does not lie, it is an analytical instrument that exposes thoughts and my ability to portray them. Its limits are my own. Its freedom is my own. It veils and discloses, it explicates and it confounds.
I shall draw continuously as a means of asking questions and finding answers. These preliminary sketches are the start of an exploration intended to bring forth ideas for some of the works I have in mind. Particularly what I call for now, Oracle and Sculpture Waiting for Meaning. But the story does not end there. Drawing opens up a world of meaning that is not there in writing. Both writing and drawing are means of externalising thoughts and feelings; they inhabit different realms limited by their own modes of expression and powers to imply. By drawing I recognise my own limitations and constraints which heightens a sense and understanding of freedom.