S u
s a n
F i e
l d gualala, ca
Journal
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Drawings April 14, 2007 – Saturday Have
worked 6 hours today to organize the studio. Arrived at 8:30 this morning, and it’s 2:30. Have done all I can with what’s up
here. Now it’s nearing the time to
rent a U-Haul truck for the tables & chairs, flat file, bookshelf, etc. I’m
elated. Things are fitting great on
the shelves, and I didn’t have to throw out as much as I’d expected. Have organized areas for textures, drawing
materials, paints, with completed works either on the bottom shelves or at
the very top, where I won’t need them every day. The front room has been cleared, with the gumboots
in a corner to pick up where I left off months ago. I
watched the movie “Art School Confidential” a few nights ago. Most of it was right on the mark. The main character watches as another
student wins all the praise: gets the prize,
gets the dealer, gets the girl. He
tries to figure out what to do, since talent isn’t enough. The twist in the plot that lands him where
he wants to be -- recognized and commercially successful -- is a funny/sad
commentary on the tension between art and “making it.” This
morning, before I put on my iPod earphones, I heard the hawk screech high in
the outside trees. April 28, 2007 – Saturday Yesterday
as we were driving up, I told F. I haven’t done any artwork since So, for
lack of a chair, I’ve dragged the ladder over to the end of a table and am
sitting on one of the steps. The
window at my back is open to the sun. *** Just
now, for 15 minutes, I did some drawings.
My sketchbooks aren’t here yet, they’re in boxes in the old studio, so
I dug out old lined memo paper, maybe 4 x 6”, and set out 12 sheets on the
table. Found a pencil and just started
drawing. Sometimes the lines were
repetitive as if searching for something hidden in the paper. The shapes weren’t particularly interesting
but I let the pencil drift where it wanted, and I let my hand feel the
pleasure of movement. I listened to the
guy in his metal shop next door humming a Gordon Lightfoot song. Sometimes I pressed the lead down hard,
sometimes I let up. When it was time
to move on to the next blank sheet, I did.
Toward the end, the shapes became like leaves, which I like to think
points to something growing, something alive. I’ve
tacked a couple of them to the wall, my first work done here, come to inhabit
this place. |
© Susan Field, LLC
2007. All rights reserved.