Day One Hundred Seventeen

Listening to the drum of rain on the steps of the front porch punctuated by the frantic click of laptop keys as I type faster than I can think. If I could be any closer to this rain without drenching this computer, you would find me there. Storms have always both calmed and excited me; the change in pressure and the darkening of the sky as clouds sweep quickly across it making my heart race as I rush for a camera. As the clouds burst open, and drops begin to fall, excitement gives way to tranquility; every breath becoming increasingly deep, pulling in the scent of rain on brick and wet earth. The largest portion of this one is over now, I believe. There is only the occasional flash of lightning and crack of thunder. I suppose I’d better continue on, and fulfill the original purpose of this project.

Before I begin, I’d like to announce that Page 177 has broken free from the binding of this old Webster’s pocket dictionary, and will be cared for as tenderly as it’s the two other pieces of what was once one. (Meaning, for those of you that have not seen the careless manner with which I treat this poor book, not very tenderly.)

As I looked back on some of my older work, I realized that much of my current art has been put under the awful restraint of reality. Striving to “improve” my technique, I had lost some of the strangeness that is seen more clearly before I began to be concerned with miniscule details like the realistic portrayal of a human being. Darn this focus on technique! I decided to, little by little, peel away the layers of restraint and bring back the “weird”. Today’s word and the tools I had at hand provided the perfect opportunity to do just that.

be-smear v. To soil; to smear.

I began with a drawing in pencil of a strange character. For inspiration, I drew on the dress style I have come to love (only real women have that many buttons) and the small, dark-eyed, wild-haired creature that stared back at me from the mirror after a long, long day in the wind.

After completing the sketch, I lined it with paint to aid in the “besmearing” process, and stepped out onto the porch. Holding it out into the wind while the freezing (okay, not freezing, just cold) rain battered the both of us was not an entirely terrible process. It was oddly invigorating to be clinging to a soggy piece of watercolor paper by the light of a few windows on an empty street. Who knows what the neighbors think of me, but I’m pretty sure they’ve come to realize by now that this family is just strange. Anyway, I ended up with a very warped, very soggy, fairly interesting piece of work.

I really wish she would have smudged more; the rain was slightly too cold and separated the paint into pieces as opposed to making it run. Ah, well. There will always be another rainstorm and another sketch.

Thank you for reading; I hope you enjoyed today’s post and your weekend.

Xx

-r