Saturday 11 October 2014

"He Plays Her Like a Violin..."


"My work is my diary"... I write stuff down occasionally, but usually it's the stream of "subconscious" drawings seeping onto Sketchbook paper that documents the oblique mess, my "Stains of Time" that is my general movement between dream, reality and the Ether of the Drawing Zone. Heavy Shit, huh?

And despite the anatomical errors in this picture, I still like it for the concept and colour.

"He plays her like a violin"....

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