The Automatic Prophetic Drawing of a Bug.

When I draw I start making marks on a page and I have no idea what is going to come out.

Sometimes I just start lightly scribbling on paper.

This drawing (to the left) ,which I have entitled "The Beheading" is a good example of this automatic drawing process.

What triggered "The Beheading" was a blotch on the wall of a coffee shop (Allan Brother's on Hilyard Street in Eugene, Oregon). The blotch suggested a shape--a man's profile and I pulled out my sketchbook to make marks on the paper similar to the blotch on the wall.

A few days later I had finished the drawing, working a few hours a day.

I didn't know that I was going to color in the drawing until right before I did it. For the color palette I decided to used the colors I found on a leaf: green, sienna brown, scarlett red, and golden yellow. I added the blue because it was the color of the sky and leaves and sky make nice juxtapositions.

I like the automatic drawing process because I am always surprised at what comes out. It feels like it comes from deep inside my psyche rather than from my brain. It seems free and wild like a mustang rather than being in harness like an old plow horse.

There was an art movement in the early 1900's called Dada which led to another art movement called Surrealism. Both of these groups practised automatic writing and drawing. The technique of automaic drawing was invented by Andre Masson and practised by Andre Breton, Salvador Dali, Jean Miro and others. I didnt invent it and I am thankful to those that did and went on to use it so successfully.

In my drawings sometimes what comes out is dark and disturbing and I think "Oh, that will never hang in someones dining room."

However, I try not to judge the work. (There are enough people around to do that for me!) I try not to stop what comes out, but get myself out of the way. It feels like I am prophesying but with images rather than words.

The graphite pencil drawing of the man pulling at his mouth is another example of automatic drawing.

This one, entitled "Mouth-Puller", started when I began scribbling on a big piece of paper with vine charcoal. I was heartbroken and going through a break-up with my wife and was living in a friend's basement. It was a dark time in my life and this image had to come out--had to be birthed.

Now, I will decipher for you some of my artistic code; if you look to the upper left corner of the drawing you will see a dim sun on the horizon. To me the sun seems threatening and poisonous as if tainted with radioactivity. To me it represents God, the Universe, the hand of Fate.

When I drew this I no longer felt trust that everything in life would go well. I no longer trusted the Universe to be kind to me. Rather, it seemed as though the Universe hurt me in an uncaring scientific way. As if I were a bug in a jar.

Do you see the black sunflowers under the figure's left hand? Notice the title of my blog?

I will leave the meaning of the black sunflowers for another day. If you write a comment to me and ask what is the meaning of the black sunflower I will tell you. It has a lot of significance.

Thanks for reading my blog and for looking at my art. Please leave comments--I really like to hear feedback, it is almost as good as getting a letter in the mail.

Suicide and Survival Portraits: Writing and Drawing

Over the last year I did a series of about fifty self portraits--usually when I was feeling depressed and suicidal. I call them the "Suicide Portraits".

Last night, around midnight, I did this blue self portrait. I wasn't feeling suicidal just a little lonely--which is normal-- and that is why I call this one a "Survival Portrait". I have survived the desolation and trauma of broken dreams, a broken marriage, and a broken heart.

With all the portraits I added brief writings, describing my thoughts and feelings. I will eventually publish the drawings and writings together.
Here is the writing that went along with this drawing:

"I never seem to draw myself looking very attractive. I only try to draw what I see and not project any sort of mood onto it, yet the drawings always capture what I am feeling at the time.

I can't call this one a suicide portrait because I wasn't feeling suicidal. Perhaps I ought to call it a survival portrait. Thoughts of suicide still come to me, usually as images of myself hanging or of me sticking a gun in my mouth. But the images are dull and faded like old photographs in an album--like whispers rather than the earlier screams.

I have been so busy with schoolwork that I don't have time to sit around and brood. School has put off my anxiety about the future until another day. It's nice to have more immediate goals.

In the end I may be a crazy mumbling artist living in a cardboard box, but at least I will have taken my shot at honoring the muse. I am doing this by working to get degrees in Fine Art and Creative Writing.

Matsuo Basho, a Haiku and Renku Master, was one of the world's greatest poets, yet he lived in his soggy broken "Banana Hut". I wish I had the peace Basho attained--maybe I will someday have it.

Earlier tonight the rich neighbors--the ones that strung up all the white Christmas lights--had a Christmas party. I heard loud voices and barking laughter then a woman shouted, 'I love you.' A minute later there was the slamming of car doors. Now there is only silence and the sound of the rain."

I don't know why, over the last year, I drew all those portraits. I guess I was trying to get outside the suffering a little bit--to get outside my body and focus on the task of drawing. What I do know is that I felt driven to do it and I know that the process helped get me through the dark time.

Also, I don't know why I feel compelled to share what I draw and write.

One hope I have is that I can share my love of writing and drawing and that, like a spark, it will touch off the tinder in someone's heart.
My hope is that I can share what worked--and still works for me--so that some of it may work for someone else.
In that vein I will share a few things:

Two inspiring books on writing--"Writing Down the Bones", and "An Old Friend From Far Away". Both books are by Natalie Goldberg. The later one is about writing memoir and contains many prompts and exercises.

Two inspiring books on drawing--"Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain" by Betty Edwards. (I found that the best part of this book--for me--is the chapter on Blind Contour Drawing. C.f., Elizabeth Layton and her art that was inspired by this chapter.)

And "Keys to Drawing" by Bert Dodson.

I found these books to be very inspiring and helpful, but you don't have to wait to get the books, you can start now.

Try this: set down with a piece of paper and a pen or pencil. Set a timer for ten minutes. Keep your pen or pencil moving until the timer goes off. (If you get stuck keep writing and just write "I feel stuck, I feel stuck" until you feel unstuck.)
Try the prompt, "I remember...." You can use "I remember..." again and again and later go back and cross most of them out once they have served the purpose of triggering your memory.

Try this: set down with a piece of paper and a pen or pencil. Set on object in front of you-- something that means something to you or that is interesting. Set a timer for ten minutes. Keep your pencil moving until the timer goes off. Follow the edges of the object in front of you as if your pencil tip was an ant slowly creeping along, tracing it out. Draw what you see and take the time to really look. Tip: you ought to look more at the object you are drawing than at the paper.

Remember go easy on yourself and don't let your inner critic spoil the fun.


If you find these tips or books useful I would really appreciate hearing about it from you. Good luck!

The Drawing Spirit and Sabi

Today is a cold winter day, yet it is sunny outside. There is an oak tree in the back yard and it has held onto many of its leaves. The leaves look like old green paper. I can see the roots of the tree burrowing down into the ground like fat fingers. I wonder if they feel the cold?

Early this morning I was reading Haiku by the Japanese Poet Matsuo Basho. In many of his poems there is what the Japanese call Sabi. It means loneliness, quiet, emptiness. It carries with it a melancholy flavor. Sometimes I think that my realistic drawings carry this Sabi--at least I feel this while I am drawing.

I am trying to perfect my drawings and yet make them simple and direct just as Basho worked, to the end of his life, to do this with his poems. This kind of refinement is rare in American/ Western culture but is found in Japanese and Chinese culture.

Some of the things the Japanese use in the pursuit of this refinement are flower arranging, Bonsai, Kendo, calligraphy, and tea ceremony. I admire them very much for this.

In my poor way I will continue to work on my art as I follow the Japanese (and Chinese) example of "perfection" and "attainment."

As I work on my art I find that the inside of me also changes: it gets quieter, more still; it looks deeper.

I look for life between the cracks and in the hidden corners: the spider web near the basement window and how it has trapped light and dust; the trees as they appear through the fog and how the city lights turn them into silhouettes. Anything can be beautiful and a subject for a drawing: insects, cups, a deformed ear, an old shoe, the reflected light in the iris of an eye, or a blue vein in the hand as it winds it's way down the finger.


Natalie Goldberg, a writer and practising Buddhist uses her writing as a spiritual practise. She wrote one of the greatest books on writing. It is called "Writing Down The Bones."

She is a great inspiration.

Wish me luck as I wind my way down the long road in the pursuit of Sabi.
I still have a long way to go and time is short.