drawing [Theme] Page 3

I tried to do the impossible - to paint light itself.

Who wants
Honestly
To draw
He should
Something
Risk!

His room - cold square box, but also a refuge, since he could paint here, and no one was looking over his shoulder.

They are not allowed to touch yourself. For the most part, solitary. Trevor thought that if ever he will not be able to draw, he dies. This ability he always kept hidden in the corner of consciousness: the consolation of rope or razor, the confidence of the poison on the shelf that's just waiting to be swallowed. But, before leaving, he did not take.

Trevor even imagine could not, as it is not to draw. He could always force to move the arm. A blank page has always been a challenge, a place that needed to be filled.

- The child and the drawing is too. It is difficult to reconcile.
He will take away your markers?

- Very good! Then draw me?
- I don't paint people.
Why?
- I hate them... for the most part.
- Here is how? I hate people too. Hey, let's eat.

One day you will find in the closet of her portrait written with a ballpoint pen. There you will have crooked legs, square head, of the spit as the sun, squint and nose on her cheek. You kiss Doodle and decide that it was worth it.

... bent pine - the only and the best way to depict the wind, which otherwise you could not draw, he's invisible.

In a world of contrasts
There are no passionate feelings.
Whether it is "sincere" joy
Or love "perfect"...
Are drawn at speeds of days
Merge into straight lines.
And those pictures we're all alone,
In their greyness lies the sadness.
But I'm a black ember of the soul
On the brush with paint viminal,
Inside find a quiet corner,
And in this world no longer look for me...

I was painting rats for three years, and then someone told me: what a talented anagram of "art" (eng. rat and art). And I had to pretend I knew about this my whole life.

My contribution to the life of the world - my ability to draw. I will paint as you can for so many people, how many can, as long as you can.

And the same way, withdrawing into themselves, I continue to draw birds... And sometimes, looking in the mirror, I notice that he is nothing more than a bad sketch of a bird, written by the hand of an unknown artist on the crumpled piece of random reality.

Drawing is a metaphor of control. I select all the canvas, the colors... As a child I didn't understand the world and their place in it, but art taught me that his purpose can be achieved by ordinary will power. The same is true in life: you just don't let anyone stand in your way.