I realize its been a month since I’ve posted. I do have a good explanation for this. Aside from moving out of my apartment in Cincinnati, moving into an apartment in New York City, starting a new job and bouncing around from couch to couch in the meantime, my dog ate my computer. And sketch pad. And pens. Yep.
The other day on my way back to one of the many places I called home over the past month, I sat across from an elder woman. She was incredible, a beautiful woman so expressive in her silence and public solitude. I couldn’t tell if she was reading or staring at the pages deep in thought. I liked to think the later. The corner of her mouth dipped so low it nearly fell off her face. This woman had stories. She carried them in her drooping eyes, in her side-swept pewter hairs neatly tucked in place by the coarseness of the fiber, in the folds of her skin – a roadmap to the gatekeepers of her life’s past and present. After seeing her, I knew she would become my next sketch.
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