Thoughts morphing into a story
Smoldering imagination beneath
Struggling and forcing
To breakout from the shells
Like an active volcano
Waiting to explode and burst
Teary eyes waiting
Endlessly swinging thoughts
Struggling with instincts
Waiting for blooming
Digging beauty and esthetics
A life purely driven with passion
Here I am, still hovering like a butterfly
I search for books, all sorts of materials
People’s personal stories
I study their belongings
Everything at Goodwill cheap and valuable
Fascinating at times
Marking their items to personalize them too
Many people giving up
My hobby is searching through history
I see quilts. I love it
I imagine many babies have been wrapped swaddled in it
Old books always inspire me
I like the smell, the aged faded colors
Looking more brown over the years
The quality of the paper is so perfect for me to sketch on
The design, the cover, the ink of choice
The way they transferred images
They used wax
Pure art
I am attracted to monochromes
It reminds me of Edgar Degas’ time
Strong tone, contrasts, gradation
Much better printing process but difficult
Definitely higher quality than the standard today
A process similar to drawing
My new discovery, a book on ballerinas
I sketch from it
Lots of dancers from the past
I stand at two meters stretching my branch
Indian ink with charcoal
Branches from the pomegranate tree
Short and long ones
Sketch from a distance
Sunlight in my garage
People walking their dogs outside
Others jogging.
Listening to EthioJazz’s one and only Mulatu Astatke,
My little daughter talking to herself
Layers of sound and actions
Actually guiding the movements of my sketch
I am expecting one beautiful sketch
Anatomically aesthetic and capturing the motion
So my beautiful sketch
Sketch she was a simple sketch - my day’s success
I called her Natalia Matsak, a Ukrainian ballerina
As she moves with the wind and sound
Morphing into a beautiful drawing
A clock in the background
With butterflies
Drew her on linocut
Patience needed in abundance
With due diligence and generous time
I carved her out
Like Eduard Munch The Scream
I am exhausted, lots of mess in studio
All this time spent
I pray for my higher self to guide me to the result I hope for
Plans underway for her future, but all in my mind
It’s a journey of hope
Printed her over and over but different each one
I use only my hand no printing press
Now on woodcut paper
Now she is waiting hope and colors
I am done creating her
I have given birth to a piece of art
She is free now, letting her go
I wonder now how the real Natalia is
There is a war where she is from
“Are you dancing today?
Can you still hear the music?”
Were the clock counts backwards?
And could undo the drums of war
You will be a spectacular Fuchsia vivid purplish red color
Ravishing dancing like blossoming daffodils
Swinging in clusters like prize jewels
Blooming from late spring until the first frosts
Attracting butterflies like Beethoven pieces
Now you are in a womb, in the universe
You will be celebrated, you will be free
Hope is coming to you
But now you are in the dark
All the birds and butterflies will hear the sound of war
The thunders of bombs and artillery fire
There is no roof, no windows, and no house
I wish I could turn the clock back
Back to the calm spring seasons
Where the birds were singing,
The butterflies hovering
Where are you today?
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