Exploratory Ink Drawings: The Purpose Being to Seek Purpose – Works on Paper.

January 14, 2018 in Uncategorized

India ink on paper


I choose media by instinct, availability, compatibility, and purpose.  In the past, this has worked in my favor, complimenting spontaneity and innovation by producing an original satisfying piece of artwork. Recently, this process has become confused, different and I find myself seeking an answer to what has changed.


I am starting to understand, feel through and talk about some of the traumatic things that happened in my childhood (it has changed me, as it would any human being). My artwork has gone through many phases in my adult life. There are so many variables to consider, and they’re always changing. What stands out for me now is purpose. Whether I am aware of an artwork’s purpose, or not, there always is one – even if it seems silly or mundane – when in doubt I go with my instincts. A gut feeling can never steer one wrong when it comes to creating something.


For some months now, I have mainly been making pen and ink drawings, dimensions range, anywhere from 2 inches by 3 inches to 20 inches by 26 inches. Sometimes with other materials, tools, but always, drawing with pen-tip and black and red India ink. There must be at least 40 of these drawings. The purpose? I need to rely on some sort of stability, something that I can control is soothing and time-consuming. I can focus on a tiny section of a large drawing for 3 hours or generalize a small composition in 10 minutes, all depending on what I need at the time. Having dealt with or avoided dealing with PTSD most of my life, I have come to rely on repetition in my artwork as a necessary and important element.

During the drawing process, I became aware of a handful of things, like handwriting but only unique to this cluster of work, certain smudges made by a finger or a line drawn over and over – It is like trying to get a bad taste out of your mouth or a song out of your head. Despite the repetition, I still draw with purpose. Sometimes I feel like I’m going to find my goddamn answers if it kills me…well…kills my hand. I built up quite a callous, am proud of it and show it off to anyone that gives a shit. I doubt anyone will read this anyway, so, if you see me and care, I will be happy to show you my callous!


Thinking the answers to all of my questions are just around the corner, in a painting, about a series of work, even a line away, is a common fault of mine. When I sit quietly with myself I realize that I already possess the answers to my questions and that I had been previously engaged in another symptom of PTSD – a really bad memory.