I very rarely plan any of the images I do.
I just let them arrive on their own.
This one however I think I will end up creating as a painting.
When I have finished it I will no doubt take a look at it and think, "Hmmm. Well it's ok but that original scribble I did on the blog was a million times better".
It's always the nature of these things.
Scrawled notes on serviettes and on the backs of envelopes are always a delight.
Not that I would ever be so vain to compare myself to him, but I wonder if Rembrant or Picasso or whoever ever say back and thought, "Geez, I didn't really nail that expression like I did in the margins of Saturdays paper". 
Thursday, May 05, 2005
Running, run, run
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
It's kind of like when you wake up from a dream and think it's really interesting and can't wait to tell someone about it... but when you actually start retelling it, it sounds just strange or boring... or confusing... and never as wonderful as it had been in your mind.
Sometimes I think that the middle of the night thoughts I scribble in my journal end up being more intersting than anything I sit down to write specifically.
Post a Comment