It is a pilgrimage each person have to do at least once in her life time. That destination for me is the Secret Headquarters gallery. My Muhammad is the Art of James Jean.
His drawings touch me in the way unlike a hit in the gut, but a lock of hair strands that slowly tighten around your heart. The hands he drawn have a quiet intrigue about them, that overcomes you like how a desert sunset must have appeared to the lone traveler.
As i walked out of the crowded gallery into the cold of sunset blvd, my heart became a tender, sore hollow spot that's being squeezed so hard by the other organs, i couldn't breathe. All i can think of is, "there's something so clairvoyant in life, it gives out pain and pleasure simultaneously".
i was enlightened.
2 comments:
that's a pretty dramatic representation of the weekend. sounds like you had quite the time!
sketch is looking clean as h#ll - very nice.
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Damn. Very poetic. I'm winding down from a caricature gig tonight (Yukon Jack please stop the voices and let me sleep)and decided to read your earlier posts. Glad I did.
I just copied and pasted what you wrote and sent it to myself in an email. Good Show!
D
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