Ink

I looked at old sketches and drawings today, wishing my good pens weren't clogged (that's no excuse not to draw though.). One was a collaboration with my friend Krystal (who is probably now living in a trailer under a waterfall and photographing street hippies), which I still really love because somehow pictures of anatomic hearts are intriguing. The last drawing used copious amounts of the special spidery-tipped ink pens.


Ink lately has been more used for writing letters, or journaling, or studying.
I like it better that way, even if it's unartistic.
(The pens dried up because of lack of use, after all.)

I never want creativity to dry up, but life happens (and life is more important).
I like it.
It just has to be woven together better.
And I'll draw today, I promise.

love, cait