Dear Alien, In this our land of sad untempered rage We tip-toe like the Indian at night. We sense the quiet danger of the age And carry with us only what is light. We creep as creatures new to now restraint And hide before the haunted, hunting-call (Which cuts the cloaked darkness like a Saint Gone mad from fearful thinking of his fall.)
Welkom op mijn dagelijkse Nachttekeningen weblog. Elke avond maak ik een pentekening in een vierkant van ongeveer 8 bij 8 cm. De tekening ontstaat al krassend, dromend, associërend. De volgende dag scan en publiceer ik hem hier. In twee jaar tijd ontstonden zo meer dan 700 tekeningen. Welcome to my daily Night Drawings weblog. Every night I create a pen drawing in a square of around 8 by 8 cm. The drawing arises from scratching, dreaming, associating. The following day I scan and publish it here. In two years time more than 700 drawings originated from this process.
Dear Alien,
BeantwoordenVerwijderenIn this our land of sad untempered rage
We tip-toe like the Indian at night.
We sense the quiet danger of the age
And carry with us only what is light.
We creep as creatures new to now restraint
And hide before the haunted, hunting-call
(Which cuts the cloaked darkness like a Saint
Gone mad from fearful thinking of his fall.)
www.dearalien.blogspot
Hi alien,
BeantwoordenVerwijderenone of favorite drawings are navaho sand paintings. thank you for your mysterious poem.