Out of Doors

I sketched trapezoidal shapes in lime green gel pen, floating as if half open windows.  The three of them are suspended in horizontal lines of blue, really torquoise blue lines.  Each lime ¨window¨ in the triptcych has a small gray rectangle at the left as if they are hinged, while hanging free in the air.

Floating below this open air feel of windows is a series of tighter blue lines that feel water-like and they end at the bottom of the sketch with a few waves.  One wave is burgundy red.

I am writing this morning into the ¨what was I thinking?¨ idea of this sketch I did on Labor Day weekend.  It was evening, and rather than holing up in my tiny room at the Victorian hotel, San Loremo, I sat at a table outside the Italian restaurant downstairs.

The sketch brought back the feel of walking at Fishermans Wharf, being out in the air all day on a perfect SF Saturday, and having laughed and talked with my bestie from HS.  We had an upper shelf margarita in a sunlit cafe, we laid around on blankets in the Ghirardelli park, and we toured the schooner and boats at the maritime museum.

But I think my odd little sketches in my new book, with a limited palette of 4 gel pens are more than a snapshot of my impression of the day.

This sketch, I think, seems to say something about opening up to possibilities and staying free.  Fresh air is like not getting bogged down in bad habits of thought.

The windows swinging from airborne hinges hint at a view in which the transience of living is rather lovely and aesthetic.

The windows could be work and creativity and social life.  The hinges, I’m certain, are the realities that constrain each.  Time is a hinge.  A way we swing forward or look back, but a way we are anchored here — only in this moment.

But windows are views, which can swing either way and I like to think this little sketch is an optimistic view of my future. Lifting a line from this free write then, I would say that the sketch is really about….

opening up to possibilities

Perhaps one of the hardest things about being mortal and becoming more aware of limitations as I age — and keenly aware as I live with my elderly mother — is that the hinge wants to say that pain and weakness are all there really is.  Weariness can overtake a mind and then that’s all there is.  Without living in a la-la land, I have been finding more of the lovely in the moments on the front porch swing, or flung down on my bed with the Kindle to immerse myself in my latest book.  To trudge through things is to miss the point, and not see the vibrancy of life.

Lying about in a partk, savoring a sidewalk breakfast in North Beach, reminiscing with a long time friend, and then doodling in a sketch book at the end of a relaxing day say where I really like to live — but, even in work, I can have that open air and leisure.

Open.  Not thinking it is only all work, work, work and suffering.

To.  There’s a world of experiences ahead of me.  More conversations, travels, and creating.

Possibilities.  I like that I am learning to say no to things I really do not want to do. And I said yes to having a writing group this morning.  This is something that helps me think and be in that open air, out of doors space.

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