Lately, a desire to write has been creeping and crawling into me.
I lay down a few sentences, exploring some topic. Then, I begin setting the foundation of an image I want others to see. At first, it is little more than blurred colors, hinting just a few bare shapes. Sketches of thought, left for the reader to fill in, as simple as they can get.
You can see the horizon at this point. It is just a collection of uneven lines, hinting at what isn’t yet defined. I franticly go through what is written and I read it aloud. How does it sound? Is it as voicy as something I’d say? What can be cut, leaving it all the same? I take a thinner brush and revise what has been drawn. A few short bursts of paint and what doesn’t matter is gone.
Details are splattered here and there. What was nothing but an empty container now shows some blurred form. Broad contexts become clear, and from a part you can guess the whole. A cadence, a rhythm appears as I go adding more words. Shapeless still, but so much clear, a distant scene unfolds. Those rigid lines we shared now arc and twist and flow. What you thought something was I clarify and it bends and turns and folds.
An example, an explanation, we come back to some thought. Then, a fast and nimble stroke and I catch your attention. There is something to it, a slight change in direction. I have drawn something concrete — perhaps a bird, a tree, a stone. You might disagree with how it appeared, but still the sense is clear. Maybe, you say, it’s too vague and imprecise. Dot, dot, dot and a few more lines: details, shades and it’s defined.
We go on and on and on and you are not passive anymore: I etch some extra meaning to a canvas that’s now drawn. An eyeful pass no longer serves to catch the image as a whole. Fastly darting, your eyes sweep through it in a far and wide stroll. Off they go, span by span, phrase by phrase, word by word.
And then, the silence breaks slowly streaming the hidden senses of the meaning only told by my clear tone. Your eyes spin. The letters dance. You read the words and understand. What hid before reveals itself as this voice behind your back.
You turn around, I’m almost done. Just a few more subtle strokes.
I put the frame, the rest it yours. What is it that you saw?
Comments are open, let me know.