Meditations
My Point
I wake, stretching for my point
Who pulls me to the vertical.
I wash, dress, and tie my laces.
Point chooses colour of the day,
And we leave on an amble
Seeking on the grounds
a form to rejoice.
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These drawings are of a single line extended across the paper.
Creating these images takes the space of a walking meditation. The line and I enter into the space and amble about without crossing over ourselves. We may approach our previous path, touch it, but not cross over (except perhaps on rare occasions).
The pen yoking the point with me records the period of meditation. The record of meditation is an image that the reader can engage. The shifting static of line and value provokes associations and meanings.