I am barely responsible for the outcome of my sketches. Like the one above.
Put a pencil in my hand, and it moves around on paper like it’s a Ouija board. My first lines suggest roundness. Always roundness. I never know what will come after that.
As this sketch took shape, I imagined similar drawings, but larger and finished. Before rendering more and making them bigger, I needed to address this concern: Did I accidentally sketch an abstract … male … sexual … organ? I didn’t want everyone saying, “Lori’s drawing penises now.”
So I conducted a small survey and asked each person, “Does this remind you of anything?”
Several intestines, a couple of earth worms and a single penis. Those were results I could live with. A variety of organisms with just a pinch of sex. I like that balance.
To me, the sketches above and below are about two things. First, my love of lines, especially for defining form. Lines that aren’t straight, that vary in weight, laid crazy fast or (less often) with deliberation, sardine close or casually separate, and all coming together to look like something.
Second, these sketches signal a nearby malfunctioning printer. Since I started these on my iPad, as I do so many sketches and doodles, printing is always a possibility. But lately my HP refuses to draw from the color receptacles. While frustrating at first, I am now enjoying this B/W phase of my work.