When I began this drawing, the pen tripped as it was entering the paper from the table surface (see the lower left beginning stroke), but I recovered control, completing the drawing. I entered it into the 10th Annual Cambridge Art Association's Prize Show. The juror was the Director of Harvard Art Museums. I was delivering a heavy sectional living room set in a loud truck when I received the call from Kathryn Schultz, annoucing that I was selected for the Outstanding Drawing Prize. "New England opens her arms to you," she said. Having this drawing style developed in the School of Hard Knocks setting of the factory receive such an honor from the director of one of the premiere drawing museums in the nation, made my pen weep. When I got to Harvard Square for the pre-ceremony party, I was alerted by staff that my drawing, already hung in University Place Gallery, had slipped off the matboard. Apparently, the frame shop didn't secure the drawing to the mat too well. I quickly pulled the framed drawing from the gallery wall and cut open the back. I think I used chewing gum or something as a quick fix to re-adhere the drawing to the matboard shortly before the award ceremony.  From the first stroke to the work's hanging, this drawing was problematic, but in the end it, it triumphed.  

The tension built up to the left is discharged to the right...with intensity. The connection is induced like the way the shape of a circle can be completed in the mind, if enough of its shape is delineated.

This drawing was created in response to a rejection notification. There was an International show that offered a chance for an artist to have lunch with a curator as the grand prize. I was really wanting to get a chance to have the opportunity to sit down with a curator. I had even created a painting "Lunch with a Curator," depicting in a dreamlike scenario such a happening. It was sort of like a self-fulfilling prophecy piece, but was more like a set up for disappointment as I didn't even get juried into the show. I donated the work to the institution hosting the show for their annual fundraiser.

I entered this drawing into the 2008 Madison National Show, juried by Sylvie Fortin, former Editor-in-Chief of ART PAPERS, and Artistic Director of La Biennale de Montreal. 

When I received the post cards promoting the show, I noticed a fragment of my entry in one of the three loops on the cover of the post card. I realized that the loops showcased the three top winners, and I was one of them. When one gallery door closes, another opens. 

I admire sports figures that strive to reach the ball, even if it eludes their grasp. I was inspired lately by tennis players of the 1980's and '90's. One in particular, would leap horizontally, hit the ball, and roll out and up to hit the opponent's return for a point. His clothing would be marred with red clay blended with sweat. 

I see paper as an arena. I'm leaping here and there on a limited field, relying on precision and timing, while striving for grace and form in my strokes. As in sports, where years of practice hone a split-second action (like striking a ball), I have developed my "chops."  This drawing is #5 in a drawing session that was 18 drawings long. Only 5 drawings made the grade, the rest were trashed. Things like mechanical errors - faulty pens (inconsistant ink flow), sweat dropping on the paper, a bird stuck in the garage releasing purple droppings, and blood from a freshly swatted knat (the garage is a knat haven as it floods) can contribute to a drawing casualty. Before I knew better, I'd leave freshly drawn drawings laying out in the furniture store I worked. I didn't do that anymore after children drew faces on the works.  

When drawing my Pen Katas, I am performing a session. The session duration, number of drawings, etc., varies. In the session dated 9-20-15, I had only 4 sheets of paper left. The first in the series became my best, and the other 3 drawings were trashed. The diagram outlining this info as well as the numbered steps of the kata are part of the drawing, and is notated after drawn. I circled the good one, and put an x below the ones that failed. A dot ends the series. Steps 3 and 4 were in error and have been switched on the original drawing. Some of the pen marks went stealth (ink didn't flow) - I do inadvertingly put pen technology to a demanding test. It was a beautiful day and sunlight was still bright after 4pm., so I shot this photo outside, after waiting for that opportunity between the wind flapping the rips (especially the dangling one at lower left). Of special note is the release corrugation to the right that removed part of the pre-scored outer area of the near-center loop.   

Photographing these fragile works is no easy chore. I would hardly trust the unframed works to another's hands. I did, however, find one photographer I trusted, named Bob. I'd transport the works in the back of my 1990's Ford Explorer to Bob's rented storage unit. He always had his dog nearby in his studio, which worried me a bit, but the dog never messed with my work. Bob got used to handling my drawings and developed a certain taste for the ripped drawings. He had requested one several years ago. But, I had put the pen down for some time, and dedicated myself to the day job. Just recently, as I was starting to resurrect my art, I called Bob. There was no answer. I soon discovered that he had died months back. Well, here's to you Bob. It was seeing your Nikon photographs of my work that influenced my later drawings and helped guide me to capture similar dramatic photos even with my cheapo camera. Thank you.