“I cannot bear, nor even hear the voices of men
unless they be in song and sore-amazed at the nearing nearness,
soaring -soaring in awful timbre about the unified flame”
from the Diary of a Tree Standing on Its Head
It has been a long time since I have drawn much with colored pencils- many decades as a matter of fact. But the youngest of my kids love to draw with them and we have been spending time drawing together in the evenings. There are many levels of joy in rediscovering the accessibility and immediacy of colored pencils with my children.



I’m grateful for the freedom that Matt, of Mule Resophonic Guitars gives me when I am working for him. I enjoyed making this.

When drawing becomes a prayer, the image becomes a repository for the questions and thoughts offered to God, which then settle on the page. At first like a fine dust. Then into ridges and furrows. Then into fields and gardens.
I thought I had some language to accompany these developing drawings, but they are dissolving into new perspectives without words.



