I parked so tight (rushing to the doc), half inch on each side, I didn’t know I can do it. If I wont enjoy so much being a woman, I definitely wanna be a man! So I start sketching, hoping someone in front or back of my car will move out and free me. Didn’t happen. But sketch was done. Ink in pocket Molly.
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2009Dec 26tags: ink | pocket moleskine | sketch
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2009Nov 29tags: ink | pocket moleskineMy dream. If I draw my bad dream its leaving me. They holding ground beef. May be its their hearts. The whole shape is resembling heart. I feel terribly connected. Ink in pocket moleskine.
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tags: ink2009Nov 23
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2009Nov 22tags: ink | pocket MollyWaiting. I told my daughter, that I am the only person in the world who wont mind to wait for her to come down to the car for so long as it took her. She laughed. I sketched.
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tags: A5 (wrong size) | ink | WC Molly2009Nov 19
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2009Nov 18tags: ink | sepiaThis what happen when you sit in the office waiting and getting bored. You start talking to your own reflection. School-G pen, pocket Moleskine.
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2009Nov 16tags: A5 | Bijou box | lake | watercolorI went today at the Colgate Lake and sketched the view, and I didn’t notice till the end of my work, that I took two spots on the handicapped parking, because for the better view I parked across it. Nobody said a word to me, people with dogs, kayak, in purple hat, fisherman. They struggled on the road sides. Piglet barked meanly from the back seat. Anyway it was not legal to park anywhere. So this why the watercolor is shameless.
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2009Nov 13tags: pencil | sketchDriving. I wanted to show mood, when all you see is couple of red lights you follow. It is road 87. And you dreaming that when you’ll come home you’ll have a glass of wine and put logs in the wood stove.
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2009Nov 12tags: ink | pocket Molly | sketch84 street in Brooklyn. I like to draw cars, houses, people to stop the moment and appreciate. Sepia ink (School-G pen) and pocket Moleskine.
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2009Nov 11tags: End of the line | November09 | Theme ChallengeThe end of the line. Here is translation (with help of Translator-program) of the poem I wrote as a teen:
And by girl to run at the park,
Rolling the hoop between white statues,
To yet not know sullen Parcae,
Not to perceive itself with cursed.
I hope it understandable that its about faith, end, being blind to reality. And 3 statues kinda like Parcaes(roman) holding the tread of life.























