5th Avenue in Manhattan in ink and Kuretake pens.
I named it Green Night because of unreal yellow-green light which lit up this corner of the small Brooklyn street. Adorable street signs, balding trees. I, probably, project my own feelings, as usual, after reading about Ingeborg Bachmann and her in the book by Max Frisch “Gantenbein”, the book, which I bought for my daughter not so long ago and loved in my youth, never knew that he wrote about Ingeborg Bachmann and their complicated love story. And I got sad reading about her in her forties burning to death alone in her Rome apartment, leaving unfinished books…
Anyway, about drawing, I scraped some lines on beautiful expensive paper with broken syringe, then drew with ink and couple of Kuretake brush pens.
Marcel Proust. One of my favorite writers, whose books I brought with me (not all 7 books, because in my time it was not possible to find them all, not translated), so some I got here, in English. I had one sentence of his, I copied from the book, hanging on the wall of my studio for years, thinking, it is so perfect for painting, it is painting in words, one day I will paint it. About morning in the mountains, red highlights on the horses backs and gold on the helmets, and fog, and hope, long sentence, like most of his. Unfortunately I don’t know French, to read it in original, to be able to understand and enjoy fully. Twenty something years later I still didn’t paint it.
I used ink for this drawing. And it has a faint shimmer in some spots, which scanner didn’t pick up.
“Story Farm” in Catskills, Upstate, in ink and Kuretake on vintage paper. My favorite place for fresh produce.