Sunday, December 23, 2012

Bowl of soup.

Here is a story about bowl of soup, given to me by one woman, who I find very interesting and would like to keep friendship with, who seems so knowledgeable and deep, I hope not to loose her in my hermit style of life, but know too well that nothing could keep me away from drawing.
It is also a story about a fight between me and paper, strange, smooth, cheap, glossy, useless paper, which I ripped and burn and salted, to make it work for me. Ink and Kuretake change their colors, sunk in it, become unrecognizable and I am not sure that I was right to insist on using it, it would, probably, look richer on watercolor paper.
I like to draw simple things like bread and soup, tea kettle, because this objects carrying warmth and peace, same for everyone, it is about people without depicting people.
Here is the room I did for that woman.
Soft glazing with touch of metallic and small brunches with leaves. It is shimmering.


CrimsonLeaves said...

I'm rather a hermit myself. Would prefer to just stay home all of the time. Lovely painting and beautiful walls in your friend's home.

looseart said...

I love both, the room and the drawing!!! You did a wonderful job!!

Katherine Thomas said...

You are very humble about your work... those simple subjects you depict speak VOLUMES about life and human nature and who we are and what makes us happy... Your work is brilliant and conveys such emotion. I'd like to see how you go about creating one of your pieces. I really love the one with the birds too! Wow!

Nikira said...

Thank you very much, CrimsonLeaves, I so agree with you, home is the best place on Earth. :-)

Nikira said...

Thank you very much, Looseart, I finished all the good paper , have to go to the City for another bunch and it is not happening, so I am trying to use my old leftovers, feel bad to throw it out. I am planning to move soon, so want to take only good stuff with me. :-)

Nikira said...

Thank you very much, Katherine, you are very kind to me. I am trying to get all I can from life, because know too well that we all temporary and if we won't say or do something today we will never do it.
And whatever touches my heart burning till I am trying to bring it to paper, than I can deal with that, this how drawings happen.
I love Marcel Proust very much and the way he writes, his memories brighter and deeper than reality, he relives his life many times and in many different ways. Same for drawings. :-)