A rainy Sunday afternoon in the vintage mall.

Of all the different approaches to sketching, this is my favorite. Starting without any pencil or guiding marks, ignoring the hues, not choosing a focal point. It's more a meditation on contour and assemblage. The notion of "a mistake"- whether in perspective or proportion, omission or placement- becomes moot. A clutter of things I don't recognize and can't name allows me to see not "the thing," but rather "this bend meeting that point, and this line almost parallels that one." I don't stop until I can't see anything else to draw and then I'm sort of bummed to be finished- surprised that so little, or so much, time has passed.