March 16, 2007
I hate my house. We still don't have power. Drinking warm water, not being able to charge my ipod or phone, spending each night laying naked on top of the sheets trying to think cold thoughts in a breezeless room, trying in vain to read by a single candle...makes a girl wanna sorta shoot herself. Or more specifically shoot the guys next door whose incompetence casued this. Hmph.
Suitably, this first drawing is of my escape...the Irish Pub two blocks away. Where one of the waiters automatically brings me a pint of Club whenever I have a seat in my usual booth in the corner....ahhh, it's nice being a regualar somewhere again. When I finished the drawing I showed it to the two chaps sitting at the bar there who were my "models" (turned out they were pilots from South Africa bothe named Peter) and we actually ended up chatting the rest of the evening...
This week I started working with a woman down the street who is a batik artist, which I've been looking forward to since I arrived here. So this water painting here was definitely a result of watching the fabrics being waxed and dyed all day. Fun, fun...
This next image grew out of a line from the book I just finished called Veronika Decides to Die by Paulo Coelho. (Which was a lovely gift from the lovely Diana!) This little fragment of a sentance just floated in my head all week, seeming like somthing I'd see hastily scribbled on a wall somewhere. In fact, I had the strong urge to go and and scribble it on some building. But Ghanaian prison doesn't sound like fun, so this drawing let me get it out of my system. I tried to make it look like one of the un-erasable chalkboards they have in the local classrooms here.
You know that nagging feeling when you go on a trip and you think you forgot something at home? Well, I think I forgot my silly. Or maybe I'm just losing my silly. Either way, here in Ghana I've decided I've been far too serious all the time. I can't wait to be a goofy American again...
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