but I suspect that you're losing yourself in your drawing style. Or I'm exaggerating?
ohhhhh!!!! in reality Serge????
heh heh heh
well i need talk about this
FIRST
it is impossible to take the control from my hand when drawing… to me.. the classic model of Lisa no is important
and on my old models.. too... I am not artist… never has interested to me….
and I believe that I do not feel vocation to draw….
I create sincerely that most of the forum it knows my motivation on lisa and on the drawing….
SECOND
the control of our minds and our creativity is a process that never finish…. my models have been changing in the time in search of a style that is to me comfortable and that makes me feel happy… it can sound a little hard (also) but is a subject that does not worry to me…
I have all the life to try to perfect my technique :lisa:and the time no is a theme importtant (too)… most important it is to feel the happiness drawing… if you feel that you cannot draw better we will enter a sad status and a period of the dark we must feel happy with our style of art… each one is unique…. to imitate other style or to follow rules strict to obtain something never will obtain nothing…. and they caused drakness and hatred…
THIRD
and please understand me...walk on rules in this life is bad.. no only with the sketch.... with all.... the liberty of the spirit in a treasure .... live with wings to fly is a new destiny.....
... The sketch and the art are Free!
PD:
Thanks to all by the replys
your words are the river of my happiness and your smiles my force
well a small gift . This a a poem of the chilean poet Pablo Neruda... enjoy...
Poem 20 Pablo Neruda
Tonight I Can Write
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
Write, for example, "The night is starry
and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance."
The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.
She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.
To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.
What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is starry and she is not with me.
This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
My sight tries to find her as though to bring her closer.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.
The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.
Another's. She will be another's. As she was before my kisses.
Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.
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