26 March, 2018. So, consider the question “Do you dream in color?” After many years of truly not knowing for certain, I can answer definitively “yes.” Here’s how I know for certain: Two nights ago I dreamed of sketching the upper portion of a building (not this one.) I could vividly see the loosely painted colors of Cadmium Red Light contrasted against Perylene Green. I recall thinking in my dream that the two colors were almost (but not quite) complimentary.
Upon waking Sunday, I told myself I needed to add those two colors to a similar sketch I’d made on Saturday morning in Eureka Springs to better recall the sensation of seeing color in my dream. Having done so, I realized almost immediately that the Perylene Green in my dream was slightly more of an Olive hue. So why is this important? I’ve no idea, really. But I felt there was some imperative and rather than question it I acted upon the imperative. I can still “see” those two hues in my head, so clearly that I am planning to mix a batch of the Perylene up and pollute it with some yellow or ochre just to get that specific color.
Architecturally, Eureka Springs is such an unusual town, with structures built right into the side of steep hills. It’s an interesting hodge podge of styles and it’s impossible – I mean, quite literally impossible – to find a point-of-view where one is looking directly at a building from anything resembling a “normal” perspective. You’re either looking up or down, usually at the same time. I like how I can find myself positioned in this town to see incredibly odd architectural angles.
As a kid we would visit Eureka Springs and I remember listening to my parents bitch about “all the hippies” in the town: long haired cats playing guitars and wearing beads and bell bottoms and blousy shirts, rather unkempt and generally followed by an equally unkempt and long haired little kid (or two). Regardless of how mom and dad felt about the place, to me it was a pretty cool scene.
Now, the town seems overrun with bikers, farmers, red necks, and bible belters – pretty much as different a population as you can imagine from the flower children I recall from my youth. (Although trust me: there are plenty of locals of my age who are remnants of those days.) All the same, it was a genuinely delicious moment to spot a couple of real live hipsters on the street, strolling about. Culture layered upon culture layered upon culture. I love this cool little town!
I intentionally kept my sketches loose and quick. In fact, it took longer to fill in the mass of black above than it did to scribble out all three of the actual sketches, I think. These are each a combination of Uni-Ball and a Fude fountain pen.