I don’t know. Just what came out when he went to put something in his personal journalish notebook, the one with the fancy hand-tooled leather cover. A marker on the timeline. There’s some blue sky up there, but it doesn’t show up. Prismacolors scan badly; they’re little flecks of color on white, one’s brain puts those flecks together & interprets it as a tone. The camera, or scanner, just sees that there’s more white there than blue & gives one a statistically correct image. Same problem occurs photographing black velvet paintings, except then there’s black surrounding all those tiny specks of color.

It’s a mental image that precipitates out of the artist’s mental impressions when he contemplates the whole process excruciatingly revealing itself before him.

Oh, so it’s like an emoji, right? A diagram of his feelings?

No, it’s not an emoji. Shut up.

Auto-Warmup sketch

It’s a warmup, like doing pushups, just drawing with out thinking about it much, getting the muscle memory of pulling lines out of this stick with a tiny ponytail of soft fur from the scrotum, in winter, of a male Kolinsky Sable, which is a kind of a weasel that lives in Russia, to kick in, & see what comes out just by moving the hand around. It’s all dancing.