Long ago, in another life, I had the opportunity to spend a lot of time sleeping outside. Sometimes I slept under the stars. Other times I got to sleep in a tent. Sometimes a big tent and at other times a small pup tent. Occasionally I would make sketches on scraps of paper that I would keep in my pockets.
What was it about the tents that so attracted me? The infinite patterns created as the canvas folded on itself? The play in the contrast of light and shadows?
But it wasn’t until much, much later that I began to think about what the tent represents:
Shelter. Escape. Warmth. Refuge. Safety. Privacy. Intimacy. Transiency. Portability. Mobility.
Here are some of those tents reinterpreted thirty something years later using a bit of acrylic paint and pen and ink .
What was it about the tents that so attracted me? The infinite patterns created as the canvas folded on itself? The play in the contrast of light and shadows?
But it wasn’t until much, much later that I began to think about what the tent represents:
Shelter. Escape. Warmth. Refuge. Safety. Privacy. Intimacy. Transiency. Portability. Mobility.
Here are some of those tents reinterpreted thirty something years later using a bit of acrylic paint and pen and ink .
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