Yéil

Ravens, coffee, art, process and stories kind of breeze their way around the studio. These days most of the time there isn’t even a studio because the search for whatever takes us out on the road. Raven thinks its amusing that a vehicle is taken off the road and brought into a four cornered room to be rendered. Like we can deconstruct chaos and place its parts on a clinically sterile table and examine it with our fancy techie stuff to learn the mysteries of the universe. Until it blows up in our faces and we wake up from the dream and scribble a few words until it fades again.

While sipping hot coffee checking out the renderings and glancing around the table, it seems that the lens could benefit from a few formlines here and there. Yéil is whispering something, but it is kind of indecipherable. It sounded like “rust” or “dirty clouds” or something like that. A metamorphosis from the pristine to a rusted trash heap maybe? Who knows? All I know is that the traces are like those muffled whispers.

Copyright Larry McNeil January 1, 2018

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