I'm writing this week's Friday Coffee Hour almost a week in advance. My mind is busy playing with the future; making plans, wondering what the week will be like. I probably won't be around until much later to read any comments you've left. Hopefully, I will be back to read everything.
Hop over the orange-flavored mortal coil for a few thoughts won't you? Or just skip my fluff and guff and go straight to the comments section and be sociable; share your day, let off a primal scream, pop open a brewski, divulge tonight's menu, relax ...
Lately I've been thinking about what I'd leave behind if I died suddenly. How much of the junk I've collected over the years would be worth anything to anybody else but me?
My great grandmother was supposedly fond of saying, "They don't put pockets in shrouds."
I was looking for some specific drawings the other day. I've drawn lots of things over the years and I have boxes and drawers and stacks of pressed wood pulp-- piles and piles of paper containing decades of drawings.
I think about how the least little doodle by someone like Picasso can be auctioned off for thousands of dollars as I pour over the thousands of advertising storyboard frames I've drawn.
What would anyone do with all these quick and dirty little illustrations? Pictures of berries falling into cups of yoghurt, packs of cigarettes, mobile phones, sharks, bags of potato chips, instant soups, gas stations, salads, monkeys, chocolate bars, bottles of beer, parrots, cars, babies, airplanes, banks, nuns, boats, soccer players ...
I kinda get the feeling some days that I've drawn just about everything there is.
Imagine a future where I was a famous artist and Sotheby's of London is headlining my drawings of soft-drink vending machines in extreme close-up ...
The final bid on a mixed-media drawing of a chubby Batman with only his mask on breaks all previous records for the venerable auction house.
Sigh-- I'm imagining a future trip to the recycling bin.