So, a few of you have been watching my daily doodle post on Facebook. It has been fascinating to read your comments — to hear expectations about what was yet to come, for instance, when I’d not overtly promised anything. I drew the first image of a few flowers drawn with a single color and simple lines around some digital water-color dots and posted it with no intent to draw anything more or post anything more related to that one. But then I did draw more. Once the second post hit, the expectations started.
This morning I posted FRIDAY, doodle #5 and people have been kind with affirmative words. One friend posted her own doodle and tagged me (I loved both the doodle and that she tagged me). That prompted me to invite others to doodle and share. It has been a fun, simple week-long deal.
You should now, however, that the drawing didn’t end with #5. By the time I was finishing the image posted on Facebook today and to the left in this blog, I’d started to wonder what else might be in this drawing if I just keep doodling it. The relationship between plan and surprise when I doodle is ebb and flow-like.
My first drawing rabbit trail had me wash over the drawing with black watercolor, hiding the image. I did a few layers and watched as the brilliance faded and the clarity smudged into something much less. I was reminded of the bold promise-filled declaration in Paul’s letter to the church in Corinth. The wording I recalled was (I found out later) the wording from the King James Version: “For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.” (1 Corinthians 13:12)
As I reflected on the images I screen captured and the process, I realized that if I had the first-washed-over image and not the original in view, I could be convinced that it was brilliant and clear. I also realized that the final image (before I added the graffiti all over it) had a kind of beauty that spoke both of the tragedy of being visually separated by darkness from the beauty of brilliant color and the hope of seeing through the darkness to what must be more.
One last image with this set came later. I went back to the dark image (pre-graffiti) and wondered what someone might do if they wanted to restore the “sight” or image of the flowers on their own — not dealing with the real issue of the darkness. I was please that what I doodled at this point was not actually awful to look at, even though it is clearly NOT the “real” image. Counterfeits are not apparently awful or wholly unsatisfying, even though they fall short of the real and are, ultimately, unfulfilling.