Spelunking into the Page

Each blank sheet of paper has infinite depth. Sure, the edges limit lateral extension but think about how far inward you can dive through a single sheet of paper. And while you're spelunking into the page, when do you determine that the rope you're drawing has reached its limit? At some point there's an end, right?

I'm in the process of finishing a drawing. I haven't puzzled through this in over a year. I mean, a long term, long puzzled drawing with lots of intricate content. I've pieced the images together and as I finalize their connections, composition, distribution of light and flow, an inevitable end looms indeterminably. Morning after morning, my imagination lowers deeper into the remaining crevices of white. I'm not done exploring, but the blankness fills and there's less to discover. Soon as there's no where else to climb, it's time to dive into a new sheet of paper. And that's how a drawing ends. Next time, draw a longer rope.

F Train, Rush Hour

The headlines to yesterday's newspaper run across three seats, although she occupies only one. Her cheeks are two isolated swathes of bright coral. A pair of swollen feet rest on newspaper padding while printed current events flop complementary to the train. Her bony upper vertebrae curve in a line from the bursting plastic bag at her toes to her pointed nose. Occasionally she peers to looming commuters, huddled in five layers of black jackets, coveting a dust of fine white powder.