Continuous movement

 How does my brain look like inside? Maybe my thoughts are rushing like cars on a highway? Maybe they're working like clock mechanism? Gliding like clouds?  Moving like ants? Of one I'm sure- they speed up when I travel. Everything new attacks senses. New views from new windows, new dishes in new places, new smells that will bring new memories, new experiences with new people, new me, but still the same.
 The thing with inspirations is that I put them all into big bag called brain. It's impossible to make order there, put everything to right box and then take it out when needed. It's rather like Gordian knot, everything entangled, connected, stucked. I knever know which inspiration will twinkle from next drawing. 

Old school

 Sometimes I think I was born too late. Many times I'm amazed with precision that things in "good old days" were made. Doesn't it annoys you that you buy a thing and after a year (at most) it's completely useless, broken, destroyed, unfashionable? Contrary to popular opinion, I hate buying shoes. I'd like to buy one pair and wear it for as many years, as possible. You know...I have nothing against China, I'd love to visit it, but why they produce so much shit? Oh, right, I perfectly know why. Becouse we want more, more and more, cheaper, cheaper and cheaper... The biggest challenge nowadays is to be satisfied with a little.

It takes two to tango

 It's hard not to notice that it's Valentine's Day. I like the idea of it, but not what it became. Anyway, it's not the time to blame red and pink baloons, roses, candles, teddy bears, etc. I reviewed my pictures and barely found those added above. I guess it's becouse I got used to draw women and it seems to be easier. Sometimes I look at people in a bus and wonder what are their love stories, becouse I'm sure everyone has at least one. Maybe sad, maybe unfulfilled, maybe perfect, maybe very romantic. I asked my grandmother lately about how she met grandfather...funny thing to hear from old person about one and another, and then another guy that she liked, or them trying to get her attention.  What are your stories?

All that jazz

 Yes... All that jazz!
All sketchbooks, all pencils, all papers and books, all magazines, all dreams, all plans, all exams and competitions, all photographic films, all hours spent in ateliers, workshops, all binders with newspapers clippings, all ideas better and worse, all adventures and trips, all meetings. They are my jazz.

I shared my works and passions with my friends today and that gave me wings, enthusiasm to create more, to create continuosly. And when I think that I could choose forestry... No! Here's the place where I should be for now.

Spring's in the air!

 Windy days here... Good- wind brings changes and maybe it'll bring spring? I feel excitement! New collections, spring cleaning, more colours, more sun, less time to summer...
Browsing journals I made fantastic discover- orange will be the colour for new season, described even as a new red! In head I make short overview of my closet content... Okay, orange skirt (once trousers...), orange scarf...and...that's it? Hopefully there'll be plenty of orange clothes in shops soon, so maybe I'll find something for myself. Dres? Maxi skirt? Uuuu...Now that's what thrills me! :)
  The influence that fashion has nowadays is enormous... We have to wear something. We can become fashion victims, fashion ignoramus...which is also kind of fashion victim, if I think about it... Or we can use fashion in a creative way, simply to make ourselves and our surroundings look better.
 

The same, not the same

 People don't change. People change every day.
 History likes to repeat. Nothing will happen for the second time.

  Each moment is like extraordinary mixture of what was, what will be, plans, dreams, air pressure, weather conditions, historical background, cycle day, insolation. Each sketch is unable to repeat. How valuable it must have been to be in pre-printing press times? Does it have any value today? When you can copy, paste, copy, paste, copy and paste endlessly?

Black wings

 

 Eternal human desire- to fly, to escape, to see things from different perspective, to feel free, to have finally the space we needed. I'm imagining the world where everyone has its own pair of wings. Someone has butterfly's wings, the other bat's, eagle's... Mine are dragonfly's, glistening, transparent, slender, gently reflecting orange. I keep them in old wardrobe at the attic. Sometimes, when I want to be alone, when I need an inspiration, an advice, a time to think, I take them out, climb a ladder, open small attic window and fly...

Signature

 There's nice line in one Polish song: "Sign days with your name". Well, maybe I won't run with sword and cut "Z" everywhere like Zorro, but is there something mine, something that you see and the first association is me? Like great artists- Modligliani, Gaugin, Toulouse-Lautrec or Klimt- you see a painting/drawing and know that it's made by one of them. So signature can be much more than just your name written. Signature contains small bits of you, memories of you in others minds, informations readable for graphologists.