Over the long Australian summer I took free sketching classes. I also rifled through water colours and doodles I'd played with as a teen and neglected to throw away. Together they show how I have and have not changed. As ever, I am entranced by patterns and colour, but now I'm also attempting lunch sketches of the city, 20 second sketches, and single line drawings of art on display in the National Gallery of Victoria in Melbourne. I don't care about good any more. I care that art, for me, now, can be a verb.
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