Posted by: normanlgreen | September 18, 2011

Dream, September 18, 2011 drawing repair

Home, 3:15 am

I live and possibly work in an old 4 story hotel in a run-down city. Clearing away some rubbish, I find an old drawing on a heavy piece of paper of foolscap dimensions. Someone has drawn the full length portrait of a dead fisherman taken from the sea. In blue pencil, the view shows him from above as his body has been laid out on a large table. The artist took a great deal of time to capture the textures and folds of the cloth of his working clothes. His face looks drawn down in gravity, but there is a kind of peace in his expression – he need not struggle any longer.

The paper has been dried after having gotten soaked — sea water or rain water or a spill of some kind – and is warped in waves. The paper is so thick that it hold this shape when held by one edge and makes the sound of parchment being unrolled as it is handled. The blue pencil lines are faded and though I have no skill, I take it on myself to darken them. I have a pencil of nearly the right color and begin practicing on some of the simple short lines. I learn that it is easier to trace the longer swooping lines and by the end of the job, have made considerable improvement, both to myself and to the drawing. The last line has the exact curvature of the butt end of my stolen Big Baby Taylor guitar. I think, I know that shape.

All of this takes place on the roof of the hotel, flat except for the superstructure where the stairwell gives roof access. I see other flat city rooftops around my building, but never look down into the streets to see people. I look at the repaired/retraced drawing, blue on ivory and wonder if I have improved or destroyed the document.

I wonder at who would draw a dead man in the time it took to bring his body back to shore. And I think that I need some clothes to be found dead in, fabrics with good textures so that someone will have an interesting time capturing my image in repose.



  1. Great scene, but I did laugh when you wondered what to wear for when you’re found dead. That’s such a typically human response, isn’t it?

    • we must provide a challenge to the corpse-quick-sketch artists. thanks for look in.
      nlg iws

  2. I am dreaming vicariously through your journal! Ever since my cancer treatments I have stopped remembering my dreams. I miss it:(.
    –sherri jo

    • That is quite a compliment, Sherri Jo. When my dreams hide from me, I make a specific request to remember one, along with the promise that I wll give it the attention it deserves.
      take care, norman

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