After I posted it, I started thinking about ways I could express it on paper, as a sketch, with my limited skills (another attempt to integrate my travels, to bring them into my life here, at home). Trying to catch the beautifully messy ordering of this array of random bricks seemed to ask for more precision than I can master, but I started wondering if I could be more abstract, give myself permission just to play, maybe try blowing up one small section. I wasn't sure, and so I stalled for a few days.
Finally, I attempted a tentative rendering, in pencil, of a small central section of the photo. If you enlarge the photo below and peer carefully, you can see those faint pencil lines. I thought I'd made a good start, but I wasn't sure I had the heart to keep adding careful little brick after careful little brick, so I left the sketchbook open on our dining table for most of another week, scooting it out of the way when we wanted to eat there. . . .
And then yesterday afternoon -- perhaps because I'd had such success with my bread that morning (see my IG photos; I'll share recipe and process here soon), so that I was okay risking sketch failure -- I began playing. First, I got out my watercolours, all the tubes plus the little travel box/palette of solid pans, and started trying to mix colours. Might be time for me to take another class, but I think I learned a thing or two just puddling colours together on a white saucer at that table.
As I was mucking the colours together, I loosened up about my goals -- the sketchbook is thick, has huge pages (11"x14"), and I've barely tiptoed into it. I started thinking perhaps I could try a week or two of different responses to that photo. And maybe I'll share some with you along the way, or maybe I won't, and maybe I'll abandon the whole idea as one commitment too many.
But for twenty or thirty minutes yesterday afternoon, I let myself play. And it was glorious. . . .