Stippling

Tonight I stippled a clementine. Stippling sucks. That said I'd like to add that there is something intensely gratifying about making a drawing of only dots. I chose the clementine because I wanted this to be a 5 minute art project, ha! Is there such a thing, I don't know, but 5 minutes of stippling gets you nothing but acne on your paper. As I was dotting away I started thinking about my child the fundamental Christian, something about the monotonous, repetitive motion allowed my mind to wander. I thought of this child of mine (this child I reared, because at this point in my life, with young adult kids, I feel they are just loaners; kind of like stray cats one adopts, feeds, grooms, gives medical care to, loves, cuddles, and adores - then they run away.) This adult child is so rigid, so clear on what is right and what is wrong. Like stippling my child is trying to fit into a rigid pattern. The monotony of stippling can be soothing and it too can be frustrating. After about 15 minutes I find my clementine is fairly much there, but fairly wane. It needs bolder, stronger blacks. I yearn for a LINE, but no, stippling is dots only. So back in to the drawing I go with my pen, dot, dot, dot. Trying to fit more dots into spaces that seem too small for even a space. I think, "God only, no doughnuts, no psychology, no feel good anything", how can my child be like this. Yeshua and Satan, black and white. He is living a stippled life.