A pen, or at least that's what I make it out to be. I've been saving this one, waiting for an idea to strike. At first, I thought I might write about the Broadus lectures that I attended at the university, where one of my professors, Ted Bishop, spoke about the social life of ink. But then I gave up the idea, because I couldn't think of anything to say that hadn't already been said better by him. So I left the sketch for a while longer.
Today, I'm posting the pen mostly because I'm ready to be on to something new - this will be the last in the series, and I already have some photos lined up that I'm eager to post next. But I wanted to say goodbye to this little notebook first, and a pen seems a fitting finishing note, despite the fact that all the drawings are done in pencil. The pen, as it were, has been my instrument in this collaboration, and the pencil the instrument of the artist child. I don't know if we struck more chord or dischord, but it's been fun having another artistic mind to meet with, even if only on the page. My favourite part of this sketch is the line that trails off to the left - it doesn't come from the pen's nib, but rather from its clip, so it cannot be a line drawn by the pen itself. And yet it somehow suggests its own writing all the same. Reminds me that I should be writing too. Not just final papers, though it is that time of year, but other words, smaller words, that mean more.
