Stories from my Sketchbook . . .
Have you ever had a go at one of those inkblot tests? You know—when you stare at an inkblot and then have to describe what you see within in it . . . a bat . . . or two people kissing . . . or monsters devouring the earth? After this week I really hope I am never in a position where I have to do one of these tests for any medical or psychological reason because I am pretty sure I would fail dismally . . .
One of my homework assignments for my ‘Imagining’ course this week was working with ink-blots. ‘Oh what fun’—you might think. ‘Simple’—you might think. Splash a bit of ink on your page, blow it around a bit and then use your imagination to create some fantastic image. Sigh.
Well, I now have pages and pages of ink blots (as well as ink spray up the kitchen walls, across the sink and even on the floor—a can of compressed air rather than a straw for the ‘blowing’ seemed such a good idea at the time) but, alas, not much else to show you. My fellow classmates produced some of the most elaborate, astounding, fanciful (and one or two slightly disturbing) images I have ever seen. Me? Mostly all I saw was inkblots.
This using-your-imagination lark makes my head ache . . .