Desene -

I don't plan the drawings. I don't sketch with a purpose or a destination in mind. I simply take a soft pencil—a 4B, whose graphite smudges like a lie—and I let it touch the paper. The first line is always a mistake. Too long. Too curved. But mistakes, in drawings, are not erasures. They are ghosts. They are the history of the hand.

Today, I draw the window. Not the window itself, but the shadow of its frame falling across the empty floor. The shadow has a geometry that the real window lacks: it stretches, it bends at the corner of the wall, it breaks into two tones—one grey, one nearly black. I shade the darker part with the side of the pencil, my fingers turning silver with graphite dust. desene

I stop when the shadow on the paper feels heavier than the real one. That is the secret: a drawing is successful not when it looks like the thing, but when it weighs like the thing. When you could almost lift it off the page. I don't plan the drawings