A day in the life of Ethan

The day he died, specifically.

Man, I just realized I've never really drawn Ethan happy. Now I feel bad. I'll have to work on that.

Dialogue

At 5am and with a broken internet connection, I had a moment of stubbornness, mixing boredom with exhaustion. Refusal to sleep, but too unfocused to read. So instead I picked up a pencil. Admittedly, it made for some lovely lines.


I really missed drawing, it was like reuniting with a friend. Natural smiles and comfortable conversation. The pencil was friendly and boldly declared decisions it was confident in, soft spoken in places it wasn't. And even then, it could retrace those unsure places once it had more information.

It felt more like pulling out lines that were already there, they just hadn't been readily visible yet.

But there still has to be some restraint. If all the possible lines in the world were drawn at once, it would be like living in a enormous tangle of knots. All visual noise and no discipline. But if there were no lines at all, the resulting void would be a terrible, silent bore.

In the end, lines and space are best kept in constant contrast.

Although I must admit to enjoying high tension between the two. Only existence and absence have had a longer rivalry.