Linus is my bete noire, my enfant terrible, the one I can never hide from. It starts with the eyes, it always starts with the eyes, from the moment the pencil touches down and starts making that hypnotic like spiral, drawing me in, with the awkwardness of ‘The Boy that Looked Like a Balloon’ to the fear of ‘Baby I’m Falling’. What began as an unconscious act, not only became the deconstruction of drawing, but the deconstruction of the self.
But even within the madness, there are rules, the pencil can never lift off the paper, and the image can never be premeditated or consciously drawn.
If you have ever been caught unaware by your own anger, frustration or pain.
If you have ever without thought, rhyme, or reason, screamed out, lashed out, cried out or just needed to reach out.
Been called insane, thought yourself insane, then stop.
It is the importance of understanding what makes us whole, because sometimes, we break.
This is you, this is us, this is Linus.