I enjoyed wintertime, the glittering snow, the intriguing ice and the long cold and I feel very inspired creatively but not inspired at all to write about it.
I'm in lack of words and it feels wrong to tell about the difficulties the cold does to my hands and which kept me away from working with clay, and yet I love all the bright white crystalline wintriness. I'm fascinated by the colourlessness of the past weeks, the muffled sounds and the loud cracks caused by tension and pressure in the ice.
I made some drawings (Not the best idea when your hands hurt, but I couldn't help it.) of repeating but varying shapes. They might look simple but they are arduous exercises in drawing lines. To me they are more than sketches, they are this winter's creative representation.