blistered rattling bones

I'm taking a class called visual journalism, and every tuesday we go out into Baltimore and sketch. 

Here are some of those sketches:

ghost images, blurring, subtlety, elusive writing, fragmented words.

seeking in vain to capture moments of life -

pure, unnerving beauty.

reconciling urges of intuitive drawing with analytical drawing.

memory and transparency

bleeding images

come awake, spirit

first semester sophomore sketchbook update

why is it that I hate to love what is popular? why is it that I become jealous so easily despite my efforts to stifle those feelings of inadequacy, of total insecurity?

I really want you to sigh

never in tune,

just sigh