Evening Will Come: A Monthly Journal of Poetics (Issue 34, October 2013—Visual Arts by Poets Issue)

Max Winter
Who Spoke?

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I do not understand these drawings, but I did enjoy making them.

It was a relief to deal, finally, with images in their purest form, after dealing with them somewhat more obliquely in poems.

I could say lots of things about how the thickness of a line in a drawing could be connected back to the intended force of the statement, but.

They often grew out of intense emotional states, light as they might seem.

I did them in various locations: subways, coffee shops, bars, my cubicle at work, my desk at home beneath a blaring white light, a bus in Lithuania going to an outdoor sculpture park, at a restaurant overlooking the Hudson River and the boats.

I liked the process: the initial image in a little Moleskine notebook, then the enlargement in a sketch pad in pencil, then the inking over, then the erasing, and then the scanning.

They’re awkward, and as I saw their awkwardness happening, I did nothing to stop it, I watched it like I might watch leaves burn in a yard.

I enjoy being funny, and I enjoy being visual, and I enjoy being both, if that is in fact what I was, here.

Image Equals Mind.