On my work table (in my “studio”) (still working on those “”s), I protect the surface with an old piece of oil cloth (that yellow gingham you can see at the far edge there). And on top of that, I always have some sort of blotter-paper thing going on.

Mostly, it’s there so I can go over the edges of whatever I’m working on without worrying about getting it on the surface of my desk (although it does still spill over there from time to time). But I also use it much the way you might use a desk blotter . . . I jot notes to myself. Or I try out inks or stamps or ideas. I see how my pen is working. Just the random stuff of . . . making things.

             

The other day, I lifted whatever I was working on from the surface of that under-paper layer and was amazed by what I saw. I mean . . . that under-paper (which is just a piece of packing paper from something) was suddenly . . . more than just a piece of blotter. It had the residual from all kinds of ideas and projects and accidents and edges. It revealed my personal color palette – the colors I use and turn to most often in my paintings and projects. I can see various elements of most everything I’ve worked on for the past 3 or 4 months (the length of time that under-paper has been in place).

             

It’s like a little “archeological dig” of my recent art making.
And I kinda love it.

It made me start thinking about . . . life. And all the bits and pieces that layer on to it, creating the who . . . we become. Layer after layer after this and that. Sometimes on purpose. Sometimes by accident. Mostly just trial and error.

Seemingly nothing.
But suddenly . . . everything.
Underneath it all!