The Weaver - Print

downhill-skaters-ii-final-small.jpg
downhill-skaters-ii-final-small.jpg

The Weaver - Print

from 12.00

The weaver weaves the universe from the substance of itself. He stores neurons and nebulas alike in little jars he hangs by moonlight from the branches of his home tree. He's been trapped in the ancient bristlecone pine long before man or other beasts existed, and isn't entirely pleased to see another vine join him in symbiosis. He's here to remind us that we're made of the same materials as the largest stars, and the smallest bacteria. He is blind, as you can see, he can sense so much more than light. It is probably one of the drawings closest to my heart. 


People claim that they can look for hours at my work and still discover new things. I grew up visiting the Museum of Natural History in New York, gazing at the elaborate dioramas with my grandmother, always trying to find a new creature neither of us had spotted yet. And so my art is an extension of this idea - that the world is always full of new things to discover, and even the dullest patches of earth are full of microscopic creatures that look alien to us, tiny crystals and bacteria with whirling, tricky gears of life inside. 

This drawing was originally done with ink, watercolor, and prismacolor marker.
11" x 14" large or 8.5" x 11" small archival quality laser print

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