The Sprawl

Please my friend, Nothing happens here ’till after10.We will meet at the Metropole and I will make you a party the proper way.

All my muscles twitched in anticipation but also preemptively in sympathy to how I would feel tomorrow.

They call it the sprawl. People seeking their fortune, power over others, their past, themselves or simply  distraction come here.

Often it doesn’t work out. Either to settle debt or naively thinking they will work way up to  better money and position people become window shadows, living come hither ads.

One grows used to seeing the writing silhouettes but always upon first entering the sprawl and encountering them one looks up, not necessarily a good idea here.

The higher up window shadows had to go further than mere writing & dancing to get attention. In compensation for attitude, entire acts could be witnessed occurring perhaps a floor or two before the rooftops.

Both my cheeks were kissed in the proper way as is only right. He clapped his hands together. Everyone nodded to themselves sensing the expansiveness of the boss’s joy to once again see me and hear me talk.

(Notes & images from the sprawl December 2018 W.Wolfson)





Watercolor and paper 5.5×8

I have always needed to be engaged with what I am drawing/painting. However, it need not be an overly dramatic thing, snapshots from my daily life often do the trick.

This is because most of the joy and excitement for me comes from serving the process. This perhaps is indicative of what is referred to as having “a calling”.

I just found a great fishmonger near new studio. Here is dinner.20181202_114817


Two New Pieces

All set up in new studio. It has been overcast, so I am still getting a feel for the natural light. I was very pleased with both these pieces. The first two in my new studio.

“Two” 7×10 watercolor & cotton paper

“Facial” 9×12 watercolor & multi media paper


Songs About Women:Song Three: Louise

Song Three: Louise:
Did art w/yarn & string while also serving as a sort of girl friday to a historical site/mini museum.

Wore her every emotion on her chest & felt everything w/a great intensity often tinged w/eroticism

While ramped up emotions can have their appeal, non stop becomes exhausting.

All her string art, the colored threads of yarn, I imagine her communing w/the fates. Or perhaps all those strings merely serve to hold her in place.




Honey Child wanted me to touch her face, the lines of her body, memorization as a blind man might.

I took one of the rooms higher up as I felt it safer. The trade off was that unlike some of the better rooms, my one window did not look out into the courtyard.

At night when not actively pursuing anything, the Hyenas walked softly, their paws crunched on the sand as if it were snow.

This did not seem to bother anyone but myself. To my shame, when the  sun was at its most brilliant a pair of little boys would get the disregarded scraps of leather from the cobbler.  They would then almost completely bury them in the sand, leaving them there until the end of the day.

They would then go back and dig up their treasure. Over the course of the day the sand became hotter and hotter. Each grain burnt the leather so that it became dimpled like a more expensive version of itself.

While drinking mint tea these would then be made into wallets to sell to tourists at the medina.

I had my pen and paper to keep me company but sometimes that was not enough. I would play my records but not too much as i worried of some misfortune befalling the player for which i knew I would not be able to get parts easily.

Mostly I played James Johnson, Willie the Lion, Fatha Hines. Their looping frenzy seemed of another world to the locals.  No one ever complained as they were sure that it was part of some incantation similar to that of the men up in the mountains with their rams horn instruments.

“What do you call it?”


To them, the word had a deeper, primal,  meaning and i think it was better.



“Boogie” (1st painting new studio) 5×8 watercolor & paper



new Studio

Just moved studio after six (almost seven) years. During the whole process I could not paint as it was all packed. I did continue to draw.

My first night, even though waiting for few pieces furniture to show up, my long time companion-drawing table is here and ready to be of service. I knocked out few quick sketches using 2 mm lead clutch & usual suspects pencil.

It will be interesting to see what new colorations are added to my palette.


End & Start


Every true artist first works not at becoming famous but rather to create their own distinctive voice. This is a never ending process as even once established, there are things which add to it.

One factor, whether permanent or temporary is location. How does ambient light effect a piece? The actual walls & structure of a place, what one sees out the window and even activities engaged in when not in the studio. (For the most part not anything so literal as “I am in Paris so I am painting the Eiffel Tower”)

I do not think location should be the main factor dictating the timber of a piece. The artist’s voice is first and foremost, with location being akin to one of many spices thrown in the stew that further adds to the flavor.

After six fruitful years I am changing one of my studios. I em excited by all the new possibilities, grateful for all I got out of the old place (and hopeful that the walls can’t talk).

I am eager to get into the swing of things and it will be interesting to see what is added to my work.

(Last painting in old studio “Kristen” 7×10 watercolor & Cotton Paper)