204. What else is there?

back to regular programming.

Dear reader,

I have previously spoken about my inability to take a break. But now it is over, whatever it was. And we are here, whatever this is, not quite summer and not yet autumn.

When I was a little child, I wanted to hold time in my hands and stretch it. Stretch it so that each moment would be drawn out for however long I wished. Now summer is over. For a little while - maybe a day, maybe two - it felt like it would last forever. Just for a moment, it was infinite. No more.

In today’s post, words from Catch-22 by Joseph Heller, and some attempts this summer to hold time in my hands and stretch it.

The SneakyArt Post is a publication of secretly drawn art and the best ideas from my journey of self-education as an artist and writer.

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Note: What you need to know about Dunbar and Clevinger is that they could die any day. They were on a US Air Force base in Pianosa, somewhere in Italy, in the middle of World War II. Catch-22 is easily in my top five book recommendations. Read it, read it, read it.

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Spotted, outside the food market.

Dunbar loved shooting skeet because he hated every minute of it and the time passed so slowly. He had figured out that a single hour on the skeet-shooting range with people like Havermeyer and Appleby could be worth as much as eleven-times-seventeen years.

“I think you’re crazy,” was the way Clevinger had responded to Dunbar’s discovery.

Spotted, on Kitsilano Beach.

“Who wants to know?” Dunbar answered.

“I mean it,” Clevinger insisted.

“Who cares?” Dunbar answered.

“I really do. I’ll even go as far as to concede that life seems longer i—“

“—is longer—“

“—is longer—IS longer? All right, is longer if it’s filled with periods of boredom and discomfort, b—“

“Guess how fast?” Dunbar said suddenly.

“Huh?”

“They go,” Dunbar explained.

“Who?”

“Years.”

Spotted, waiting outside Starbucks.

“Years?”

“Years,” said Dunbar. “Years, years, years.”

“Do you know how long a year takes when it’s going away?” Dunbar asked Clevinger. “This long.” He snapped his fingers. “A second ago you were stepping into college with your lungs full of fresh air. Today you’re an old man.”

“Old?” asked Clevinger with surprise. “What are you talking about?”

“Old.”

“I’m not old.”

“You’re inches away from death every time you go on a mission. How much older can you be at your age? A half minute before that you were stepping into high school, and an unhooked brassiere was as close as you ever hoped to get to Paradise. Only a fifth of a second before that you were a small kid with a ten-week summer vacation that lasted a hundred thousand years and still ended too soon. Zip! They go rocketing by so fast. How the hell else are you ever going to slow time down?” Dunbar was almost angry when he finished.

“Well, maybe it is true,” Clevinger conceded unwillingly in a subdued tone. “Maybe a long life does have to be filled with many unpleasant conditions if it’s to seem long. But in that event, who wants one?”

“I do,” Dunbar told him.

“Why?” Clevinger asked.

“What else is there?”

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👋🏼 If you are new to Sneaky Art, read this recent post where I re-introduce myself and my work.

✒️ Why I use a fountain pen for both writing and drawing [read]

💌 This month, I made drawings for SneakyArt Insiders.

🎙 In Ep 66 of the SneakyArt Podcast, I spoke with London-based Jeff Schmidt about how he found himself in a hospital ward during early Covid with nothing but a sketchbook for company.

✈️ I just returned from a short trip to New York.

🎯 Some good advice: Never Look at the Numbers.

🖼️ Prints! Put SneakyArt on your wall.

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I am sending tiny drawings to the SneakyArt Insiders who wrote tiny stories in these threads.

The first tiny packages going in the mail.

Get free drawings, discounts on every sale, front-row seats, and a backstage pass to all things Sneaky Art.

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Thank you, dear reader, for your time and attention. I am glad to have a space in your inbox.