Nuno Melo Sousa: on small papers

Nuno Melo Sousa

This text is a part of a series of reflections by Nuno Melo Sousa on his drawing practices. Click here for the series introduction.

Drawings on the working table. Pastel on paper, 210 x 150 mm.

Kept behind the scenes, singing like mantras: voices in low tune. They flourish and are planted like small seeds.
Their synthesis is colourful and schematic.
They are all seeing eyes as they are a body of a constant process of lexicon construction and alphabet discovery.
They do not require a premeditated agenda or ritual—their life resides in motion and instant. Better served fresh.
They are everywhere to be reached. Stacked in large numbers as they are small, handy and fast. These drawings repeat details and circumstances while changing in code and speed: usually, one needs to bleed frustration out of licensing delay, a design dilemma, a water leak, or a proportion stall. Or, as a lightning bolt that falls upon our head and generates a very quick creative enlightenment that needs to be registered.
It can also be drawn, with the sound of waves and sea breeze, with the sun hitting the body, using primary colour markers on the beach. With crayons at school. With pastel at the studio.
And there is always as much joy as angst.
These are chaotic and come as dozens.
As batches of thoughts.
As packaged imagery and feelings.
They are 1995’s Microsoft solitaire cards exploding as the game ends. Cathartic. Erratic.
They play on different octaves and rhythmic sections.
Often in apnea. Not less often with heavy breathing.
Sustain, delay and echo.
Magnetic resonance.
Bones without fat.
Mental schemes.