1. Familiar Sensations,
I sit at my desk, a pencil in hand, an image in mind. I think Skyscrapers, i can almost see the glint of sunlight on their metalic finish, the faces of buisnessmen in the endless amount of windows. The mild wind, the rush of bodies on the cobbled streets. They all have their own stories, their past and future destinations. Many carry luggage, all of which seeming to disappear into a large hotel. A hotel which I add the compleating detail, the name. Ansonia hotel and apartment blocks. I am Ansonia, and this building is the reason that I am able to draw this picture. The reason that I live. It is where my story starts, with an abitious young artist, and a lost traveller. My mother and father.
Me and my twin brother, Ronan, both feel a connection to the art of sketching. With my mother being an illustator for an advertisement company, and my father, a photographer for the local newspaper, it is our instinct to want to create the unimaginable. The perfect, the compelling. Its in our genes. I sit back in my chair, relaxing. I only had to add the finishing touch. The one that I add to all of my pictures. Me. I carefully sketch the wavey ebony locks, the back of my head, as I am facing towards the hotel, staring upwards and wondering. I draw my hoodie, adding extra detail to where my shoulders meet my kneck, where my elbows meet just above my hips. After printing my camouflaged trousers, my heavy black knee-high boots where they are tucked, I dart my eyes across the page admiring my work. I shade myself gently adding futhur detail where it is needed. I close my eyes, my heartbeating to the rythem of my swift hand motions. A collausel of cool air encasing me, taking me in its grasp. Taking me away to the timeless world of my imagination.