At some point in my career as an in-the-margins doodler, I fell into hair. Those of us in the anxious camp find ways to self-medicate, and repetitive pattern-making has come to my rescue many a time. Perhaps in my avoidance to figure out faces and bodies or perhaps in an effort to translate my love of linocut to a more portable medium, I started to find looping manes and striped mops on every page.
My older brother Joe had golden curls.* A halo that earned him what felt to me then like endless opportunities. Magician's assistant. Free sample recipient. My corn silk bowl cut didn't stand a chance.
*They have since mellowed a bit in both color and shape.
Maybe this is relevant? Perhaps it plays a part in this friendly hair-obsession of mine? Probably not.
In any case, here's to hair! Wild and weird. Expect more.