Older Drawings: The Evolution of my Style


I completed these pictures either during or after college, can't remember the exact dates and also, am not the sort of person to title or label my works usually. It's a belief of mine that adhering a title to an abstract work forces the viewer to look for something that may or may not be there. I want the viewer to not just look for a meaning but to look at the picture. Works of art don't always need "meanings". They can be meditations and reflections. They can be frozen moments in time. they can be inspired by a song. They can be appreciated as is with all their colors and lines. 


The colors and lines when they DO represent something in these older drawings of mine I know from memory that they would usually represent sounds. Think about the sound of falling rain or the quiet music of snow. Think about sounds that bring you peace. 


More often than not, these very expressive "scribbly" drawings were just me well, scribbling and making sense out of my messy movements using colors and shading. In that regard, a drawing such as this can be seen as a moment frozen in time. Capturing my erratic hand and pencil movements for what it's worth. 

Drawing to the music on a rainy day, capturing the moment for what it's worth 
Lin Aitchison 

the primary colors are good friends of mine 

I know and love them dearly 

look closer 

look closer 

look closer

What do you see in these primeval landscapes?

Is there someone there, someone you've missed, looking back at you?


If you know where to look, lurking around you, within nature, gods and spirits lurk everywhere. Everything is sacred. Nature is sacred, beautiful, and poetic

skyfeathers

They're a reminder from the heavens that someone loves me <3

Collection of Digital Abstract Compositions

Figurative Artistic Botany 

Chameleon Sunrise 

Electric Sunday Composition

Shimmering Gold and Blue Composition

Betwixt the Thickets



Here I am daydreaming about a far off summer day as I gaze at this older digital photocollage I unearthed. Wherever you look, there lives earthly treasures among the rainsoaked leaves.

Garden of Dawn

In the garden of the dawn
light pierces like glassy ice
seeds of promise reborn
fractured skeletons in the earth

cool curtains of air arise 
trees crawling for the sky
rainbows trace the songbird’s flight
Sunbeams grace silver edge
of the misty sleepy pond
hollow reflection of me lies
waiting to be reborn
morning garden is a womb tracing
the husk of a water tomb
Bees hum in flowery grassbeds
amid internal monologue
water dances ablaze with
frenzy of fish and frogs
The sun smiles upon me
as fires pierce the morning clouds
ember footprints tread ice pathways
as churning clouds abound
twisting toiling flowing weaving
inferno unveils
snowy scales and fire tales
of skeletons renewed
There’s these flashes of
existence that float and
blossom in the trees
like dragonflies and sleepy bees
dewdrops dissipate like my dreams
evaporate the mirror me
embers weave flicker
scatter into dusty aether
yet bloom on and on
on and on
in the garden of the dawn

Rainbow Zenith

Striding onwards towards 
the mountains like candleflames

cross wood and curse words
landscape breathe tongues
of violet waves
jewels guide me yet taunt me
over me
the resplendent eye of iris
below me
the craggy body of gaia
craggy snowpeaked corpus
before me
spiraling spires
far above
spinning towards the heavens
celestial rhythm guides me
striding onwards towards the
mountaintop adorned with
jewels of nyx there’s
rain factories overflowing
with streams of morning tears
jewels set the heavens ablaze
as comets eat and tear at
the darkness around me
the landscape sings
aglow with comet tongues
and faceted songs the
darkness succumbs to the fire
striding onwards towards
what i believe i see
cloud cloaked body
those resplendent eyes
before me land around me
the horizon
the windswept mountains
the violet corpus
succumbs to firefields
stretching onwards forever
further i stride
towards the peak
the rainbow zenith
further the mountains leap back
jewels
those resplendent eyes
which see
guide me yet taunt me
all the way