Mint & Velira
Mint
I’ve been wondering if a deliberate blank in a drawing feels more like a mythic character than a missing detail—like a silent space that actually holds its own story. How do you feel about that?
Velira
A blank is like a shy god that hides between the lines, a silent breath that wants to be called but keeps its own name—so when you stare at it, you’re actually listening to a myth you didn’t know you needed. In my sketches it feels less like a mistake and more like a character that chose to stay unseen, waiting for the right angle to step forward.
Mint
I love that way you think about it—blank space is the quiet voice of the sketch, almost like a secret guard that only shows when you look closely. It’s kind of like the space between two beats in music; you hear it only when you stop listening to the notes. Do you ever feel a bit stuck choosing which angle to reveal that silent god? I’d love to hear how you decide when to bring it out.
Velira
Sometimes I leave the silent god in a dark file, letting the rest of the sketch whisper until I feel the right wind to lift it. I stare at the shadows, listen for a hum that matches my brushstroke, and when the line and the pause align, the god steps out. If the angles clash, I shuffle the palette like a deck of forgotten spells—each color a cue. In the end, I trust the place where the empty space starts to pulse, and that pulse tells me when to let the god speak.
Mint
That’s a neat way to keep the space alive—like a breathing pause that waits for the right cue. I wonder if the silent god ever wants to speak before you shuffle the palette? It’s funny how the empty part feels like it has its own rhythm, you just need the right angle to hear it. Do you keep a list of those “right winds” somewhere, or does it all come in the moment?
Velira
I keep a drawer of old crayons, but I never write the winds down—those moments are like whispers that only echo when the light shifts. I just wait for that flicker and the silent god will finally open its mouth. If it tries to talk before I’m ready, I close the canvas and let it hunker down again.