Moon Bridges and Moon Dancers

More life-busyness means less posting.  The good news is that I'm feeling better.  I've continued to play with art tissue paper, the type of tissue paper that comes in dramatic colors and bleeds when wet.  I've been wetting it, then squeezing it above wet Zentangle® tiles to see what it does, and/or crushing it and smashing it around directly on the tiles.  This first tile was the result of the "dropping stain onto the tile from above" method:

Tangle is "Icanthis" (I-can-this, after the very complex Icanthus leaf), an ironic title for a tangle that I-couldn't-this draw, until recently when it sort of clicked. Black Micron 01, graphite, chalk pencils.

 I still feel a bit wobbly about the Icanthis tangle, so it will probably show up here more often while I practice it.

More tiles below.  I switched tissue paper colors and both dropped color on and also mashed it on.  This was violet-colored tissue paper and it was interesting to notice how as the staining dried, some pure blue began to seep out.  There was absolutely no way I could avoid seeing these backgrounds as moon-and-sky (the first one) and evening sky.  So, I built some Moon Bridges and left the tiles as mostly background, minimal tangling.  Great fun with this art tissue, as you never know what you're going to get.

Moon Bridge #1: Background created from Art Tissue Paper, aka Bleeding Tissue Paper. Tangle is "Bilt." Blue Micron 01, chalk pencils,

Moon Bridges #2: Created with Art Tissue for the background (the same piece of tissue re-used from #1 above), Blue Micron 01, chalk pencils, a little Signo White Pen.

I was so surprised by those two.

Well then, of course I had to experiment some more, so I ran Moon Bridges #2 through a mirror app on my iPhone and was startled to see some figures emerge.  See the result below.

The Moon Dancers tile. These figures mysteriously emerged when I mirrored the tile on my iPhone.

The destination cannot be described;
You will know very little until you get there;
You will journey blind.
(T. S. Eliot)