I feel like I ought to have some snappy commentary to accompany this, but the heat wave has my brain working sluggishly, and my first cup of strong coffee hasn't kicked in yet. Yesterday, my daughter Noble graduated from the Moore College of Art & Design's Summer Art & Design Institute, earning the first three of what I hope will be a BFA worth of college credits. She and her twin sister, just back from two years in Mexico, a Mexican schoolmate, and my son spent a couple of hours after the reception poking about on Chestnut and Walnut Streets in center city Philadelphia, giving me time to sweat over my sketchbook for two short segments between ducking into air conditioned coffee shops for iced tea and relief from the heat.
It occurred to me last night, as I questioned the value of these sketchbook posts, what it is that I'm trying to share. Ever since early adolescence, I have loved looking at artists' study drawings. I like the feeling of having an intimate peek at work and thinking in progress. The redrawn lines, the multiple images trying to capture a form or gesture or mood, the energy. I like that better than finished works, which often feel staged and static to me. So I hope that these posts help satisfy a similar craving in you. If I were cynical I'd call it voyeurism. But I'm not. I think we just naturally like to be connected in some way to any act of creation. I think that desire is at the core of what we are.