Saturday sketchbook

Adam Davidson, sandblasted Rhodesian with bamboo shank, 8B Mars Lumograph graphite pencil

It was my intention to be up and driving in the dark to arrive at the Hershey car show by 6AM today, but I almost didn't go. Awake and restless at 3:30, I found myself drained of the ardor I'd felt  to return to do more drawings of the 1939 Lincoln Continental Zephyr prototype that had so captivated me just two days ago. I didn't even get out of bed until two hours later than usual, and when I did, I still felt uninspired. But after coaxing myself into doing a little pipe drawing at my studio worktable, I finally got myself together around lunchtime and went on up. I knew I'd regret it if I didn't.

I've never arrived at the Hershey show so late in the day. I'm usually eager to stride rapidly up and down as many rows of cars, booths of obsolete parts and literature, tools, and eccentric junk as my greedy eyes can take in. But today, I had only one destination. I was there solely to park myself in the cool grass next to that dessicated old Lincoln and to try to capture the emotional impact it had on me, in the pages of my sketchbooks.

11 1/2 x 8 1/4, 9B graphite and Derwent Inktense colored pencils

This afternoon, the crowds around my subject were far thinner than they'd been on Thursday, in spite of the day's perfect, sunny and crisp fall weather. And today, the hood of the car was closed, so I was able to appreciate its sleek lines much more. Soon enough, my melancholy mood evaporated as I turned all of my attention to trying to get its essence just right.

11 1/2 x 8 1/4, 9B graphite and Derwent Inktense colored pencils

I can rarely sustain the focus to do more than a single drawing in one sitting, but for whatever the reason, I was smitten and pushed beyond my usual limits of patience. I gave up on the idea of doing a careful and painstakingly detailed drawing of any one view - not really my forte anyhow - and drew the car four times from different vantage points, getting a real designer's sense of its lines and proportions. It is rare to see a fully intact car of this vintage in such beautifully unrestored condition, and this made it much more accessible and real to me. The lack of high reflectivity and shiny surfaces allowed its form and design to fully reveal themselves.17 x 11, 9B Grafwood graphite pencil

People seeing an artist working in unexpected places are often curious, but don't know whether to come close enough for a look, or what if anything to say. I don't know what to do myself - it's a little awkward, doing something that I experience so intimately in front of spectators. But I try not to be too bristly, even when someone says (as did one young woman today) "Have you ever heard of a camera?" ("Yes, I even have one . . .").

When I stood up to walk around the car again after the third drawing, a man asked me if I was drawing that car. I was more forthcoming than usual, and we conversed for a few minutes. I found out that he owned a 1940 Lincoln Continental Zephyr, for which this is one of the two prototypes built, along with other interesting bits of information. That despite the V12 engine, they developed only 120 horsepower, and that lots of guys put hemis or other later, more powerful motors into them so they'd be as fast as they looked. I got an email address from him, and told him I'd send him a link to the blog post that I'm now writing, where he could see what I'd done.

 11 1/2 x 8 1/4, 9B Grafwood graphite pencil

Shortly thereafter, the apparent owner of the car came over and a small crowd converged as he got in and cranked the starter, but it wasn't sounding promising. A fellow exhibitor shouldered his way to the front to play with the carburetor and in a few seconds the car was burbling smoothly. As the car sat idling and the owner conversed with bystanders, I trotted back to my pile of sketching stuff, moved my stool behind the car, and dashed off one more quick drawing before the owner closed the hood, got back into the driver's seat, and pulled the car away from the curb to drive it home. Why I copied down the phone number that was on the windshield I have no idea - but the lovely dull patina, the quiet lushness of its restrained form, and the fact that it was sitting there for sale . . . well, a guy has to entertain impossible dreams, or why get out of bed in the morning?