This morning finds me at loose ends, with a rare Saturday ahead of me clear of immediately pressing deadlines after a productive week in the studio, and everyone in my family out of the house until perhaps tomorrow evening. I should be on my way to Washington to wander through the Renwick or the National Gallery, or parking my car in the shadow of that great tomb of art, the Philadelphia Museum, to look at early Pennsylvania furniture masterpieces or breathtaking works by brilliant artists of the past.
But the mid February blahs must have a grip on me, because it's already nearly ten-thirty, and here I am, groomed and dressed yet all but inert, still secluded in my own brick and stone sarcophagus, unwilling to muster enthusiasm to do much more than brew myself a second cup of coffee. And smear darkness into my sketchbook.
talbert, lindner, and cold coffee, 11 1/2 x 8 1/4, Derwent Inktense pencils
self portrait minus smile, 2B graphite pencil