Saturday
Jul162011

Unfamiliarity

Okay, time to really get a good dose of humility here. Yesterday, I filled the last page in the little sketchbook that I started drawing in daily about a month ago. This morning, I opened a new one, but a little over twice the size. I figured that it would take some adjusting to. No disappointment there. I was anxious and tense almost the whole time while I was doing the first sketch. I think that the biggest challenge is going to be recalibrating my patience when I'm trying to do much more than a very quick scribble. It takes more than twice as long, and a lot more thoughtfulness, to work at the same level of detail at double the size when the tools (pencils in this case) stay the same. Of course, it didn't help matters that the dog wanted to sit on my lap, the light was changing rapidly, and I was feeling in a hyper self critical mood. Maybe I'll go meditate before I do this again.

By the way, you pipe collectors visiting the site, you might want to click on the "sketchbooks" tab at the top of the page, where you'll find a series of drawings of pipes from the past month.

 bad breakfast on the patio, 8 1/4 x 11 9/16, graphite and watercolor pencil

Friday
Jul152011

Familiarity

I find that I like doing things in series. Not so unusual - most artists and designers, and everyone in any endeavor likes working this way. Routine, the anathema of the creative mind, is absolutely necessary in order for us to have a baseline from which we measure our progress. An experiment conducted only once is an event without context. Doing it twice, we can make comparisons. Many times, and patterns begin to emerge. How we use each experience creates the direction in which we evolve. All of this may seem self evident, but I find it useful to see these obvious things as though for the first time.a quick sketch of the familiar coffee mug and another Rad Davis pipe - part of his work in series.

a little later, a little more coffee

Thursday
Jul142011

Studies

That's what a lot of these are. Trying to put myself somehow in the objects or tableaux in front of me so that instead of my eye and hand simply being co-ordinated, with my hand moving in sync with my eye, the drawing sort of grows out of the experience of seeing. It takes a lot of concentration, and at the same time constant little adjustments to things like breathing and posture, or moving my head just a tiny bit so that I refresh my understanding of the volumetric aspect. It's very easy to get something like tv screen stare, when my perception of depth goes away and I'm just dumbly looking at a flat world. So part of what I'm doing here is engaging with what I choose as subjects to understand what I'm looking at in a richer way. The pictures that emerge are the evidence.

Rad Davis squashed apple with coffee mug, 5 1/8" x 8 1/4", graphite and watercolor pencil

with a little rework on the coffee mug

Wednesday
Jul132011

I'm trying to figure out what makes a really good blog, and what makes a really bad one.

Standing in the checkout line at the supermarket today, I couldn't help seeing gossip magazine headlines screaming out unflattering details of the not so private lives of certain media celebrities. That led me to think about reality TV, which is at least partly about being unfiltered. Then I thought about diaries and journals, and the popular profusion of their publication for anyone to see, in the guise of literature. And of course on the other side, contemporary concerns about increasing breaches of personal privacy by governments, businesses, and intrusive or voyeuristic individuals.

 For now I'm just going to throw the question out there. There is a dizzying spectrum of subjects and approaches out there in blog form these days, for all kinds of audiences. What makes you visit the ones you go to regularly? And if you participate with comments, what moves you to do that?

roses in the yard, 5 1/8" x 8 1/4" 2B graphite and watercolor pencils

Tuesday
Jul122011

A picture is worth ten thousand words

That's the actual quote. Not a thousand, but ten thousand words. So maybe I should just shut up and post the drawing I did outside on the patio this balmy morning, but I can't. I have to at least say how despondent I felt when I got out of bed at 5:15AM, and how the simple wonder of forms and colors and textures emerging with the nascent early light, and my allowing my knotted self to begin to respond was like crawling out of a black, sweltering cave. My wife says that she writes music to save her life. It sounds melodramatic but I really get it.

a smooth Dublin with plateaux rim by my friend Larry Roush, drawing 5 1/8" x 8 1/4"

 detail of the pipe