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?

1939 Lincoln Continental prototype

A chilly start developed into a perfect fall day by the time I emerged from a mid morning meeting in Lancaster today. Feeling myself ahead of immediately pressing work, I impulsively decided to take the rest of the day off. I drove back to the studio, grabbed my sketchbook, pencils, and folding stool, and with windows rolled down in the Saab 99, headed for Hershey and the world's largest annual antique car flea market. When I've attended in the past, it's always been on Saturday morning, and I always have arrived in the dark and the cold, to get a decent parking spot and to be on hand when the show cars are driven onto the field for judging. But today's weather was irresistable, and the idea of going twice appealed to me more than wearing myself out with a long visit on just one day.

Today, all I really did was stroll the car corral, looping around the perimeter of the endless aisles of old car parts and memorabilia. There were plenty of nice cars, from brass age buggies with wooden spoked wheels, to depression era Hupmobiles and Packards, to chrome laden behemoths from the 50s, muscle cars, British sports classics, and pickup trucks from every decade. All the shiny restored vehicles left me less than enthralled, though, and I began to wonder if the wide eyed delight I'd always found in wandering among old cars had abandoned me. I didn't see anything I liked until I was almost ready to leave without even taking my sketchbook out of my bag.

 1939 Lincoln Continental prototype

The car that got my attention was an unrestored Lincoln Continental, one of two prototypes built in 1939. I'd ridden in a 1940, the production model that came from this prototype, years ago one wild night in Tokyo's Ginza with a rich and car crazy friend of my brother in law's, and remembered not being all that impressed. I also read somewhere that many authorities on classic cars considered the Lincoln Continental to be the most beautiful car of the era, and I never could see why. Until today, when I saw it with the ungainly looking soft top down and buttoned under its canvas cover.

I think it was necessary for me to draw it in order for me to truly appreciate the graceful lines and elegant simplicity of this car. The curves of the fenders are voluptuous and understated at the same time. The chrome trim is extremely minimal. Restraint is evident everywhere in the near absence of superfluous detail. The spare tire shroud, copied so often on later cars that it is known as a "Continental kit", was never so perfectly integrated as on this, the famous archetype. The proportions of this large automobile are immaculate, saving it from chunkiness. I'm a believer now. I could have sat there in the grass all day, getting up from time to time just to walk around it and let my eyes flow over its curves. The real bonus for me is that it has the dents, scrapes, faded paint, and cracked leather that I vastly prefer over 100 point show winning restorations.

second, quicker sketch, sitting on the grass instead of my folding stool

Cars, and I've probably said this before, are difficult to draw convincingly, and I often dislike the results of my own efforts, but this one was such a pleasure that I had to do it twice. I feel tempted to go back again tomorrow as well as Saturday to draw it again from different angles. I can only hope that someone will not have come up with the $87,500 asking price and taken it away by then. If I had the spare change, that someone would be me.