Sketchbook entries May 7 - 13, 2020

I think it's hard to make time to draw until I look at what real artists do, and I remind myself that this is both a discipline, and for me a vital therapy. The past seven days.

On an early evening walk around the block, I stopped and sat on the side steps of Marietta Borough Hall to take a call on my phone, and took this rather distorted first stab at drawing the old hotel in my pocket sized sketchbook.

Heavy rains brought local streams to flood stage, and the waters of the Susquehanna inundated parts of the river trail last week.

Saturday's excursion, wandering narrow country roads in the southeastern part of the region. Huddled in the freezing wind staring at a big sycamore tree.

This roadside cascade just south of Columbia that I'd never noticed. A pair of pocket sized sketches as the northwest wind blows snow flurries into a May afternoon.

My favorite bicycle route loops down along Little Chiques Creek below a big farm. Usually too busy pedaling in the other direction to have ever focused on this view. A quiet Mothers Day morning walk.

Later on Sunday afternoon up on Pinkerton Road. Reducing the farmscape to a few gestures on paper.

A gap between the gable ends of two barns right next to Route 23 in Silver Springs reveals a picture waiting to be seen. Like standing in front of a painting that nobody knows is there.

Trying again to draw the old hotel. Mostly ticking off the box for sketch-a-day.

On the way to a jobsite near Hummelstown, this barn sinking back into the earth.

And before starting work today, another shot of the (former) hotel at East Market and New Haven Streets..

A sketchbook week, late April-early May 2020

A long time since I've posted here, thinking I'd have a new website built by now. Not there yet. In the meantime, entries in my sketchbook this last week. Studies of small moments. Reminding myself that seeing beauty requires no more than adopting a positive attitude.

From the dogwood tree in front of the house, these in a vase on the dining room table.On a sunlight dappled morning, where I walk down over the railroad tracks to the Northwest River Trail.A battered silver maple near the riverside trail.Realizing how I distorted the foreshortening in the previous day's drawing, another try from the same poison ivy infested spot, with two thirds of the canopy rising beyond the bounds of the page.Told that I should draw everyday objects for a change instead of just trees that all look the same (I don't think so but ...), this mundane scene at the kitchen table after rhubarb pie.

A third sketch of the same tree, pen and ink, trying to get it all on the page.Garlic mustard. Described by invasive species botanists as a noxious weed, an infestation, non-native to our soils, aggressive, destructive, a serious concern to American forests. Extremely difficult to control. I think of viral outbreaks, pandemics, of Covid 19. But on a walk along the flooded river trail, nonetheless beautiful in the early morning sunlightRescuing Tarik from the side of Rte 83 northbound after the gearbox gave out in Ina's 21 year old Chevy S-10. Waiting next to the highway for AAA tow truck to arrive. This is why I carry a sketchbook most of the time, for those otherwise idle moments when I'm on a "waste no time" campaign.Perhaps a hundred yards off a curving dip on Anderson Ferry Road, a giant sycamore grows next to Donegal Creek. In every season, it stands out in the landscape, irresistably drawing my gaze. Each of the countless times I've passed it on the road these twenty years that I've been a resident of Marietta, I've thought I need to attempt a portrait. Finally, a view from the road where it crosses the creek.Fresh air beside a country road, sitting in the weeds, not a single car passed.

Outdoor studio

As an aspiring sixth grade artist, I was given a book on art technique written by Henry Gasser, an artist and teacher. Of all the advice in that volume, what stuck with me most was the importance of drawing and painting from life, to the point where I became unwilling to do studio work. I was convinced that something essential is lost in translation when, at least in making representational art, the experience of seeing isn't immediately translated into work done in the moment, on site. So with rare exceptions, that's what I've done for over fifty years, most of it small in scale and in sketchbooks. I've enjoyed drawing and sketching from life as an avocation, and it's had its benefits, but over time it's gnawed at me that maybe I'm just scared to commit to more sustained and involved efforts. Lately, I've been saying to myself that I need to face the challenge and break out of my little box.

Today was a gorgeous Saturday here in Marietta, with almost no wind, clear skies and perfect temperature to spend the day outdoors. After an early morning trip to Lancaster's Central Market, we came home, put together an apple pie, then my cooking apron became an artist's apron as I gathered a large sheet of Rives BFK paper, a box of soft pastels, and a watercolor sketch I did a few weeks ago in Maine, and set up on the patio picnic table.

It's been almost twenty years since I last put much serious effort into working with pastels, and I had to set aside my intimidation at starting out on a big piece of paper. But the beautiful day and the memory of the quiet time I spent looking out across Stand Cove on that lovely fall afternoon helped me to stay focused long enough to do this.30" x 22-1/2", soft pastels on Rives BFK paper

Maine sketches

This year, as last year, we spent the first week of fall in Maine. We needed the break, and it was beautiful. Here are some of my sketches from the trip.

Cape Rosier, Maine.
Cape Rosier, Maine.

house, Cape Rosier Road
Spectacle Island rainclouds

Spectacle Island rainclouds II

Isle au Haut, Maine.

clothesline, Hiram Blake Camp, Maine.

clothesline, Hiram Blake Camp, Maine.

Hiram Blake Camp, Maine.

Work in progress

A kitchen design for a very particular client. Months in development, finally beginning to come into clear focus.

early concept sketchoverall form, final scheme

AutoCAD model, digitally rendered, one of many studies