On offer today: some marker and pen sketches of folks from the last Friday night at Hope & Anchor. Officially closed as of Sunday, and as I understand they had a sort of second line jazz funeral for the beloved diner and karaoke joint of Red Hook.. It’s a place I’ll sorely miss; another casualty of the sweeping change that’s been a kind of secondary storm in the wake of Hurricane Sandy.
Spent some time in Red Hook over the weekend; went to say goodbye to that institution of a watering hole Bait & Tackle, followed by a visit into Sunny’s (where yesterday’s photos originated), and finally dinner and some time with friends who sing at Hope & Anchor, also soon to be no more.
This is a city that changes constantly, it’s true. But there’s something altogether too fast about it when three places at the heart of a small community like the Hook all disappear in short order (the third will be Ice House; not sure when). It’s going to irrevocably change the fabric of that area, and for the worse, I’ve no doubts. Especially judging from the new bits of residential real estate that’ve been popping up.
Development, left unchecked, will be the undoing of any kind of character or authentic qualities this town has left.
Here is a fox. This is a study or start of the character design process. He will appear in the animated short I’ve undertaken to create. I’ve still not done any story boards, nor have I a story set in my mind, but I do tend to get ahead of myself with these things.
Below are some scratchy starts of other potential characters; deer, and the horses (who shall be background characters, seen off in the distance where the farm is). I’m beginning to have grasp what a lot of work this will require, creating the whole thing of layered pencil drawings! But jolly fun.
At the bottom you’ll see two of the six sets of trees that so far comprise my introductory forest scene; dark trees are foreground, and everything pales as it recedes.
I stayed home last night; missed several parties, missed toasting with friends who I’ve not seen enough of. A head cold has been slinking ‘round the door for a few days (probably a few weeks), and by Midnight it’d overtaken me. I didn’t have any the past two winters, but I’ve been burning candles at both ends lately, so I can’t be too surprised or upset.
Despite feeling poorly, it’s not a bad thing to cross the threshold of a new year quietly and in solitude. I did this little drawing to mark the changing of the guard. (I added the snow on a whim, though clearly those aren’t winter trees, all clad in leaves.)
I’d hoped for a cold-bright wander on New Year’s Day, but that’ll have to wait for better health. Glad tidings, with a few sniffles! I’ll see what I can make of it. More drawing, whether for me or my freelance project, will make a fine start of things for 2018.
The day following the feast was sunny and mild, inviting of a long wander. Following lunch in a sunny local, we embarked on a meandering walk that included many stops along the way in a handful of neighborhoods.
Eventually we found ourselves again at the harbor, staring out at moon-glittered water in the early dark. We breathed in the salt smell of that black and brackish channel where the sea and river meet; entrance and exit of the city where boats are welcomed by la dame verte.
And the steaming bird, fresh from the oven, rested on the sideboard, waiting to be carved for the feast of giving thanks.
On a Friday night in Red Hook, a delightful reunion of friends over a swell dinner and lots of singing. (I don’t sing at karaoke, but I sure love listening and drawing.)
Day twenty-three: A paper box of safety matches could always be found by the stove.
A spool of thread, attended by a stray button, awaited the mending at hand.
Day sixteen: The afternoon warmed unexpectedly— unseasonably. He’d removed his accustomed scarf on account of the change; left it coiled like a tie or a snake on the picnic table in the dooryard. There, it warmed in the sun.
See all of my #Inktober drawings @edaggarart or elizabethdaggar.com