This is part one of two, as I took a slew of photos this afternoon, walking through Green-Wood Cemetery with my younger brother, in town for a few days. This cemetery is very near my apartment, yet I haven’t been since last summer. It was a trip to release one of my goldfish (grown too large for my tank) into the beautifully tended koi and comet pond there.
As I mentioned in yesterday’s post, I went to the Ice House in Red Hook after stopping in at Bait & Tackle. There are always lots of people to observe and sketch on a fine day in the backyard there. Although I think this structural meditation on the wall is my favorite of these three. Painted version of sketch number one below. Not so effective; gotta get more strategic with where, why, and how I add color.
Here is a version of the sketch from the bottom of yesterday’s post (also below)— to which I returned last evening and added color. Jolly! Messy, and because I used the Pilot G2, a little muddied from the ink smearing, but jolly nonetheless.
Above: Sketch of the wee truck-turned-garden on the Gowanus Canal. The pencilling is decent, but I rather cocked it up with the paint and markers, as you can see below. It has put in stark relief my lack of experience with using color in outdoor environments; sunshine and flora.
Last week I stumbled upon Urban Sketchers, a sort of global consortium of like-minded individuals who draw from life, primarily in the streets. They aim to finish each piece in situ. I plan to take up the challenge more seriously, and with more care, having seen some of the brilliant work done by other sketchbook artists. I’ve joined up with the NYC chapter; a new art community.
Speaking of— Friday I began a new sketchbook. It has very thin paper, and not so good for taking marker and watercolor. I’ll do my best to blast through this one at rapid fire. It will be good for me in the way of not allowing me to get too precious, which is bad for experimenting, improving, so the timing is good—a push to make the most of it. As we all know, good art needn’t require the best materials.
Here’s a sketch done on the subway. This one came out alright with color. I was more strategic with my use of color, and this one is more in my usual line of sketching: people, mostly.
Saturday evening there was a fundraising event on the historic museum barge in Red Hook; the reading of every last canto of Walt Whitman’s Song of Myself, as read by a number of local luminaries. It began before and ended just after sunset over Brooklyn’s Buttermilk Channel and Erie Basin, the once-Dutch, fierce little neighborhood called Red Hook.
I’ve long had emotional ties to ol’ Walt on account of my father being a fan; he passed it to me. So when I read him in high school (the same all girls Catholic school with fierce teachers that managed to get A Handmaid’s Tale on our reading list), I was all in.