This is a sketch from a couple weekends ago. My friends Sarah & Tara were performing at Freddy’s Bar & Backroom, and the band that followed them was
Elijah Shiffer And The Robber Crabs. The sax player had a sort of steam punk-looking alto sax— it had a machine-like patina not generally associated with such an instrument. .
I began to draw it, but with so much detail amid all the movement, it was difficult to pin down. Anyway, I quite like this sketch, even unfinished.
Apologies for the long gap in activity here. I did so well with a minimum of 1-2 posts per week for over two years, and recently dropped the ball! I was on a trip to my usuals over the past couple of weeks; Amsterdam, Berlin, and Paris— photos forthcoming as I go through my selects, and follow the threads of some stories.
I traveled with Z, and by younger brother, J. We had a wondrous adventure and spent lots of time with old friends, and some new ones. Above is a little cartoon I drew of us one evening in Paris. This is purely from imagination, not a true portrait, but I think it captures us on our trip rather well.
More posts to come very soon, as I find time here and there to process and unpack the many photographs (and thoughts, feelings) from my travels.
Just a little drawing I did yesterday at Halyard’s, where I stopped for a little while during my wander.
On Friday we leave for our trip to Europe! It’s been just over two years since my last visit, and I’m super excited. I still have some freelance work to do; drawings for the documentary— and of course my regular full time job as well. But no doubt this week will fly, as has this whole month.
I think the original title of this was A sick thing upon the rocks in the very early morning. It’s from when I was a teenager in college. (I think the sketch that precipitated this ink drawing originated during an acid trip; that coming down feeling—)
As I see it now, looking through the archive, it looks to me like a personification of the tail end of winter. Fighting in vain against the sun; unwilling to exit stage left; refusing to retreat for its Persephone months—
Those during which she must return to where she’d been abducted. By absent-mindedly eating the pomegranate seeds proffered by Hades, she doomed herself to a third the year in the underworld, thereby depriving the surface of the world of green things growing during her absence.
That is Winter, which doesn’t like to take its leave quietly, gracefully.
. . .
(TBH, the way I wrote the title of this post reminds me of nothing so much as the GOP, but that’s a different sort of post altogether.)
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.
Day thirty-one: Seasonal gourds and a straw broom rested on the porch. The wind was picking up, and the barometer was dancing.
. . .
I hope you’ve enjoyed this Inktober as much as I have! Stay tuned— I’ll be putting together a little book of these drawings (and possibly a few more) in the weeks to come!
A murmuration of starlings could be spotted in the distance, swirling and changing formation above the far edge of the tilled field.
Days twenty-nine and thirty of #Inktober. Click through to see the individual drawings in more detail.
. . .
While I’m writing, I want to say thanks to everyone who’s found and followed this blog in the past month or two. The family is growing, and I’ve looked at, read, and followed so many of your blogs, too. My birthday was October 27th, and today the number reached 1,027, so thank you, again!
Continue reading “A murmuration of starlings spotted on the horizon”
Days twenty-seven and twenty-eight, a diptych:
She had a Victorian sensibility and liked to collect little things she found on her walks.