Home of the Brave, 4

A month ago outside of Target, I think. Again a major disappointment, as I'm not truly getting the "Decline of Civilization" subjects I'm looking for/hiding from. The woman at the top wearing lime pants was so happy and full of life, that she actually put me in a better mood. Her positive attitude made me pity the hideously swollen calves of the woman to the right of her. I'm heading out to California later this week, (driving) , I hope to post fresh sketches from the road.

Timid Warrior

Drawing improves painting and painting improves drawing. It's a beautiful, spiritual thing. Not to suggest that any of my drawings ever improved any of my paintings or vice-versa, but I believe it to be a true statement, never the less. After years and years of observation, I have also discovered that using water-based media in a sketchbook, creates waffled pages.

I've also realized that I'm just not a goatee type of guy anymore. I used to have a friend who believed that any sculpting or shaping of facial hair was the utmost in shameless vanity. Either go clean-shaven or have a full beard. I tend to agree with that now, although I think his reasoning was influenced by his inability to grow any facial hair. Ironically, my facial hair is almost pure white now, so it's vanity which keeps me clean-shaven. Perhaps in a few years when I develop neck wattles, I'll opt for a "Gabby Hayes"-style beard. Ahh the circle of life!

Academic

An unusual one for me. I'm more of a slog-with-the-point-of-the-pencil-till-you-get-it-right type of guy. Shoot straight and take the hits with the misses. Mind you, that's a drawing philosophy, not an endorsement for any kind of personal responsibility. That's really more my wife's type of thing. She also has lovely hands, and the above is how one of her's looked around the turn of the millennium.

I must have been inspired at the time by a documentary or magazine article on how real artists draw.

Air Travel

Sketching at the airport; probably Newark, 10 years or so ago. I was an animator then and the blue Color-erase pencil was never out of my hand. Without giving it much thought, I was all about outlines and lines that define shape. Any shading was an after thought. I must've been much cockier too, making a hideous wreck out of strangers in public. "Back off! I'm a cartoonist!"

Durer

A smart-ass self portrait from around 2001. It was the most patriotic themed thing I could find for today. I was using a steel pen I'd found while cleaning out my grandmother's things. I used them for a long time, but I always felt I was chasing Barry Windsor-Smith's tail with them. I would note that I'm appearing with a spatula before the popularity of Spongebob Squarepants.

Kubrick

Last night. I finally got a chance to watch a documentary on Stanley Kubrick I'd saved on Tivo. It struck me how wonderful it must be to be a recognized talent, allowed to work at your own pace, on whatever project you choose, to your personal satisfaction. Actually that sounds like a lot of work, I'm probably more envious of Kubrick's ability to live in a sprawling English manor while he puttered around with his ideas.

Here is a good time to point out my complete inability to draw identical eyes. Or a light source. Or textures ....

Home of the Brave, 3

Saturday swim lessons for my son. 40 minutes of sketching pleasure for me; 40 minutes of humiliation for the poor wretches doomed to be captured by that miserable smart-aleck sketching by the towel rack.