shine a light on it.

Illustration Friday sends me little blog posts about once a week. This sweet one came early in the morning when I read the newspaper in bed in the dark from a backlit screen and our puppy curled in the center of my back. Must not forget to mention my husband's cold big foot dropped across my ankle. Good cuddly times. However, this blog post discussed selecting a creative career

I have been doodling and drawing for decades. It wasn't until recently that I embarked on doing it professionally. When I went back into my youthful days and analyzed what I loved most about a creative life one thing came up: art supplies. Today I focus on pen/ink, watercolor washes, and charcoal (because I love to etch and smear with my fingers). These are the avenues with which I work, as photography--a first love--hit a stagnant stride. Photography is the study of light, not a device to record all the places you've been. I remember reading an interview with Taryn Simon in conjunction with her exhibit at the Tate Modern (London). She said she never photographs or carries a camera...only when she's working on an exhibit piece. Life as lived, rather than captured. Capturing life with a pen takes on a whole new speed of slow. Meditative. Three hours zip by without even's to getting lost inside a good period of your life.

More out takes from a creative, simple as follows: Drawing model. Floor as my palette. off charcoal all over my wrists and hands and nose in public washroom. Drawing model (yup, different pose).

the 20-minute pose


The 20-minute pose: most fellow artists around me are perfecting their one 20-minute pose portrait. I am trying many attempts with different styles and methods: erasing, scribbling, scratching, and writing (dialoguing with my sketchbook about why something does or does not work). I thought of this as the radioactive portrait where pieces of her are under a spell of epic light. I'm pretty sure I left with charcoal on my face. Good messy art day, followed with some weight training with the man.

the art of (park)ing it

When I say "parking" here, today, I do not mean making out/sucking face in a car (or that's what we used to refer to it back in the day). I presumme the kids of Betches Love This era don't use the term anymore. However, what I mean, is actually sitting in a park, parking my arse in one place, and opening up a satchel with notebook, watercolors, and snacks for an afternoon.

I have had many attempts at this. In city parks, it almost always invited strangers to circle me as vultures and land across from me, or in one brazen case, a wayward kid sat down right on my blanket, asked if he could have a piece of paper too, and wanted to draw (rather than play football with his Pops). 

In this particular instance, I had nothing in mind (see little diagram right here). But after talking with a woman from South Africa for 45 minutes and doodling, I ended up with this little sketch in the book. If you doodle in public, beware: it's almost like people want to confess their souls to you and then ponder why they ever gave up art as a kid. Perhaps its a good intersection of quicksand friendships.