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Sometimes I wonder why I majored in textile design, but drawings like this help me see the connection. I love the gal on the far left wearing the tube top. I've always had a fascination with self-assured racy women. Their shoes seemed so intriguing compared to Mom's practical foot wear. Susie's Mom would like you to know that she saved for all this, and does not shop on credit.
After a few days of overeating and mindless TV viewing (Thank you Real Housewives of Atlanta!) I feel my energy starting to rebound. Meanwhile, Susie and her Mom are having so much fun around town that they ignite consumer confidence and the Dow goes up, up, up.
I'm going to take the weekend off, and will be posting a few pages from a book I made when I was nine or so. It's called "Susie's Summer". Watch as Susie and her Mom do their part to try to boost the economy.
This turkey was handwoven by an inmate in a Mexican jail. The work helps them sustain their families while they're incarcerated, and teaches skills for employment after discharge. Happy Thanksgiving!
I've been hit by a case of overexhaustion. I'm hoping a day or two off will help. Right now I feel like I have no color, like a dried up old leaf.
One of the frozen ravioli that is about to become my lunch.
What can I draw in less than 10 minutes? How 'bout a banana?
Looking at this banana now, I can see that it's levitating. I wonder what rules of color and value one needs to know to keep their banana on the ground.
I am so crabby tonight. Tired of homework that never seems to end, tired of having open houses where nobody shows. But I do look forward to crimini mushrooms in my omelette tomorrow morning.
Last week I reached my 100th post. I meant to mention it, but forgot. Now I'm at 108, which is a sacred number. And the last time I did one hundred drawings I was probably eight.
Doing a quick scan of my room for something sacred to draw, my eye settled on the foot of the carved wooden dancing yogini I found at a yard sale. The one the "Bali bird" was drawn from. Feet are considered to hold the greatest amount of spiritual energy in India. When you honor a spiritual teacher you "bow to their lotus feet". I learned that the same is true in Mexico when I met a curandera that read feet like palms. She said the greatest amount of energy is concentrated there because the energy of the palms is dissapated through touching things and shaking hands.
So far, all the art work here has been drawn from life. I drew this one from a booklet of Roman busts that I found at the library book sale. I can't wait to one day draw Roman busts from life.
Even though this doll is brightly colored, I saw an image of her in my mind's eye in shades of sienna. I thought the best medium to try to capture that image that would be oil paint. Unfortunately, I can't put the painting in the scanner because it's wet, so I'm back to the photographing art frustration that I had when I first started this blog. When I take a photograph, the image ends up looking whiter and less warm than it actually is. The image on the scanner is more true to life. I hope to find a solution to this before I start experimenting with oil painting during my holiday break.
I found this doll in Santa Fe and I just love her. I don't know a lot about her except that she's Navajo and made out of painted mud, which means that she's not fired and is very fragile.
This is a view of my neighbor's rooftop through the high windows in the living room. When I'm lying down on the living room floor, the windows frame the sky. One of my favorite things to do is lie there and watch the clouds pass by. It's a treat when a plane suddenly but slowly crosses through the frame.
This is the final piece in the "Things I will miss about the house" series. There are other things I will miss, but it's hard to draw "quiet and safe" and I don't feel like drawing the stove or toilets. I've been enjoying this new drawing on top of the painting discovery. And I never thought I'd enjoy perspective drawings. That's something that I used to loathe when I was younger, but have found strangely soothing this time around.
For a while now I've been hearing pigeons on the roof, around the kitchen skylights. There was a lot of clucking and rustling going on and I realized they must be building a nest. The more activity I heard, the bigger the nest became in my mind. Soon enough, with each cluck and rustle, I pictured a village of nests and started to worry that their feathers and bits of straw would plug up a vent and start a fire. Louie worried that their droppings would corrode the roof. This can't be happening, we have a house to sell!
Finally, Louie's son Jeremy came over with a ladder and the two of them climbed on the roof to destroy the pigeon empire. But they found nothing. No nest, not even a feather. The pigeons had simply been stopping by on their way to somewhere else.
This reminds me of what goes on in the mind. How each small cluck and rustle of thoughts can knit together to become a big fear of something that may not even exist. Maybe those thoughts weren't for you anyway, and were just stopping by on their way to somewhere else.
The actual view from the house is much, much wider than what I could fit on the page the last few days. One whole side of the house is made up of windows. I quickly sketched the windows this morning, thinking I could paint them when I got home. I returned later than expected, the light had completely changed, and I no longer had the time to paint. So I told myself "You have 5 seconds to paint what catches your eye". It was the mountain range and the setting sun reflecting off the top of an adobe wall.
The Sandia mountains in the middle of the day. This is a painting where I felt something "click". There were some bright highlights on the edges of the walls that were too thin to catch with a paintbrush. I loved the way the colored pencil grout looked in the tile paintings I did the other day, so I thought I'd try that for the highlights. I started out drawing the rooftops accurately, but I quickly got bored. I like the way it's an impression because that's what it feels like when I look out the window, like I'm looking at the mountains over a jumble of adobe rooftops.
This is what I get to wake up to every morning. It makes getting out of bed a whole lot easier.
Today's drawing captures the shape of the Sandia mountains better than yesterday's, less craggy at the top. I often can't see details like that when I'm doing a drawing, but I see them instantly when the image is on the computer screen. Sandia means "watermelon", and you can see why when they turn bright pink during the sun set. When the sun is rising, the shape of the mountain reminds me of a whale emerging through the surface of the ocean.
The view is what I'll miss most about the house.
I waited all afternoon for the moment when the Sandia mountains turn bright orange. It lasts just minutes. As soon as I put down a wash of blue sky the full moon rose straight up from behind the mountains. It was one of those magical moments as an artist when your subject notices you noticing it, and plays right back with you.
I'll miss having a water filter that's built into the refrigerator. You just step right up with your glass and, ah, cool refreshing water! When my friend Sarah visited, she said that she and her husband agreed that they will have arrived when they have a fridge with a built in water filter.
I have to admit, this was one of the most boring subjects I've attempted to draw. I know I'm trying to challenge myself to try new things, but jeez...
I enjoyed doing yesterday's painting, so I thought I'd try another one just like it. I often have to set a timer in order to get these drawings done in the midst of my busy schedule. I'm thrilled when I can get something I like in the limited time. 1.33 minutes left now, gotta go!
Here are Louie's slippers on the floor tile I picked out for the kitchen and entry way. I got some new kinds of paper to experiment with yesterday. I thought for sure this was a watercolor paper, but it hated water! It took SO long to dry. I had to put down a color, do something else for 30 minutes, then put down another color, etc. That's why the slippers have a more graphic look than I would have preferred. So many learning experiences, so little time.
The tile itself turned out great, it looks just like the real thing. I got the effect by sprinkling salt over the wet watercolor.
It's late and I haven't had time to draw today, so I'm posting a collage I made a few months ago. At the time, I was just playing around with shapes. But now I can see that it's me, running away from grad school, hoping that no one will notice.
I love having a garage. Its sweetness is especially potent after the winters of my youth in Vermont. Scraping frost, chipping ice, sweeping snow. I hate when snow slips down into your glove, even after you've tucked your sleeve into it. And it's ironic that in the winter, when it's cold and more difficult to get out of bed, you actually have to get up even earlier to dig your car out. I know I will have arrived when I have a paid for garage (house attached).
I love the narrow wall in the entry way. It's the perfect size for my geisha calendar. My friend Jacque gave me that calendar in 2003. I have four calendars around the house, two that are correct and two that I keep turning year after year because I like the images. There's something soothing about doing that. Each new month I see a familiar face and think "Oh hello, it's you, it's been a year since I've seen you hasn't it? How have you been?"
I love the way the skylights illuminate all the rooms. We never have to turn on lights until after the sun sets.
Our house is for sale. As much as I'll miss it, I miss the financial flow we had before it. There are many details I love about the house, so I'm starting a series called "Things I will miss about the house". The first thing is the big bathtub with jets.
I tried this drawing with the same materials I used yesterday (Was the red, white, and blue effort obvious?) but it wasn't until I was done that I noticed the colors made it look like a rusty tub! It really is such a wonderful tub and maybe I'll try it again in true bath tub colors.
May all beings everywhere be happy and free.
Best with maple syrup and butter.
The Day of the Dead begins on November 1st with All Saint's Day, but the day after is All Soul's day, in honor of all the regular folk who have passed away. Offerings of food appear on altars at this time of year because it is believed that the deceased will return to eat in spirit.
This little basket of pastries is from Mexico, and is molded out of sugar. It's sort of a delightful surprise because I had only a short amount of time and had to paint really fast. I was so frustrated when the paint ran together because it was still wet. Once I surrendered to the chaos it became a painting in a style of its own, and not the one I had planned.
A quick sketch in honor of Day of the Dead, which begins on November 1st. It's a holiday celebrated in Mexico in honor of those who haved passed. This is the time each year when the souls of the dead return to eat, drink, and be merry with the living.
The sugar skulls I painted before are from Oaxaca, but this one was handmade by my friend Hayward who owns Todos Santos in Santa Fe. I really wanted to take some time and do this one in color, but we're about to have an open house, and I thought sitting there drawing a creepy skull might not be the best way to lure potential home buyers.
