under the weight of the September sky

That bright and intensely deep blue September sky, so ominous, so heavy with promise.
The brisk tingle of cold weather to come bends the heads of the flowers.

I bought some tiny plants at the hardware store last May. They only had a leaf or two each, but they were labeled "Moulin Rouge Sunflower". That was enough promise for me, I could hardly wait to see what they would look like.

The first blooms took me aback. They were black sunflowers, black center and black petals with just a hint of dark red. Now, at the end of summer, I am finding some blooms with a lot more of the dark red and a tiny gasp of gold.

staring

The writer should never be afraid of staring. There is nothing that does not require his attention. 

Flannery O'Connor

My encounter with this old man would have fit right into a Flannery O'Connor story. (well, maybe not the gruesome parts)
I was visiting a friend on a hot August day. We passed the time together with me following her on her various rounds of the day. After we drove to a spot where she had tomatoes and squashes growing, inspected the weeds and picked a few vegetables, and as the day became ever warmer and stickier, we had to visit her old friend. I do not know how she had his acquaintance, but she introduced me as "the artist who is going to draw your portrait. "
He immediately found his antique hat to strike a pose. This hat was really old, like a beaver pelt hat from Abraham Lincoln days. I was more worried about how hot it was on his head as we were all dripping and sweating and he had his long sleeved shirt buttoned up. He sang old songs to me, and generally acted like a charming gentleman with lady visitors to entertain.
I think about the truth of what I see and I stare and I try to convey that moment in my work.

a man

"What's money? A man is a success if he gets up in the morning and goes to bed at night and in between does what he wants to do." Bob Dylan

I can't agree with this clever quote. And if a man can get away with doing just that, he would have to be very clever.
I met this man while visiting France. I sketched his interesting face while we were eating a dinner that lasted until late on a moonlit night with lots of long conversations. Every drawing has a history, and can be looked at with the smells, sounds and flavors of that moment.

psychological studies and sketches

I am interested in working toward the goal of making these sketches more than an attempt at a likeness. I want to look at this person and try to show what is really there.

An experience that I am thinking of here is one that has happened more than once while visiting at the nursing home. I have found myself in conversation with someone who now looks quite differently from the person that they actually are or have been. Once I am engaged in the conversation, of course, I "see" the older person before me in a completely different light. The wheelchair and the oxygen tubes disappear and I only see the gallant war hero, a perky volunteer, or ultra-competent office manager who now sits in that spot.

I am not satisfied with my approach here, the drawing is not alive. My dear patient subject who sat for me was wearing her "Sunday best", her hair was just "done", and she gave me her nicest face. I did not feel like I got to the"truth" of her yet. There are many layers of faces that everyone wears, (oh, I feel a T.S.Eliot quote coming on.)
"There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;"
T.S.Eliot: The Love Song of J.Alfred Prufrock

new series of sketches

I I am thinking about a new series, a new subject to explore. Portraits of people. People that are older, maybe, considered elderly and or infirm. I spend a fair bit of time visiting at a nursing "home" for elderly people. Most of the people I see there are not ever going to leave, this is the place where they will spend their last days. Some are worse by the day, some seem to stay about in the same position all the time. The staff at this facility are wonderful, I am so impressed by the love and care they give the patients.

I want to make my artwork about showing the inner person, the original, maybe younger self behind the wrinkles and aged appearance.

I did these drawings this past weekend, starting with a woman that I know very well, my mother-in-law. She has been my greatest, most loyal and supportive fan. I am grateful for her patience in allowing me to begin this drawing series with her.

sometimes the subject chooses you

When I wander about the world inspecting the visual stimulus surrounding all of us I might find one subject more interesting than another. 

I find myself fascinated with the possibilities,colors, line quality, forms, and pure physical beauty of flower forms. I am not painting them to be "happy". I am painting them to satisfy the desire to record what I am seeing. Sometimes, I am seeing beauty, sometimes it is just a weird strangeness in the angles, the curves, the shapes that say line and paint to me.

Details shown here, "Dead sunflowers". Line art in ink and acrylic washes.

My mother doesn't like these flowers

I have placed myself in a position somewhere in-between so that I don't have any appreciators. My mother thinks my flower paintings are too big and not pretty enough. My graduate class thinks they are too small and too pretty. I don't have an audience either way I turn.

life drawing session on a rainy saturday

I worked so very hard for the first couple of hours getting warmed up. The model had a very jumpy soundtrack playing on a boombox, making me nervous, some rap, some hiphop, and I was sure I wasn't going to turn out any sort of a drawing  that day.

I spent the first two hours yelling inside my head (encouraging instructive stuff at myself), and then it all happened in the last hour, just as some mellow music came on the studio soundtrack. Maybe it was the folk rock, but it all came together. Drawing is hard, you must keep working at it steadily from the ugly uncertain bits on to the finish.

a summer rose

Another watercolor pencil sketch from my traveling notebook. I picked this rose from the garden of our friends and drew while they were preparing us a lovely dinner. I was so incredibly blessed (and really a bit spoiled). Good friends, good food, interesting conversation in two languages, some nice wine, and ...roses.

summer in the southwest corner of France

We had the great pleasure of a visit to the home of some French family friends. I will post more about our adventures and discoveries in the next days.
I would have sketched more, except that, (oh excuses, excuses) I had a new camera and just absolutely had to snap some 1,000 or more photos. Also, I would have sketched more if we were not moving so fast all day visiting so many exciting places. My camera had to end up being my "sketchbook".

One of my moments to sit and draw came on this day while in the garden of our friends. My husband was helpfully mowing their lawn, but I sat under the willow tree on a little bench and drew the bridge and lily pond.
I had  brought just a few watercolor pencils along in my bag, limited colors and only a q-tip and paper towel to "paint".

And here, out of my thousand of travel photos is the actual garden at the home of our good friends. This photo is taken from the other side of the little pond, the bench that I sat on is tucked away under the willow tree.