The Bread Workshop is a combination café and artisan bread bakery in Berkeley. They focus on seasonal, sustainable, organic, healthy and delicious foods served in a comfortable atmosphere. From our table we had a view of the small team of bakery workers, hustling to get hundreds of loaves of bread packaged and ready for next morning delivery to local restaurants.
Sawyer and Oven, ink & watercolor
We sat beside a table of young medical students (including the above guy named Sawyer) who were studying and discussing gastroenterology and what symptoms equaled which diseases—not the most appetizing dinner conversation, but interesting nevertheless. The back of the large “Inferno” oven faced the café and was sparkly clean and decorated with little lights beside a bulletin board.
Bread and Snacks Counter, ink & watercolor
I stood in front of the counter where you order (above) to sketch and then painted it at our table. This was really fun to draw.
Dinner at Bread Workshop, ink & watercolor
My grilled chicken breast had been marinated in a yogurt sauce first and it was spicy and delicious, the grilled veges were fresh and tasty and they even had brown rice.
It was a dark and stormy night when Cathy and I met at Au Coquelet Cafe to sketch while listening to people debate the existence of reality and/or study English in Chinese.
I started by sketching the guy in the middle with black hair and just kept on going, seeing more and more stuff to draw. At one point he walked by our table, saw what we were doing, pulled out his cellphone and took photos of our sketches of him. That was a first! But it seemed a fair trade.
A group of four (perhaps retired professors from the university) seemed to have gathered for the sole purpose of defining reality, or proving it’s existence, or both, punctuated regularly by “huh?” “what did you say?” as one of the gents was hard of hearing (but not hard of “talking” as he blathered on and on). On our other side were Chinese college students studying English, but mostly in Chinese, with the occasional English phrase thrown in such as “I am a pretty girl” and “I am eating an apple” (which she wasn’t).
Au Coquelet is a perfect place to sketch. It’s large, open very late, has a couple of rooms, and counter service only so you don’t have to worry about waiters. There’s lots of wood, bricks, brick-a-brack and plants, design left over from the hippie days.
I have fond memories of sketching there on another stormy night, New Year’s Eve 1997, when I was supposed to be in Yosemite National Park but had canceled the trip due to rain. And it was good I didn’t go: the next day Yosemite had the worst flooding in 100 years, with roads and bridges so damaged that people were stranded there for weeks without sanitary facilities or food.
So with no plans for the evening, I headed up to the café to draw people who did have plans, partygoers coming in before and after their parties. After a while, a tall, handsome artist sketching at another table came over and joined me. We sketched together and talked, and ended up dating for a few months until I decided that the tales he told were too good to be true.
I had a wonderful afternoon with Casey (of art blog “rue Manuel bis”), her charming husband and delightful daughter on Friday when they were in San Francisco for a brief visit. Casey’s husband was interested in visiting Berkeley so we started our tour of Berkeley at Chez Panisse where we were lucky enough to get lunch reservations.
Although we brought our sketchbooks to share with each other, we didn’t sketch, focusing instead on delicious food and great conversation. I took a photo of this scene in the restaurant as we were leaving. Here is the way it appears in my sketchbook, drawn from the photo on my computer screen:
sketchbook pages
The design at top left is from the lunch menu which I photocopied smaller and glued in the sketchbook. I discovered that my souvenir Chez Panisse postcard is the perfect size to trace around to create a nice margin in this book. To keep it handy I stuck it in the glassine envelope I’d glued in the back of the sketchbook. Things were looking so messy in this sketchbook as I tried to find my way with the new paper and size of sketchbook. Now I’ve found the solution to the messy pages: draw the margins first and stay within them instead of painting to the edge of the page.
911 on Telegraph Ave.
Despite my warning that Berkeley’s Telegraph Avenue is pretty funky, everyone wanted to see the University of California, Berkeley campus and visit the used record and book stores on Telegraph. We walked on campus and then down to the shops where I bought an old Busby Berkeley CD (in honor of my cat of the same name).
On Telegraph I noticed two women who looked like prostitutes wearing outlandish makeup and mini-skirts. We also passed a soapbox preacher ranting (positively) about sex, a lone hare Krishna, sad clumps of young junkies with their pit bulls, the requisite tables of political bumper stickers, a super-stinky homeless guy, a bathing products store, a “head shop” selling hookahs, and someone handing out flyers for a tanning booth.
Heading back to my car we heard shouting. Those same whorish women we’d seen were running from Telegraph towards us on Durant, pursued by several coeds and everyone was screaming. The ho’s were screaming “Don’t touch me! Get away from me!” The coeds were screaming “Give me back my purse! Give me back my sweater!”
We stood there as if watching TV, trying to make sense of it all. The two ho’s jumped into a shiny black car parked right in front of us and slammed the door. The girls continued screaming while a slight young man stood at the driver’s window, saying, “Just give her the purse back.” Finally someone yelled, “Call the police!”
That snapped us out of our confusion and while I dialed 911, Casey had the presence of mind to note the license number of the car and was repeating it over and over. I told the 911 operator what was going on and handed the phone to Casey who gave the license number.
The ho’s threw the empty purse out the car window, revved their engine, and although the girls tried to block them from driving off, managed to speed away. I sure hope they got caught via the license number but I’m guessing the car was just as stolen as the purse, and probably ditched quickly. It was weird and scary, but fortunately nobody was hurt.
It was a more comprehensive tour of Berkeley than I’d intended. We went from the pinnacle of fine dining, to the campus at the center of the city, to the ugly underside of my dear Berzerkeley.
Sketching at the Claremont Hotel, ink & watercolor
The Claremont Hotel in Berkeley is all decked out for the holidays and a good place to sketch when it’s cold outside. We met there Tuesday night and had our choice of comfy places to sketch. That’s Sonia in the sketch above, drawing a piano that is just off to her left.
I found a spot near their fancier bar and restaurant with another grand piano where (I thought) a talented jazzy piano player was entertaining the diners. I really liked the way he riffed on holiday music (although his repertoire seemed not too extensive as he began repeating the songs after about an hour).
Outside the bar at the Claremont
At the end of the evening I walked into the bar to thank the piano player, having imagined what it must be like playing holiday music in a bar, night after night, the same tunes over and over, while people celebrated. The bench was empty! The piano was playing itself, the keys popping up and down on their own.
I liked both of these sketches more as ink drawings before I overworked them with paint. I’ve been really tired this week which often leads to mucking around when I should be moving on to the next page.
Last night I needed to grab a quickie dinner between work and a 7:00 meeting so I stopped at the nearby Oakland Whole Foods. I looked over the salad bar, passed up the make your own trail munch bar (?!) and the soul food bar with pulled pork, black-eyed peas and greens, seriously considered the Indian and Chinese bars but settled on some pretty, steamed organic veges and some Mexican items.
The dining area was hopping with activity, filled with a perfect sampling of Oakland’s demographics, with people of all ages, races, preferences, and functionality. I ate quickly so I’d have a few minutes to sketch the view from my table. Then I ran out of time and had to leave, so I added watercolor at home.
Now that it’s getting dark right after work, we’re having to find indoor spots to sketch and this week we visited another planet known as the Albany Bowl. Since it was early evening on a Tuesday night, the customers were mostly people who like to bowl while drinking pitchers of beer and eating vast quantities of fried food, rather than the gang-types known to hang out there during the later hours.
Their bar, pictured above is the cleanest smelling bar I’ve ever been in. There wasn’t the slightest scent of beer or cigarettes, just fresh air and a whiff of chlorine bleach, oddly enough. It was also nearly empty since most people were doing their drinking while they bowled. Semi-hidden in the sketch above is the bartender who I “erased” with scribbles and paint after I goofed up his nose.
Cathy and I sat in tall comfy barstools along the back wall and sketched, creating a great deal of confusion for the bartender who couldn’t figure us out, though he didn’t seem to mind when we politely said, “No thanks” when he came over to take our orders. We just kept on sketching.
Albany Bowling Alley Cafe, ink & watercolor
We had a similar experience in their little cafe, which from the outside appeared to offer retro-diner sketching opportunities, but in fact, had very little going for it besides the stools and miles of formica. When I said we didn’t want food, just wanted to sit and draw pictures, the young waiter didn’t get it until I showed him my sketchbook. Then he said OK and left us alone. The waitress asked to see what we’d done when we were leaving, and she squealed and laughed when we showed her. I pointed out the waiter’s little beard in my sketch and he smiled.
We tried drawing the bowlers in action; I did a page of gesture sketches and then we decided we’d had enough of the noise on this planet (constant music, announcements, bleeps and bloops from video machines, people yelling) and decided it was time to go home.
Condiments at Albany Bowl Cafe, ink & watercolor
I really miss being able to go outdoors for our Tuesday night sketching. While urban interiors are interesting, and drawing anywhere is fun, I miss gardens and birdsong which I much prefer to neon lights and the annoying sounds of video games.
On Monday night I completed another sketchbook and three years of sketch-blogging. Cathy and I had dinner at Cactus Taqueria on Solano Avenue in Berkeley and sketched the other diners. Then we started walking to see what else looked like fun to draw.
It was cold and foggy outside, and the lobby of the old Oaks Theatre looked warm and inviting so we walked in and asked if we could sketch. This confused the woman working there who had nothing to do but sit and chat with a younger woman. It was a Monday night and they were showing a French movie and it was a bad French movie and so there were few customers. She told the manager we wanted to sketch (with a tone of voice that implied we might be deranged) and he said it was fine.
Oaks Theatre Popcorn Machine, Berkeley, ink & w/c
We sat on carpeted stairs (the only place to sit except the already occupied bench) and sketched the popcorn machine directly in front of us. At first it seemed like a stupid, boring subject, but within minutes I was captivated by all the odd mechanical bits inside the machine. Oddly, despite the strong scent of hot popcorn, the machine was completely empty.
At first we sketched listening to the inane conversation of the two women which even they seemed bored by. They left and the manager came over and asked us whether drawing can be learned or if is just an inborn talent (definitely can be learned!). Then he wandered off and we listened to him being lectured to by a customer (inspired by the movie she’d just left?) about race, culture, history, and her philosophies on life, while he listened patiently, saying “OK.” I jotted down a few of her pronouncements on the sketch.
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About a year ago, I received an email from Croatian poet and author Sonja Smolec, asking for permission to use one of my watercolors on the cover of her new book of poetry, “White Lilac Love.” Of course I agreed, and was delighted when she sent me a copy of the book.
A week ago I received an email from Sonja telling me that her publisher had held a bookcover contest and her book had won! The 73 poems in White Lilac Love weave a beautiful and tender love story with all the soaring emotions from hope to despair to true love along the way. One of the poems was so evocative and full of wonderful imagery that it inspired a painting (in progress — more about that later).
Jana Bouc, Artist 