North Beach Pizza in Berkeley is housed in a former International House of Pancakes. Pizza is a sort of large pancake, I suppose, but I wouldn’t want it served with maple syrup. We had a good time eating, chatting and sketching the night away, six of us in one cozy booth.
I drew the pizza before sharing it with Cathy and Micaela (her sketch is here on our Urban Sketchers site.)
You can imagine my glee when this gentleman in full Mohawk sat down across from me on BART. Entranced by his cell phone, he never noticed me sketching and held perfectly still. It must have taken him a long time to get his hair to stand up so perfectly–and why? Especially first thing in the morning? I awarded him a sticker (on his page) from National Geographic.
UPDATE: Larry Hatfield sent me this link to a great Mohawk at a crazy website: People of Walmart where photos of actual shoppers and products at Walmart make you laugh, cringe and/or swear never to go to a Walmart.
And above, bonus BART rider sketches, people reading actual books, not a cellphone/Kindle, etc. And below some subway feet sketches.
I was amused by the variety of guys shoes, from super point to square toes to waffle soles.
A shellfish company saw a previous shell painting of mine and commissioned me to paint one for them to use as a background on their business cards. They shipped me a box of their oyster, clam and mussel shells to use as reference. I created the above sketch in my Moleskine watercolor notebook and sent them the file for their review.
On the next page in my Moleskine, I sketched a landscape and painted it with juicy washes, something I do on the 140 lb watercolor paper in my hand-bound sketchbooks all the time. Without my noticing, the water seeped through the lighter-weight Moleskine paper, wetting the shell painting on the previous page.
Some of the mussels’ paint lifted, creating the wonderful texture (close up above) that I probably couldn’t have achieved if I had I tried. The only downside to this “technique” is that some of the lifted paint printed on the opposite (fortunately blank) page.
I wasn’t worried about the change in the art for my client because I’d already created a high-resolution file of the original. And as it turned out, they asked me to do another version with two different kinds of oyster shells and more clams, apologizing for changing their directions. I’m happy to paint as many versions as it takes since shells are one of my favorite subjects.
It was fun to meet the South Bay members of our Urban Sketchers SF Bay Area group Suhita and John, and to meet some of the members of Sketchcrawl Silicon Valley at the Stanford sketchcrawl on Saturday. Cathy and I made the hour plus drive down there and met at noon. We started with lunch at the outdoor cafe with a view of the Rodin Sculpture Garden (sketched above at the end of the day after everyone left and it is my favorite because I love those funny, imperfectly groomed trees).
My first sketch was the one above, of a statue called “Faith” in front of the Cantor Center for Visual Arts. Starting with “Faith” seemed good, since it helps to have a little faith that the sketching will go well. By 1:00 there were about 10 of us and everyone went off to follow their muses with a plan to regroup around 3:00. I followed Cathy who knew her way around, since my muse, like me, has no sense of direction.
The sign on the building said “Memorial Arch and Court Erected by His Mother, 1898 in Memory of Leland Stanford Jr. Born to mortality May 14, 1868…” I ran out of room to record his year of death but he only lived until age 16 so his mother donated the land Stanford was built on to create a memorial for her son.
From a distance the front of the chapel appears to be glowing gold but when you get closer you can see it’s covered with a stunning mural made entirely in mosaic. Coming from an urban environment where things are crowded, noisy and grungy, Stanford was amazing. The Stanford campus is tremendously spread out (over 8,000 acres), with most buildings only one or two stories, but massive nonetheless. Everything is immaculately clean, with amazing gardens, gazillions of trees (well, officially 43,000), and quiet. At $51,000 a year for tuition, room and board I suppose one should expect a lovely environment!
Today was a bad news, good news day. It started with a migraine that eventually passed enough to work most of the day (despite the internet going down, fixing that and then a little later the electricity went out long enough to shut down the computer with several projects in progress). The migraine left behind a tummy ache. I couldn’t deal with the supermarket so went to the little health food store and bought some natural Ginger Ale, organic saltines and candied ginger (all supposed to be good for tummy aches).
The good news is that this morning my reliable but grumpy mailman delivered my new Namiki Falcon fine point fountain pen and this evening I felt well enough to fill it with ink and give it a spin. I LOVE IT! The nib floats like a dream over the page with control and flexibility and a really nice fine line. It’s the best pen I’ve ever used. UPDATE June 2011: After using the pen for a few weeks I discovered that I didn’t really like it that much and sold it. I felt I had too little control of the ink flow, which went to fast for me, even with the extra fine nib. I’ve gone back to my Lamy Safari extra fine point which I LOVE!
The other good news is that with these sketches I finally finished filling the Moleskine watercolor sketch book that I’ve so detested using during the interim between binding sketchbooks. Tomorrow I get to start using the one I bound a couple of weeks ago. Yay!
On my first day back to work after being sick for weeks we had a staff meeting. I wanted to put my head down on the table and nap so doodled to stay upright and awake. Later I pasted the page in my sketchbook with the added note about antibiotics.
Then my first night back at Tuesday night sketching (at the Bread Workshop) after I drew my food I sketched the sketchers at my table. I had to add that shading to the right of Amy’s face to “erase” the splotch I made by her nose that looked like a booger.
I added one too many lines, which lead to more lines to try to fix them, in Sonia’s hair which had been perfect until I did that. I made a note to remind myself to STOP at “good enough” and not keep going.
I could have reached out and touched his face. But he was so absorbed in his computer he didn’t notice me drawing him at the next table, our knees almost touching. The lady at the table on my other side was watching me and said I captured his likeness perfectly and should show him. I didn’t though, just in case he might not find it flattering. Our own ideas of our appearance often don’t match others’.
This gentleman was sitting at the table after the guy above. I think he might have noticed me sketching but didn’t seem to mind. I think he needed the coffee as he dozed off reading his newspaper at one point. I missed on the shape of his head and just redrew it taller. And then in drawing his large ear lobes I’m afraid my shading there might have made it look like a big hole.
Some fashion victims actually do have big holes in their ear lobes that they intentionally create by inserting devices that gradually stretch them so they look like this. What a weird fad. There are many websites like this one that sell such devices. Why would anyone want to do that?
All those 1’s in today’s date: 1 a good number for beginnings. So even though I’m still under the weather, it felt important to focus on my goals for the new year, the accomplishments of the past year, and to start the year right with a little sketching.
I grabbed some of my new best friends to pose for me: tissues, Vitamin C, Sudafed and my Neti pot with which I have a love/hate relationship. It really helps, but it’s weird (leaning over the sink you pour salty water in one nostril and it flows out the other).
I’m very grateful to have finished the year with a clear understanding of where I want to go with my art, how to get there, and a feeling that it is a reachable destination. A couple of months ago that seemed impossible but thanks to the advice and encouragement of our wonderful community of online (and in person) artists who have supported me through my questioning, frustration, and struggles I seem to have found my way.
I wrote in my journal about the year past (not shown), and more or less doodled my goals for the new year, appropriate since they’re all about being more playful and in the moment. Being in that doodling, right-brained place, I wrote “goles” and thought wait, that’s wrong, tried golse, wrong, is it golze? No! Oh yeah, GOALS! Sheesh! I used to be a champion speller.
I want to be a more analog* person in 2011, less digital*. I want to move my body, not my mouse; I want to draw and paint with intention, a sense of adventure, and playfulness; I will spend less time on the computer. I want to slow down and appreciate each moment instead of rushing because “there’s not enough time.”
I want to experience the feeling of abundance that comes from “enough-ness” which you get by wanting what you have and not wanting what you don’t have. And I will practice being gentle: to myself, the earth, and others.
*Analog vs. digital makes sense to me, but technically really doesn’t in this context:
Analog describes a continuous system like a clock in which the hands move continuously around the face. Such a clock is capable of indicating every possible time of day. In general, humans experience the world analogically. Vision is an analog experience because we perceive infinitely smooth gradations of shapes and colors.
In contrast, a digital clock is capable of representing only a finite number of times (every tenth of a second, for example). Computers are digital because they consist of discrete units, a series of zeroes and ones, called bits that are either on or off. (from Webopedia).
There’s something about this sketch that really says winter in Northern California to me: bundled up, boots on, bare trees out the window, and a sense of quiet.
Now that I only work in the office two days a week I have fewer opportunities for sketching on my 13 minute subway ride but always enjoy the adventure of trying to sketch someone, not knowing if they’ll get off in a minute at the next stop.
Yesterday, despite feeling otherwise perfectly fine, my nose turned into a broken faucet that wouldn’t stop running. I was trying to paint and it was becoming impossible to work for more than a few seconds without sneezing, wiping, or blowing my nose.
Necessity is the mother of invention: the only solution was to stop the flow. So I made little nose “tampons” by tearing a sheet of Kleenex into about thirds and then folded and rolled it into a size that would fit my nostrils and I was set. I could paint for at least 10 minutes before it was time to replace the nose-pons.
Today it’s turned into a real cold with the full range of symptoms which is sad because it’s a rare sunny day and I’d planned to paint outdoors. Instead I’ll be indoors bundled up, drinking tea and chicken soup.
Jana Bouc, Artist 