Monday, December 31, 2012
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Bluecanvas 14
Happy to have six drawings and an interview in Bluecanvas 14. As usual, this issue's a great mix, including James Gurney, Robh Ruppel, and Aaron Smith. At Barnes & Noble and other newsstands now, and available shortly from Bluecanvas.com. My thanks to Nozomi Ficklin and all at Bluecanvas.
Labels:
Drawings,
Interviews,
Publications,
Published Work,
Updates
Saturday, December 22, 2012
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Morning Bell at Redbubble
Pleased to learn my drawing 'Morning Bell' is included in Redbubble's homepage features today. Cards and prints are available.
Labels:
Drawings,
Greeting Cards,
postcards,
Prints,
RedBubble
Saturday, December 15, 2012
Small Good Things
Yesterday was a horror. I’d been a little concerned that someone might attempt an incident at an opening of The Hobbit somewhere. I never imagined anything like this massacre of children. A day ago it was unthinkable. Now it’s not. What’s next. God help us.
That’s not a figure of speech. It’s a fervent prayer.
Yesterday was the kind of day that makes those of us who are artists, writers, etc question the worth of our work. Me, anyway. Whatever tiny bits of art or entertainment I might contribute to the world seem insignificant, useless in the face of this kind of darkness. But this morning it seems to me that trying to make something beautiful or calming or inspiring of wonderment or whatever- all those things I try for- is more important than ever. So many people seem bent on darkness. Me I like light. I can make only little tiny bits. I’ve no illusions of great import. But we must keep trying to make what we can. If we despair, if we stop, darkness wins. Can’t allow that.
If you believe in prayer, keep all those who’re grieving and devastated in yours. Most of us will get on with our lives today. I’m grateful for mine this morning, for all the small good things. Because days like yesterday remind us: No good thing is small. And the big ones: No one’s shot me. No one’s shot a child or a woman I love. I’ve been given another day to do what I will with. Likely no big thing. But however small, I’m going to do something good.
That’s not a figure of speech. It’s a fervent prayer.
Yesterday was the kind of day that makes those of us who are artists, writers, etc question the worth of our work. Me, anyway. Whatever tiny bits of art or entertainment I might contribute to the world seem insignificant, useless in the face of this kind of darkness. But this morning it seems to me that trying to make something beautiful or calming or inspiring of wonderment or whatever- all those things I try for- is more important than ever. So many people seem bent on darkness. Me I like light. I can make only little tiny bits. I’ve no illusions of great import. But we must keep trying to make what we can. If we despair, if we stop, darkness wins. Can’t allow that.
If you believe in prayer, keep all those who’re grieving and devastated in yours. Most of us will get on with our lives today. I’m grateful for mine this morning, for all the small good things. Because days like yesterday remind us: No good thing is small. And the big ones: No one’s shot me. No one’s shot a child or a woman I love. I’ve been given another day to do what I will with. Likely no big thing. But however small, I’m going to do something good.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Cutting Room Floor
I nearly always draw more than makes the cut. Here's a raw in-progress scan of my charcoal & graphite drawing The Night Watchman's Garden, uncropped.
Below, an enlargement of the composition I settled on, cropped and finished. Actual size is 2 1/4" x 3 5/16". The original is available. If you're interested, email or message me.
Below, an enlargement of the composition I settled on, cropped and finished. Actual size is 2 1/4" x 3 5/16". The original is available. If you're interested, email or message me.
Labels:
Details,
Drawings,
Enlargements,
Process,
Writing On Drawing
Saturday, December 01, 2012
Mystery
photo: Maciej Sokolowski |
In a corner of a neighbor’s land too stony to till Cob makes a mystery. The small pines are budding, and today he brings an armload of stakes, pocketfuls of baling twine, soft rags to keep the bound seedlings from wind-chafing. For a moment Cob imagines a far-off summer day, a child smiling, wondering. With his good stone he sharpens his shears to a bright new edge, begins pruning.
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