ceiling of a coffeeshop in the Jordaan, Amsterdam"To finish the moment, to find the journey’s end in every step of the road, to live the greatest number of good hours, is wisdom."— Ralph Waldo Emerson, Experience, from Essays: Second SeriesHere is a holiday which, more than most, seems to engender feelings of ambivalence (in the… Continue reading 14 February
For any Brooklynites out there who feel an occasional pang of disdain toward that slender, sometimes tiresome island across the river, this one's for you; it's a gicleé print on 8" x 10"— ready to go into a frame immediately. I've also reprised my darling, dear, disaffected Mythologicals series from 2005 into 8" x 10" prints, and… Continue reading “Work Island” and the Mythologicals have been added to Etsy
Another wintry evening spent with J, A, and the chickens. We made turkey pot pies from scratch and did loads of blind contour drawings, of one another and of things around the room, finishing them with watercolor. Above is one of J, looking rather exploded. More after the jump. And here is TL, after Z… Continue reading blind contour and watercolors
The continued accumulation of snow and cold gives an indication why Imbolc is one of the Celtic fire festivals. Ostensibly marking the annual alteration of the Goddess from the crone back into the maiden, this year she seems to’ve returned in the form of the Snow Queen instead. Had a lovely walk through Prospect Park… Continue reading Imbolc’s capricious concoction of fanciful confections
Well this one turned out better, though my markers are running out at this point. Due for a visit to Blick. His face is rather less long and narrow than in the tintype I referenced, and his body slightly more awkward; diminished— but I like the effect. He looks terrifically in earnest. (I realized part… Continue reading Man with a mustache
Another study, using markers, from an old photograph. Not as successful, nor as interesting as yesterday's, but the point of studies is practice, not perfection.
Started a pencil portrait study on the weekend, but I wanted to do some fast and loose work to get back into the swing of drawing, so markers and Moleskine tonight, and my collection of Victorian and Edwardian era portraits. This is a cropped photo from my phone taken about midway through. Full finished study… Continue reading a new portrait study
This delicate little thing was found on the Farm by my mother, and she of course saved it for my collection. Can't be quite sure what sort of bird it's from; a long, slender beak may speak to the anatomy of a Starling, but it seems a bit small. Whatever it was, it casts quite… Continue reading Another bone box
Curious, that what begat my happiest epoch to date was the bloody, shredding removal of a Cupid’s dart. Or, no— it was the eventual and, sad, timely falling of Damocles’ sword. At any rate, it was something dramatic and mythic, as such things are wont to be; must be, because we’re human, and we love*.… Continue reading Being stardust is dancing with gratitude— that’s what discoballs are about, and this is a love note to everything in dour Winter
I'm not sure when snowstorms became a thing to be numbered— they were fairly common as I grew up; happened rather regularly Upstate; had no names. Nonetheless, they do feel more fierce now than they did then. Then they were just snowfalls. Led to jolly fort-making or sledding. It all reminds me of Moominvalley, my… Continue reading Second storm of our current winter
e daggar art: THE MUSEUM 