Buttnekkiddoodles

 
Just as one would hope to capture the essential features of a car, or tree, building, baseball stadium, or someone’s home such that they could be identified by a person who hadn’t been present when the artist drew said thing, I try to “get essential features” of the people I draw, when out and about, so that you might gather important info about them. What I think of as “capturing fleeting expressions“ or “capturing the ephemeral”.

Maybe you sense gender, have a rough estimate of age, hair texture, ethnicity, or race. That they aren’t just a template, a simplified symbol for a human. Will I be able to set features and the ‘structures beneath their skin’ that their individuality might be evident and their identity known? And if I have even a modicum of time, can I give indications that they are cognizant, sentient people with expressions that give outward evidence of emotional states of ….say stress, anger, surprise, delight, or that they are concentrating, focusing, in the act of speaking, perhaps listening. Can I capture a sign they are thinking?

I’ve always done better when there were lots of features such as mustaches, wrinkles and weathered faces, prominent noses, or unusual hairstyle, less so if someone had simple features, smooth skin, button noses. Hence young children and babies vexed me. Young women were much more difficult than old geezers. With years of practice and concentrating on the goals stated above I’ve made strides, but them dang young kids still expose some of my shortcomings.

However, last week, on a crowded #22 CTA bus, I managed to get a young child taking a snooze in a stroller that surpassed the majority of years of attempts. There’s still hope for yer Uncle Darn.

 
Now I’m not sure of the source of this eye gouging coat, but I was sketching someone else when I happened to turn and see her wrapped like a chevroned cocoon. Jumped subject’s immediately and drew what just might have been the striped tail from a very, very large Coatimundi.
Fountain pen and Pitt Artist Pens on Tomoe River Paper.

 
Went to The Music Box Sunday night with GBabe and two Italian friends to see L’Inferno 1911. The first Italian film three years in the making that was released in March 1911 and directed by Francesco Bertolini, Adolfo Padovan, and Giuseppe de Liguoro. The viewing at glamorous The Music Box Theater was set to a live musical performance with soundtrack by Maestro Stefano Maccagno who also played the keyboards and bassist Furio di Castri as part of the Chicago International Film Festival in collaboration with the Italian Cultural Institute of Chicago. I grabbed a quick sketch of audience members before the lights went down and later ad libbed King Minos and Charon into the sketch. Jaw dropping in it’s visualization of the first canticle of Dante’s Divine Comedy, and so wonderful in the low tech pre CGI effects such as Lake Cocytus, the frozen lake of the ninth circle, where those who committed treachery against God are punished. (The lake itself was formed from the tears of Lucifer, and the flapping of his wings kept it frozen.)
A fantastic cinematic event, it will be performed again in the Chicago area. Don’t miss it!
The dialogue of the two begin,
Man in hat,”Madonna! Italiani dappertutto!”
Her, “Tra il pubblico?”
Him,”No! Tra I dannati!”
Again, catch this influential masterpiece.
fountain pen and Pitt Artist Pens on mulberry paper in handmade sketchbook

 
Grabbed a sketch between bites.

Drawn at Cupitol with fountain pen and Pitt Artist Pens on a Stillman & Birn sketchbook.

Latest installment from the graphic novella The Java Knot. “So, it’s more than a habit… this pull to draw out in public. I don’t bring a book to read, I’m too fidgety for that. I’d rather check out my surroundings. Mostly, if honesty overtakes me, I prefer to watch people. Closely. Some would call it staring. But that sounds too passive to me. I go over them like an eagle casing the river below, looking for movement beneath the surface. Trying at times to understand the substructure of cheek bones, jaw muscles, the coordination of a hand’s architecture as it returns coffee cup to saucer then glides to flip the page of a book. But I also watch, as if, like the eagle’s penetrating glare beneath the waves, I can sense a current of thought. Knit brows, pinching lips, the coordinated grip of the masseter and temporalis muscles setting molars firmly into their opposing cousins. Frustration? Displeasure? Disapproval? Disgust? And will my drawings capture a fleeting moment of unguarded commentary, which, if elusive to presumptuous certainty, feels as though I’m now driving the streets of that someone’s neighborhood.
I sauntered to my recently favored cafe to find an interesting looking gent, with long uncoiling ringlets of Grey hair, seated curbside at a table, both hands occupied, one with coffee, the other with cellphone. I seated myself at an adjacent table such that we were facing each other, if obliquely. He no sooner placed his cup, empty, upon the table than the waitress appeared from within the shop and replaced the depleted cup with a full one. ‘Keep ‘em coming?’ she asked. ‘Keep ‘em coming’, he said. She turned directly to me, and asked my pleasure as I pulled sketchbook and pens from my satchel. Hot cocoa, bitter, no whip.
About then, a bicyclist coming up the street, glided along side the curb, slowed, nearly stopping beside the gent working his second cup, deftly laying an envelop on the table before him, and continued on. No exchange of words, nor looks. No nod. As I opened my sketchbook to a fresh page with little fanfare, the envelope slid into his jacket in like fashion with the hand returning to cradle the cup. His heavy lidded eyes never wandered from the cell’s screen.
I had payed little attention to the parking meter directly behind him, but as I began laying in the preliminary lines of his head, torso, the table and meter, I was amused to see the words PAY HERE backing his right arm. The very arm which had retrieved the envelope as if an extension of the meter.”

Drawn with Faber-Castell Pitt Artist Pens and fountain pen on Stillman & Birn Beta Series sketchbook.