Perhaps one of the most anticipated and auspicious days of my year is the 12 hour life drawing marathon at The Palette & Chisel on Labor Day. Though I am 63 years old and have had a number of jobs over the years that were not based on the semester structure of schools, the hangover of all that early life preparation, and the change of seasons, still creates this sense for me of new possibilities. Thus, when others look to take the day off from the grind, I look to put in one of my longer days working towards the betterment of my craft.
The sessions start at 7am with a model in the third floor studio, and later, models may be posing on the second floor and out in the coach house. Forty-five minutes to an hour are set aside for lunch out in the courtyard, but then I head back upstairs till the sessions conclude at 7pm. On average, I show up at 7:30-8 in the morning and last till 6:30-7 at night. If I get in some sketching on the 40 minute train ride to the Palette & Chisel, that serves to warm me up and gives me a sense of what the day’s efforts may yield.
 
 
 
 
Fountain pens, Platinum Carbon ink, Pitt Artist Pens, Tomoe River Paper, ledgerbook.
A view of the Virginia Piedmontese from Thomas Jefferson’s home at Monticello. Â Returned to my mother’s birthplace outside Charlottesville, Va for a family reunion and visited Monticello for the first time. This chimney is the remains of the joinery workshop on the estate of Monticello. Here master craftsman James Dinsmore fashioned much of the woodworking and furniture at Jefferson’s home along with the principle assistant, enslaved artisan John Hemings, brother to Sally Hemings, the enslaved woman who bore Thomas Jefferson a number of children.
View of The Rotunda from The Lawn of UVa.
Top drawing done with Faber-Castell Pitt Artist Pens in a Tomoe River Paper sketchbook. Bottom drawing, F-C PAP in an old ledger book.
After a family reunion in Charlottesville, I rode Amtrak to Philadelphia. I think I drew the City Hall tower once before but no idea where that drawing is.
Got in a brief neck-craning sketch of the Philadelphia City Hall tower. The largest city hall in the country btw. And then as I walked through the outside passageway, I took up a position behind a young man playing the violin. Samuel noticed I was sketching him and told me he is learning on his own as he is no longer taking lessons. He also stated he was delightedly surprised to see I in fact got him playing southpaw, which he is. Normally, he has been drawn as a righty. Whaa…? Play on brother.
Pitt Pens in a Stillman & Birn Gamma series sketchbook.
Once more into the breach! Memorial Day. A sober day of remembrance of and for those who sacrificed for a higher goal. Devotion. I’ve spent that day for the last 15 Â years at the Palette & Chisel Art Center’s 12 hour Life Drawing Marathon, drawing nude women and men, of all shapes, sizes, persuasions, and color, along side artist of similar variety, grateful that I live in a society that has made an effort that we may openly practice the arts and sciences. That the study of the human body can be conducted without shame. That I am in a room peopled by members of my society that decades ago, would not have been able to share this moment, openly practice this craft together, or use the same restroom. Unfortunately, that privilege cost people their lives.
Just this week, two people died in an attack on a Portland public light rail. They died defending the civic and human rights politicians are quick to extoll, one of them was a veteran. A white racist suprematist murdered them when they stuck up for two teenage girls he was verbally assaulting for living in “his” country.
It’s simple thing I do on this special day. I devote myself to a craft I believe in. A craft practiced by millions and millions over the centuries. One that has educated, enlightened, informed, delighted, challenged, inspired, carried meaning and understanding into the future that we may know something of who we were and are. A craft that some have been punished for having the temerity to express new or differing ideas from those who would venture off the well worn path. Some of their efforts were hidden, burned, destroyed. Some of those who practiced were themselves blacklisted, banished, excommunicated, and murdered.
All I do is draw. To me, the craft does demand devotion. And sacrifice, and tho it hasn’t yet cost me my life, there are those for who the sacrifice proved too much. For me, it has been sustaining and has delivered much more to my life than the considerable amount it has required. I love doing it and am grateful that I have been supported in my pursuit first by my parents, and then by boatloads of people, some teachers, some friends and peers, collectors and patrons, and even scores whom I have yet to meet.
I don’t take it lightly that I can so very casually traipse out the door, sketchbook in hand and draw, my society, and the privileges it enjoys. Thanks to those who have given so much that we may have so much. We may still have a ways to go to live up to our inalienable rights, and full equality, and incidents just as that which occurred in Portland show that we live among those who would resist the promise of this country’s Constitution and history, but I sit on that wooden horse in that studio, surrounded by 30 odd people, open my sketchbook, and on that day, as with every day in the year, I am truly thankful to enjoy what so many have worked and sacrificed for. My mother would have echoed that sentiment with, “Amen”.
 
 
 
 
 
