“Stuart could not believe his luck. At a time when he most needed to hide (in plain sight, no less) from his enemies & the authorities (the lazier & clumsier of the two), the pandemic & the obliging mandates kept him masked up & out in public.
Unable to pull a Ted Kaczynski in a rustic hideout dug into the cleavage of some red neck mountain range, too vain to forego Michelin star meals & haute couture tailoring, & too claustrophobic to hunker down for endless months in an apartment dependent on the lowest common denominator of restaurants willing to home deliver; he would live a near normal life behind a face cape, exposed just nose bridge to brow.
Among the upscale streets of Chitown’s Gold Coast & Mag Mile, where you’re likely to trip over an august geezer draped in the showroom offerings of Armani, Tom Ford, Prada, or Zegna & topped with $2,000 Optimo fedoras, he could venture out daily. Even talk to strangers, in between sneaking sips of espresso at any of the dozen cafes he treasured.
But today, at perhaps his preferred roastery, something of note, a troubling note, occurred. He caught the eye of an artist. A capable one with a penchant for detail. Not only had Stuart been captured in his favorite fedora, standing at the marble & tile counter, thereby giving a close approximation of his height, the background drawing pegged him in the exact cafe. One head study didn’t suffice, the page contained three. Matters were made more grave as two head studies of him, a profile of his left side, & a 3/4 rear view of his right, contained explicit features. A mole just behind & beneath his right ear was cause for concern enough, though men of his age were polka dotted with warts & moles & and garlands of age spots. It was the left profile that froze Stuart. There, in the middle of his head, acting as an anchor to the black mask he depended on to protect his identity, was his large ear. The one with the lobe that had been split when a diamond earring had been ripped by a thug sent to collect on a debt. That memento to reckless behavior had been left unrepaired. As a reminder. Now, it spoke to him again.
“I don’t mean to intrude, but you are very talented.” Stuart infused his words with just enough grace.
“Oh, thank you.”
“Do you do that for a living?”
“Well, not much of one, but, yes.”
“What do you do with your drawings?”
“These? I usually just post ‘em online.”
The artist’s hand hadn’t stopped.
“Do you ever sell them? I should like to buy that one in particular. It’s quite….arresting.”
“Well, I usually don’t sell these as they’re drawn on both sides of the page.” The page was flipped to show another cafe scene. “Plus”, he said looking up from the book,”I’m going to publish these soon. So, I’m holding onto all of these till the book designer & I make the final selection.”
Stuart’s emotions were as Grey as his eyes.
Something would have to be done about the sketch, or, the sketcher. Should he post his handiwork, it would draw the unerring eye of his pursuers.
Drawn on a #stillmanandbirn sketchbook with fountain pen and Pitt Artist Pens.
The G Babe and I stepped into Tortello on Division for to have some fresh hand made pasta for lunch. The fennel, celery & orange salad started things off with a delicate yet tangy bounce in the mouth. Nice. Next up, the pappardelle with a duck ragu. Pa-POW!!!! Get some. You’ll be glad you did.
In between courses, which came quickly, and between bites, which I managed as slow and purposefully as possible, I drew the ceiling hung motor scooter from underdaneath. Concluded with a proper espresso and a tiramisu that was nothing short of a party in the mouth. Props to my man Dario Monni, owner and bon vivant on board. Cíao. www.tortellopasta.com
Fountain pen and Pitt Artist Pens on a Stillman & Birn Delta sketchbook.
Had a one-on-one teaching session at the Field Museum yesterday. What with the downpour, it was a perfect day to spend drawing among the incredible dioramas and collection on a crowd free day. We parked ourselves by wading birds for most of the lesson. This little beauty is a Least Bittern (Ixobrychus exilis), smallest of the Ardeidae family which includes cranes, egrets, and herons. Unlike their larger cousins the herons, which nest in trees, these stealthy rascals nest among the reeds. I’ve seen these patient avians on the prowl at the edge of the pond by the Farm At The Zoo in Lincoln Park. My drawing is most likely a female, the one I saw had a greenish back which I believe is the coloration of the males. But don’t go by me, ask the good folks at the Field Museum next time you’re there drawing. They can be heard making a soft cooing sound (the birds, not the museum staff) early in the day and around dusk and have lovely plumage with a fluffy breast. The satiny sheen on which was part of my lesson where I emphasized awareness of light source and how highlights, shadow, and directional marks help describe form and volume. Perched atop legs scrawnier than mine, with long boney toes tipped with toenails long overdue for a clipping they may at first glance appear petite and bit awkward. But trust me, watch them for a while, they are a study in grace and cocked threat. With chopsticks for lips in constant dine mode; what frogs, fish and small critters won’t live long enough to tell you….these babies are Killers!
I’ve also included a couple quick demo pages I did while explaining my process. Guess you had to be there…
Drawn with fountain pen & Pitt Artist Pens on a Stillman & Birn Delta sketchbook. If interested in one-on-one classes or online/in person group sessions, contact me by leaving a message here or thru email – doc51854@gmail.com.
Shot over to my local Rx to get the booster and hopefully final jab of my triad of COVID-19 vaccinations. She who wielded the needle was an ace with the hypo. Bela Lugosi himself couldn’t have delivered a more subtle nip.
While I waited out any allergic keel over, I went about finishing a sketch I had begun while awaiting my turn for the needle.
In came a gent in heavy garments suitable for a day 35 degrees cooler. As he bent to settle into the chair next to me he let rip a sonic boom from his intestinal bellows. Make yer self comfortable my brother. Fortunately, those heavy layers created a baffled terrarium that only allowed the aural signature of flatulence to escape. Unmasked he was quickly reminded to do so by the pharmacy staff. Up he got and to the window he went. “Miss?! Excuse me. Miss?”
“Please have a seat. We’ll be right with you.”
He returned and resettled only to get up within a few breaths to again glide to the counter and ask for attention.
This time a staff member engaged him and tried to get some pertinent info from him, in particular where he was currently residing. Info uncertain, he reseats himself. Rose to give a different address.
He is told his medication isn’t prepared, please be seated and we’ll call you when it is.
“How long will that be?” Told, he said he would wait outside and be back shortly.
Health professionals have to deal with a very wide range of needs and conditions. I want a system that can. And I neither want nor support a system incapable of meeting those in need irrespective of their circumstances or ability to pay. This, to me, is a hallmark of a ‘healthy’ society.
The resources necessary to develop and maintain a strong, highly capable system of research and healthcare should be a top priority of any society or country that proclaims itself to be advanced, caring, a champion of freedom, liberty, defenders of its citizens. I want the country of my birth, citizenship, that I live in, to provide care for a human being in medical or psychological need and to get that care regardless of their ability to pay for it. It’s called infrastructure. It creates cohesion. It is an important measure of our capability and greatness. I will be posting this on several FB sites. Some may remove it because it violates their notion of political statement. So be it. I will mention those sites that do, and why I feel that my statements constitute reportage in which image and text give fuller understanding of the dynamics observed and clarification of that perspective.
Drawn with a Faber-Castell Black Leather Essentio fountain pen and Pitt Artist Pens on a Stillman & Birn Delta sketchbook.
