Claus Oldenburg’s metal & wood glove and ball, a first baseman’s mitt if we’re to be exact, in the grand atrium at the magnificent Cleveland Museum of Art. A huge and rewarding collection with prime examples of the work of the artist in the collection. Superb building and facilities.
Faber-Castell Pitt Artist Pens on a Rhodia unlined notebook.
Continuing a craft she learned thru her mom, Rosanna, Giamila has been running a serious ‘Knitting Fever’. This last year has been super stressful and the craft of knitting appears to be of great value in managing anxiety. I bear the fruits of Giamila’s psychologically beneficial handiwork. A scarf, a zip up cardigan, woolen fingerless mittens, a ski cap and a second Wool cardigan sweater.
just sitting at home, reading the day to day graphic charts of pandemic deaths, economic misery, job losses, and the political tug-of-war over how to manage either the response or the spin of the grim facts, and feeling shut in, cut off, not to mention even if you are holding on to a job the adjustment to the new bureaucratic methodologies and their technical learning curves and snafus is a campaign of emotional attrition. The simple, ‘do something’ zen of making something useful, something beautiful, for a loved one, is a grounding, positive activity with visible benefits to one’s sanity. I then wear this garment of love. A cloak against the feeling of separation or hopelessness.
Late night and wearing the first sweater Giamila knit for me as well as woolen house slippers and cotton skull cap knit for me by her mother Rosanna. Drawn with fountain pens and Faber-Castell Pitt Artist Pens on a Stillman & Birn Gamma Series 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.
I was at the Evanston Farmers Market early Saturday morning sketching Nice Guy Nick at Henry’s Organic Farm stall when I heard whooping and the sound of a large party hitting stride. A PA system started playing Ring Of Fire by Johnny Cash very loud. I had an inkling but asked Nice Guy Nick what the commotion was about. He only said “Well, given the current situation…”pulled out his cell and sure enough, Biden had just been declared the winner. The jubilant sounds spread, cars started honking in all directions. On the way back to my apartment a car eased by horn a-honking with the American flag held aloft from one window and the flag of Chicago out the other. Rode the train downtown to Giamila’s and the celebration continues. Now, waiting till the keys to the White House are handed over.
Drawn with Faber-Castell Essentio Black Leather fountain pen and Pitt Artist Pens on Stillman & Birn Gamma Series sketchbook.
Almost at the end of the season for most vendors at the Evanston Farmers Market. Gotta B Crepes got slammed with devoted customers on their finale day till the state of Illinois lifts the ban on indoor seating. they’ll take a vacation till the COVID-19 infection rates drops and Gov. Pritzker lifts the order.
Nice Guy Nick said Henry’s Farm has another week in Evanston.
I used Faber-Castell Pitt Artist Pens, an F-C Essentio and Graf von Faber fountain pen on a Clairefontaine Stillman & Birn Beta Series Watercolour sketchbook.
