The morning sun hit the kids’ holey socks. They now wipe off the the pens after refills.
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Yesterday, yodeling yaks yarned yellow yo-yo’s yodeling youthful yelps to yonder yugoslav yearlings.
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Xeruses xylographed xenogenetic xeranthemum xeriscapes.
The kids found my typewriter under my desk. I bought it for writing the text in my grad school portfolio.
She had fun and he loves banging those keys.
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Weepy weevils wailed wheezy whines of wiley weasels waylaying waltzing whales within woven woodbine webs.
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Vibrant vultures vanished vulgar violet vampires via victorious vats of viscous vaporizing vegetable vinegar varnishes.
A lovely cool sunset after a weekend of heavy rains in the desert. The kids were drawing a highway for a rollypolly.
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The Liszt transcription of Beethoven’s Fifth, played by Glenn Gould.
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Uniformed unicorns uncovered uncouth unagi underwriters under unruly Union University.
The boy wanted to paint the Scarbunny Pokémon so I drew one for him on watercolor paper.
She wanted one too so I pulled out my rarely used light table, traced it, and let them loose with watercolors.
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Timid tarsiers triumphantly trapped ten tetradactyls, toppling their treacherous tyranny.
Last month, Hurricane Hillary slowly worked its way up from Mexico, prompting warning texts from from NOA. The boy kept asking about when the flood was going to hit. We explained that floods are bad events, but that couldn’t dampen his excitement.
Turned out to be a minor event. We got a little rain on Friday afternoon which led to a massive double rainbow during the golden hour.
We finally got our heavy rains and street flooding a week later — from a storm that had no name.
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Silly skalds softly sang seven sympathetic sonatas stoutly skewering sixteen sadisistic satraps.
My rediscovery of fountain pens has resulted in a more purchases. The hedonic treadmill led from cheap flexible nibs to boutique inks and now better paper. Ironically, the photo below shows drawings with decades old ink, but on a fresh Rhodia pad. And yes, it’s a world of difference from the cheap Office Depot steno pads I’ve been using.
Along the way I’ve also discovered Pinterest after being nudged by some folks on Substack. It’s an amazing place for reference imagery (duh!). I had assumed that Instagram would be the place for such a library, but Meta has turned their place into a video service.
Here’s to new (and old) tools, toys, and platforms.
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Rational raccoons rashly rationed reimbursements remonstrating reckless rabbits rearing rough rascals.
On our way home from San Diego, we checked out the dying outlet mall at Primm. The adjoining casino is trying to revive it by making the cavernous space a huge mural gallery.
There were a couple claw machines at one end of the concourse. After watching Toy Story, they begged to try it out. I told them to not expect anything.
We had one dollar.
We got lucky.
This is a $200 drawing, the most expensive that I’ve made.
Late last year, I started sketching again, drawing the letters of the alphabet in my steno notepad. After drawing the “R” at the top, I tried again on decent paper, splashing an ink wash. It blew my mind that this could come from my hand.
It kept me drawing. Half a year later, I found Ashlyn Antsee’s series on fountain pens and bought a mix of nibs and new inks…and I plan on upgrading from the cheap Office Depot steno pads.
It’s a fuzzy line between art, consumerism, and privilege. I’m grateful that it’s no big deal for us to buy fancy drawing supplies.
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Imperfections and All
I quit drawing twenty years ago because of the anxiety about the fidelity between the image and reality.
I would feel a panic attack in my throat when the image went off script and I knew I wasn’t going to spend the hours to make it perfect.
A few years ago I had accepted the hard fact that I would never draw again, like I will never take the time become literate in Chinese.
Last November, I started sketching again because I wanted to see more drawings on Post and Tara Trudel encouraged us to share our work.
It became a drawing habit by quietly following the 30 day challenge on Wendy MacNaughton’s Substack.
Now I’m drawing cause I enjoy it.
I know I’ve hit the flow when a deep breath exhales from my lungs. These 10 minute hand sketches have become a daily meditation.
They’re not perfect. They’re not even great (look at the all amazing hands on Pinterest!) But they’re mine and I’m an indulgent judge when I’m not worried about what other people might think.
Like my kids, I’ve learned to proudly marvel at the stuff that comes from my own hand. Imperfections and all.
2023 -
Quisling quails queried Qoholet for a quetzal quintet quoting Queen.
We spent the a day at the New Children’s Museum in San Diego, filled with cool installation pieces. The highlight is Whammock! by Toshiko Horiuchi MacAdam.
Last time we went was before the pandemic, when the boy was 18 months old. He’s now her age then. He took to this piece like a fish in water. Life took a long pause but kept moving regardless.
