Drawing August 2024 proceeds apace.
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| blueberries in fluted glass |
There is a special nugget of gratitude in my heart for the creators and encouragers of the annual twitter event that I took a first wobbly crack at in 2014.
Drawing every day for a month did not come naturally; during decades as a photographer I never considered myself a draw-er. But now Drawing August is folded effortlessly into what became, on 1 January 2018, my Daily Markmaking practice. 2024 is my 7th year of continuous Daily Markmaking, and it's been a discipline and a respite and an anchor.
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| from Petrie's photograph of an alabaster vessel fragment, tomb of Amenhotep III |
And fun. Even the night last week when, just as I reached for the sketchbook, the power went out during yet another storm. On my laptop screen was a photograph I had intended to use as the basis for a line drawing: a salt print of the Temple at Dendur taken in 1851. In situ; way back before the temple ended up in New York City.
When the power went out there was just enough of a glow from the laptop screen that drawing seemed possible, but when I started with my micron pen, I could barely see the lines. So I fumbled around in the dark for my one felt-tip drawing pen and eventually found it in the third of the three bean cans that hold my pencils, pens, and brushes. (In case you think there is one can for each category, I can only say that would make a lot of sense.)
Anyway, the fat line of felt-tip was much more visible, so at least there was something on the paper, even if not the detailed line drawing as planned.
So far there have only been two or three days in August when the weather made outdoor markmaking a good idea. Or even a do-able idea. Those opportunities have not been squandered. I've put a little temporary screen tent "studio" on the deck of the former barn, and of course there are trees in every direction so plenty of inspiration. Some of the trees have been sketched multiple times over the years, from different vantage points. Sometimes I think a person could draw from the same tree every day for a lifetime, and never be finished. Or unchallenged.
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| massive red oak |
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