Back from New Zealand and Filling the Well

 

Auckland, New Zealand and the 40-storey high rise
I called home for six weeks. Waving from Floor 24! 

Hello, Everyone! I'm finally back in Albuquerque and the high desert after six amazing weeks staying ("luxuriating" might be the better term) in downtown Auckland, NZ.

Until today, I haven't blogged for weeks. Months. It wasn't intentional. Before I left home I had all kinds of sincere plans to keep posting and sharing my life down under, but the truth is that after only a few days in my lovely apartment I decided I was on vacation. 

Instead of blogging--or any other kind of writing for that matter--I spent my time visiting wonderful friends, going to the movies, shopping at every bookstore I could find (I ended up bringing home a total of ten paperbacks. "Heavy" doesn't begin to describe my carry-on load.), eating at incredible restaurants (NZ food is still the best in the world), exploring Auckland's very clean and very green neighborhoods, and yes, sketching every chance I could with a small watercolor set I bought at the art museum. 

The sketchbook I used was one I found in a great little stationery store called Typo which appealed to me not just because of the name, but for what they carried, too. I managed to fill the entire book with my impressions including a day trip to Bethell's Beach (my husband's favorite childhood hang-out) where some Buddhist monks were also admiring the scenery.

Just a few miles outside of downtown . . .

I couldn't eat of enough of these.

Rain or shine, I never tired of the view.

 

A long time ago--decades ago--Auckland was home. New Zealand is where I finished high school, attended the university, got my first job, and most especially, it's where I met my husband. It's also where I became deeply influenced by the country's art--especially ceramics--as well as the literature, music, film making, and overall sense of "do-it-yourself." When I stop to think about it, I really have to say that without New Zealand there's no "me," nor is there any of my writing starting with my YA novel Better Than Perfect set in suburban Auckland. Without New Zealand, I don't think I would ever have ventured into art, beading, and pottery. New Zealand set the stage for the rest of my life, even being the reason I ended up in Albuquerque thanks to my husband's own unique business brand originating in, where else, but New Zealand.

But regardless of the past and all it means to me, returning wasn't easy. I had been gone for a long time, and Auckland has changed so much it took me several confused weeks to even know where I was. One of the strangest things was I had completely forgotten that Auckland is built on a series of hills and that walking anywhere can often feel like mountain-climbing. More than once, puffing my way home with an armful of books and groceries, I couldn't help but marvel at how strong I must have been in the "old days." Not once as a student had I ever thought it was difficult, or unusual, to run up and down numerous ravines to get to a lecture or to meet with friends for lunch in the park.

Besides feeling that I was on some kind of endurance test just to buy a sandwich, I couldn't help but also feel a genuine sadness at how much of the past had disappeared. Beloved shops and buildings had not only been demolished, but the buildings and businesses replacing them were light years away from my memories. Where there had once been shops selling gumboots and sheepskins I now found Prada and Tiffany's, Dior and Ferrari. Very fancy, very international, but oh, how I longed for the innocence and simplicity of the past when we only had one television channel and talked all night over a jug of beer rather than cocktails. I hope I didn't become too boring with my constant questioning: "Where is . . .?" "When did they go out of business?" "Where can I get a lamington and an asparagus roll? You know, afternoon tea?" 

Oh, well. Enjoy the new and go with the flow. And I finally, after a lot of searching, did find a lamington during a visit to the sugar factory. Yum!

A difficult choice between raspberry or chocolate. 
Both with the obligatory cream and coconut.

To prove I did more than look for cake, here are some other highlights:

Loved taking the ferries to cross the harbor.

As well as the places the boats landed,
e.g., Waiheke Island for lunch.

Coming back to town. Queen Street view
from the Ferry Terminal (pictured below).

My daily route on the way to buy groceries,
books, and art supplies.

One of the many views from my living room: I never stepped
onto the balcony, not once!

Although I did sit close enough to the window to
sketch my cardigan drying in the sunlight.

Auckland University's "wedding cake" where
I spent four years studying Spanish Lit. and politics.
It's also where I was led to eventually meet my
literary mentor, the late author, Hugh Cook.

Auckland War Memorial Museum, always my "go to"
on a rainy day, both in the past and this visit too.

Because who can resist a Giant Moa?

Or a gaggle of kiwis? (Don't ask why they have
a ferret friend. I have no idea.)

The Maori displays at the museum were unfortunately closed
for renovation, but these carvings inside the Auckland Library were a
good compensation for what I missed.

As was this contemporary Maori sculpture
at the Auckland Art Gallery (below), two blocks from my apartment.

Rangitoto, Auckland's most scenic volcano.
Photo taken at Takapuna Beach only hours before
a cyclone hit.

Last view of the Sky Tower.
I'll be back!

As I mentioned at the beginning of this post, I had truly planned to continue blogging when I set out on my travels. I didn't mean to stop, or for so long, but I'm glad I did. Because, more than anything else, I needed a break--from everything. I needed a genuine vacation; a chance to rest, watch the sunrise, read, go slow and in particular: fill the well. New Zealand, even this modern, unfamiliar version, gave me that in bucket loads. I feel re-inspired to paint, design more jewelry, and to keep writing. More than anything, I feel inspired to meet the future, not just dwell on the past.

Tip of the Day: One of the things I love best about travel sketching is how easy, and quick, it is to capture mood and atmosphere for future writing. Whether it's laying down an abstract watercolor wash in neutral grays, or going for a more detailed study of the greens and blues of sea, sky, and land, there's something about the physical act of painting and/or drawing, especially with some accompanying notes to the page, that a photograph can never duplicate. On this particular trip, I deliberately left my usual sketch kit back in Albuquerque so that I could check out, and purchase, foreign supplies. It was a good decision and one I recommend to anyone else wanting to experiment with some sketching of their own. Best of all, now that I know where the art supply stores are, I'll know exactly where to go on my next visit!

Back from England, Part 2: Traveling with Makeshift, Limited, and Unexpectedly Good Art Supplies

Faversham: How could anyone not paint?

In today's post I want to talk about what I painted, why I painted, and how I managed with minimal art supplies during my recent multi-week trip to Faversham, Kent.

One of my main reasons for going to England was to experience what my daily life would be like if I chose to eventually live there, even if only part-time, and that would include maintaining my daily writing and painting routine. With that in mind, I made sure to bring a few supplies with me:

Limited, but enough to get me started.

1. One Bic mechanical pencil with replacement leads stored inside the barrel. While not the best pencils in the world, these cheap little Bics are great for travel. There's no need to bring a pencil sharpener and the removable eraser actually works.

2. My beloved Sailor Fude Pen. I can't go anywhere without this Japanese fountain pen originally designed for calligraphy. The unpredictable wackiness of the angled nib lends itself beautifully to what gives any sketch a strong sense of energy: the element of surprise. Together with the pen I also brought a box of black ink refill cartridges.

3. One white Gelly Roll pen. You never know when you need some highlights.

4. Three water brushes: one flat and two rounds. The beauty of water brushes is a) they're self-cleaning, and b) you never have to worry about bringing, or finding, water for painting when you're on location, inside or out. There's no need for jars or cups, and certainly no worries about spillage.

5. Two torchons: one large; one small. These rolled paper stumps are wonderful for blending pencil marks and creating shadows.

6. One Faber Castell kneadable eraser in a cute little box. I rarely use erasers for actual mark-removal, but they are super-useful in the same way the torchons come in handy.

7. Two binder clips. For holding down the pages of my sketchbook.

8. Viviva watercolor sheets. The absolute star of the show. I had never used these before, but so many people had recommended them so highly I thought they would be perfect for my trip. And they were. The "pamphlet-style" design took up no space whatsoever; the colors were intense and required only a tiny drop of water to activate; and they lasted for days--weeks! I didn't run out of paint until the very end of my trip, a full seven weeks.

Just add water!

9. My small but trusty I Love Cats zippered pouch. Super-lightweight, sturdy, and made from recycled plastic bottles, it held all of my travel art supplies with room to spare. It also let people know how much I love cats.

The only thing missing from this whole set-up was a sketchbook, a decision I made on purpose. Besides not wanting to carry the extra weight, I thought it would be fun to buy something in England to remember my trip. What I didn't know is I would end up buying five of them.

The first sketchbook I came across was a small mixed-media spiral-bound tablet made by a company in Dorset: Coffeenotes, named such because their products are manufactured from recycled coffee cups. I loved the size, the cream-colored paper, and especially the strength of the smooth-textured sheets that took watercolor without excessive buckling. I need more!

 

The next one I bought wasn't quite as unusual, but highly necessary: a Moleskine A4 landscape watercolor journal. I used it every day and night for the entire duration of my trip.

 

One small snafu I encountered in Faversham was the lack of dedicated art supply stores and I was lucky to find what I did at the local bookstore, Tales on Market St.

 

 

Despite the small amount of choice, I did manage to buy two more sketchbooks when I popped into a pop-up store at the 1697 gallery (really built in 1697). Handcrafted by a Faversham bookbinder, Bindfulness, there was no way I was going to pass up these unique and very special concertina books.

As if I didn't have enough paper already, I also unearthed a pad of the best, best kraft paper I have every found--in a discount general merchandise store of all places. Tucked away on a bottom shelf, I saw it while I was searching for dishwashing liquid. Finding art paper was much more exciting than the thought of doing dishes, and I couldn't believe the quality, or the low price of this incredible paper. Made in India, the thick, grainy texture has an old-world feel missing from much of the modern kraft or "bogus" paper sold here in the States, a texture I'm always in search of. After a few initial ink sketches, I used the bulk of the pad for black-and-white acrylic background studies, something I wasn't planning to do, but the paint was on a shelf above the paper and I thought, hmm, why not?

After I found paper and paint, I realized I could get all sorts of cheap but surprisingly good supplies at a variety of discount stores: children's gouache and oil pastels; a set of twenty-four watercolor brush pens; a package of three synthetic watercolor brushes; three house-painting brushes; and two throwaway fountain pens. The prices were excellent; I don't think I paid more than $20.00 for the whole bundle including the black and white acrylic paint, which meant that I used every purchase with reckless abandon--the exact way paint should always be used, regardless of price.

Added to my stash of store-bought supplies were the items I gathered on my daily walks and took home to use as impromptu art tools: sticks and stones, leaves and acorns, flower petals, tiny apples, and best of all: seagull feathers.

Not dinner.

Before leaving home I knew I wanted to take some kind of a drawing class during my stay, and the one I found, Mindful Drawing taught by Nicole Antras at Faversham's Creek Creative couldn't have been better.

Entrance to Creek Creative studios and art space. Cake and hot chocolate, too.

 

The class was only for a single Sunday morning, but I learned so much in a few short hours that I continued to use Nicole's techniques and advice for weeks after.

My Faversham mini-studio with a sample of my classwork.

Switching to drawing from painting sent me once again to the discount store (they were beginning to know me by now) for more supplies (yes, I have a problem): this time a spiral-bound pad of heavy-weight white drawing paper (technically the fifth sketchbook I bought) and a generic set of both graphite and color pencils that turned out to be as good, if not better, than fancy-brand pencils I've paid a fortune for in the past. Unfortunately I then had to buy a rather bulky pencil sharpener; so much for bringing my "convenient" Bic pencil from home.

Sketching, and especially painting, in the English climate definitely had its challenges, starting with the constant cold and damp preventing me from doing anything on site. Worse yet was trying to get my paint to dry, even when indoors. It was the same with my brushes; always wet and soggy no matter what I did.

I overcame the "can't draw outside" dilemma by doing my best to memorize colors and abstracted landscape features every time I went out walking, which was every day, and usually twice. As I walked I would also try to give what I was seeing an emotional context that I could explore once I got home. As soon as I got out of my coat, cardigan, scarf and gloves, I would immediately set to work in a sketchbook.

Watercolor brush pens in my Coffeenotes book.

Dark and gloomy. Sheer gothic joy!

At the end of the day I think I did pretty well with minimal supplies and a lot of improvisation; discovering that "makeshift" doesn't always mean "inferior," and in fact can be a high road into a myriad of creative possibilities. Every time I came across new and unexpected supplies I asked myself, "What if . . . ?" the same question I ask whenever I sit down to write, and my answers never disappointed me. Especially when those answers then turned me toward an entirely new direction: a brand new book manuscript inspired by my dark and stormy sketches.

And that's what I'll be covering in Post #3: Writing the Book I Wasn't Supposed to Write. (I tell you, I was busy in Faversham!) Until next time--

Tip of the Day: After buying all those pens and pencils I needed some extra storage and Faversham's numerous thrift stores were the perfect place to buy mugs, jugs, cups and trays for everything from mixing paint to holding brushes. I got what I needed within minutes of entering the stores, but there was one thing I totally overlooked and didn't think of until I was back in Albuquerque: buying art supplies in those same stores. It never occurred to me that thrift stores have art and craft sections and I bypassed what could have been some genuine opportunities. Next time that's precisely where I'll start first.

 

The 100 Day Project

India ink on gouache mono-print background.

Hello! It's been a while (months!) since my last post, but I've had a good excuse: starting in mid-February and finishing on Memorial Day, I went for:

#The100DayProject

Watercolor on pre-washed ink background.

100 days of super-fun, super-disciplined, and very consistent art practice which then, well, exhausted me. Because 100 days is a lot of days. But I had fun--I did!

Watercolor and ink diptych.

Anyone who has read some of my previous blog posts knows how much I enjoy themed challenges: NaNoWriMo, Inktober, even small 5-day personal project sprints, I have done them all. Usually these challenges have been built around an established goal such as writing 50K words in a month, or 31 days of ink drawing. The 100 Day Project was different in that it allowed room for participants to choose their own projects. For me this was the perfect time to work on the dozens of pre-painted backgrounds I had on the ready and stored away to finish "one day."

Something I do when I can't think of what to paint, or I don't feel particularly motivated, is to experiment with color. Whether I paint on individual sheets of watercolor paper or inside my sketchbook, I like to take bottled ink, watercolor, water-soluble graphite and/or watercolor crayons and just go for it, washing-in loose swaths of color, the looser the better. Not only is it restful to swish paint around without a goal in mind, but when the paint dries I then have a potential background for a more complete painting.

Watercolor on, um, watercolor!

The only drawback to this method is the backgrounds can easily add up to an unmanageable amount. Eventually I'm faced with the day when I have to realize: "One day" is NOW.

Mixed-media using so many things I don't remember them all.

And for the 100 Day Project, NOW brought with it much more than 100 days of using up pre-toned paper, including:

1. Just like when I first painted the backgrounds, I never really knew how I would finish each piece on the different days of the challenge. I didn't know what the subject matter would be, or what colors I would use, or if the results would even be any good. In other words, I didn't have a plan other than the plan to show up every day. And that turned out to be the very best plan of all.

2. By not having a set plan I was completely open to surprise: spilled ink became rain; dark blobs became mountains; accidentally putting the wrong color on my brush became my favorite color and I couldn't imagine using anything else.

3. Having to paint something new every day forced me out of my comfort zone. To break what could have been a monotonous chore, I tried colors I tend to avoid (red in particular) or I painted on unusual paper sizes, scraps from larger pieces that then became, for instance, a series of diptychs. An added bonus was some unexpected de-cluttering, putting those scraps to good use.

4. Adhering to a daily schedule of "paint, scan, post to social media" meant I had to work to a deadline and that meant I had to let whatever happened happen. I didn't have the luxury or time to fuss, rework, or start over. I just had to accept what was on the page and look forward to tomorrow.

5. Which also meant that some days my work was really, really bad. Again, if a piece didn't work, I had to let it go. But then I noticed something strange: no matter how bad a piece was, there was always one or more parts about it I liked. Which then meant: not one minute of the challenge was a waste. Every day held valuable lessons and growth.

6. Limited time left little time to think. Often the only thing I could think of painting was trees: trees on a hill, trees by themselves, trees leading into a forest of yet more trees. At the same time, though, I was worried the repetition would be boring for my viewers. A major element of the project was the injunction that you had to post and show your work in public and I worried people would soon get sick of seeing so many trees. However, I then remembered what my wonderful art teacher, the late Gary Sanchez always said: "Don't just paint a sunflower. Paint a hundred sunflowers. A thousand sunflowers! Become a sunflower expert!" I still might not be an expert, having at least 876 more trees to go to reach one thousand, but I'm on the way!

7. Expert or not, the thought of showing my work every day was scary. I soon discovered there was absolutely nothing to be afraid of. The people who saw my work were so kind, supportive, complimentary, funny, and appreciative of my efforts and willingness to tackle the project that this alone made every minute worth it. I am so grateful for their encouragement as well as the many times they let me know how inspired they had become to embark upon their own creative paths. It was beyond amazing to think my little trees were actually making a difference to people. Because at the end of the day, isn't that what the arts are about: making a difference?

Water-soluble graphite, ink, and watercolor crayons (and no trees).

Tip of the Day: The best challenges are never about the finished work. Instead, regard them as a framework to use as a focusing tool, asking yourself:

• What would I like to learn from a challenge? A new skill; an improved skill; how to use my materials; or simply a chance to meet other creatives?
  
• What can I give up in my daily schedule to make time for a challenge? What activity isn't serving me as much as taking time for my creative work could do?
• What is the one thing I've wanted to try but never have--could I do it now, or is there a later date I can set aside this year and give it my full attention?

I hope the answer to the last question is "Yes!" Happy Creating!

Gesture Drawing, Gesture Writing

Gesture drawings on newsprint using my favorite Koh-i-Noor Magic Pencil

 

Way back in January 2020 when the world was a bit more normal I did two things that while temporarily gone now, managed to keep me from throwing in the creativity towel. The first was when I joined a local drawing group that met on Thursdays after lunch, and the second was attending life drawing sessions with the New Mexico Art League. The one element these two groups had in common was an emphasis on figure drawing, and in particular, gesture drawing.

At the time of joining these groups, I wasn't a stranger to gesture drawing, I just hadn't done very much of it. I'd certainly read about it in various art books, and even got to try it out several times during some basic art classes. But other than those rare instances, I'd never really taken the idea seriously, or made it a part of my daily drawing practice.

All that changed in January, especially in the Thursday group where gesture drawing practically took center stage. Every week it was the first thing we did as soon as we were seated around the art table with big pads of newsprint, soft pencils and pastels, sometimes paint, and of course our model--which was always each and every one of us. We took turns holding poses for up to a minute or so at a time with usually about five to six different contortions: some hilariously funny, some more difficult to maintain than others, and all of them, I now realize, incredibly valuable. Being comfortable with a loose and imperfect drawing style that centered on shapes rather than details grew my confidence as an artist, especially when I found myself side-by-side with a roomful of professionals at the NM Art League! 

Although I only got to attend a limited amount of sessions with these two very different art groups before Covid closed everything down, I miss them terribly. In retrospect I learned so much from those timed drawings: go for the energy; don't think, just draw; find the most important and dynamic lines. One of the main things that struck me was how similar gesture drawing was to freewriting: write, don't think; don't stop to edit; don't censor yourself; first thoughts are often the best thoughts.

When Albuquerque went into lockdown I was truly saddened by the harshness of our restrictions and how I was left without access to friends or creative groups of any kind. I wasn't sure how I would stay on track as far as self-discipline went for either writing or drawing. That's when I realized I had to continue with my gesture drawings, even if it was only me and my laptop. With a small amount of research I was able to find dozens of timed drawing sessions on YouTube complete with excellent models and relaxing soundtracks. Now I can't imagine a day going by without doing some sort of gesture drawing practice.

More than anything, whether we're in lockdown or not, gesture drawing feels good. I love the immediacy of throwing myself into a fast drawing accompanied by the sensation of using my whole body to draw--the exact same way I jump into my freewriting. Some tips that can help your drawing or freewriting sessions to feel equally alive are to:

• Time your sessions, starting with small increments of 1, 2, or ten minutes and building up to a half- or full hour.
• Keep turning the pages; don't be afraid of starting and stopping a line without perfecting or adding detail. Keep going for the new, the fresh, the strongest points of interest.
• Seek out the story wherever you are or from whatever your eye catches. Gesture drawing isn't only about people; cats, dogs, trees, tropical fish, table lamps and laundry can provide you with insightful "poses" that you can use to draw or write about with genuine meaning.
  
• Use a magazine for reference if you really don't have anything to inspire you on the spot. Open the cover and go through the pages from first to last, moving from one eye-catching photograph or headline to the next. Keep your pen moving.
  

Both gesture drawing and freewriting are often thought of as preliminary warm-up exercises before we get to the "real thing." But I think that's a little dismissive and contrary to the heart of creativity: sometimes the quickest sketches--written as well as drawn--can be the most compelling and beautiful. The value of our art shouldn't be measured by the time spent making it.

Lastly, when you're finished drawing or writing for the day, don't be too hasty to toss or tear up your work because you thought it was solely for exercise. Put your pages aside and wait a week or two before evaluating which pieces you like best and which you want to keep, or not. You can either use them as the foundations for a more finished body of work, or simply to save and enjoy for being themselves.

Tip of the Day: One of the best parts of gesture drawing is the chance to experiment with different mediums, something you can use to liven up your freewriting, too. For instance, try writing in an oversized sketchbook with colored gel pens (including gold and silver of course!), soft artists' pencils, or dip pens and bottled ink. It's amazing how breaking away from the familiar (e.g., a computer keyboard) can open entire worlds of possibility and unexplored creativity.

Things to Do at Home: Urban Sketching, Picture Book Style!

Baby werewolf in a coffee mug. Every home should have one!

Greetings from Albuquerque! And greetings from another day of, well, stuck in the same old place with no relief in sight. But stuck doesn't have to mean running out of ideas or things to do. Sure, there may be days (weeks) when it feels impossible to wring another ounce of inspiration out of lock-down, but, hey, we're creative people--we can do it! 

Like so many others in the world right now, here in New Mexico we've had to place our lives on hold while we wait for our health statistics to improve. The two things I personally miss the most are 1) the library, and 2) meeting with my various creative groups. I especially miss my art groups, but fortunately Albuquerque Urban Sketchers has done a fine job of staying in touch, encouraging members to keep drawing, even if it's just sketches of our home life. 

With the instruction of "drawing in place" however, comes the caveat of "drawing the truth." Didn't wash the dishes? Show us those dirty plates! Laundry piling up? We want to see! Be real, be honest, be exact. No fancy-pantsy Architectural Digest staging for us sketchers! 

I have to admit that when I read these "be honest" guidelines I wasn't particularly thrilled with the idea of using my sketchbook as a visual to-do list ("Mop that floor!" "Scrub those sneakers!"). Instead, I needed to shake things up a bit, color outside of the lines, as it were. That's when I thought of sketching at home from the viewpoint of a child: What if I crawled under the bed? Or, What if I lived upside-down on the ceiling? In other words, I could sketch out a picture book.

Some of the tips I considered to help me get into picture book mode included:

• Thinking in terms of height and size: e.g., what do the items on my kitchen counter look like if they're above my head? Or, if I were only four years old, would a flight of stairs seem as deep as the Grand Canyon? 

• Ask what a child would find interesting about a house. While the neighbors might admire a well-kept lawn, a child might notice that there's a gopher hole right in the middle, or that birds are building a nest in a rain gutter. Adults might disdain an old piece of furniture, but to a child it's a time machine or the entrance to Narnia.

• The same goes for any ornaments or household objects. For instance, you could bring a cat figurine to life, invent new uses for a potato masher, or create an entire story around the items in your closet.
  

• Explore small objects: egg cups, button collections, jewelry; even the junk drawer can be a source of interesting things to draw. 

• Toys and their varied surfaces and textures can provide an infinite amount of sketching ideas. Try posing and arranging them in unexpected places. (For some of the best examples you'll ever see using this technique, I suggest viewing the work of Dare Wright--my absolute favorite children's book creator.)

• Don't overlook your own backyard (if you have one, of course. For me it's a balcony, but I do see trees!).  Is there a mysterious, neglected part of your yard? Use it to the full. Make a "fairy garden" and sketch the results.

• Study and copy patterns found on wallpaper, draperies, bed linens, or tile work. Patterns can be useful additions to creating a lively border or background to a picture book page.

• Think back to your childhood home and/or the place where you grew up. Can you reproduce from memory anything you loved or that was unusual or visually interesting? Don't worry about quality, just get the general ideas down and worry about perfection later.

• Even though we're temporarily cooped up for much of the day, it's important to get out and into the fresh air whenever possible. Can you visit the exterior of a museum or playground to sketch for a little while? How many details can you observe? Taking your own photographs can be a quick and easy option if you choose not to linger anywhere.

• Go wild: if you're sketching your toaster, why not color it pink and covered with gold stars? Or replace the cars in your garage with a herd of antelope? 

• Sketching for children is a good opportunity to consider your color palette. Rather than just aiming for primary colors or anything "bright and shiny," give some thought to mood. Are you feeling happy, sad, wistful, or nostalgic for your own childhood? Play with watercolor washes and draw over them later.

•  Set up some reference files from magazine cut-outs or sites such as Pinterest.com, e.g., Toys, Children's Clothing, Play Rooms, Bedrooms, Animals.

Can we go play??

I must say it's been an eye-opener these last few weeks lying on the floor sketching chair legs--and not just because I discovered my base boards needed a good dusting, but because it's made me think seriously about illustrating a children's book from the perspective of an urban sketcher. Sketching is, after all, a way to explore ideas, collect data, and experiment with mediums, palettes, and composition. And where better to start than at home? 

Tip of the Day: If you find yourself getting bored with your own supply of pots and pans and coffee mugs, experiment with designing an entirely new set on paper. Draw a household from your imagination, one set on Mars or ancient Greece. Place your characters on a pirate ship or living in a log cabin. You don't have to be accurate, just playful. Have fun and let me know how it goes. See you next time!