Flustered sketches

We had life drawing class yesterday. I had 20 minutes to kill before leaving for class and I fell asleep in the armchair. Fortunately my husband was home and woke me , surprised that I’m not at class. I grabbed my stuff, drove like a mad thing, all the time trying to register where I was and where I should be.

…the very first  one minute sketches, shaky and flustered….

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… got highly frustrated at some stage…

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….even charcoal couldn’t help….

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….and finally after an hour, able to start tightening the loose screws in my head for the 15 minute poses…

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….and ultimately finding the 30 minute-pose too long which resulted in unnecessary fiddling…

None of these sketches were reworked on at home.

Casey added her versions in the meantime….see here.

Sketching in Stockholm with Nina

I just came back from Stockholm and I had the wonderful opportunity to meet Nina, someone’s whose art I’ve been admiring for a long time.

We took off in the cold, into the old town and found a warm spot to have a cuppacino. The coffee shops and bars are so full of atmosphere late afternoon and they have candles burning everywhere from early afternoon. It is here where you would meet up and have long discussions and debates and romantic glances over the flickering candle light and tell whatever story you wish to tell, without worrying too much about the truth or the sense of it all. It is made for a slow sipping of your cuppacino or hot cocolate or wine or beer, stretching those good moments to last a little longer. It isn’t made for sketching though….or maybe the dim light is exactly what we need to silence the critic inside of us.

Nina and I did succeed in doing a sketch or two while sipping our cuppacino’s. She is a lovely person and it was a delight getting to know a little about her! She had dreamed of living in Stockholm since she was 15 years old and after all this time, she is still inspired by it. Her love for Stockholm is portrayed in her sketchbooks. I feel so honoured seeing her sketchbook, recognising some of the sketches from her blog, and they are FAR more impressive on the page! She is an amazing artist and her sketchbooks deserve to be published or exhibited. They are handmade by her and each page is just beautiful in its composition. I was also in awe of the ease with which she works! She simply took her pen and started drawing and a few minutes later, she had this beautiful sketch, while I was talking to myself and erasing and running off the page and starting over and trying to focus in the dark and wondering if I wouldn’t want another coffee…..Meeting Nina was a highlight for me and the next couple of days I criss-crossed Stockholm on foot, seeing its beauty through her eyes.

Both sketches in moleskine, done with pen, pencil and watercolor.

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Figure sketches

We had our “rentree” of figure drwing class this past week. After not doing any life drawing for about 5 months, I felt rusty and slow and struggled to gather my focus. There was quite a bit of talking going on, I would like it to be more work and less talk. I was hesitant to post these, since they feel so without emotion, so lifeless and rigid, but then I remembered…it isn’t about perfection!

See Casey’s drawings from the same class.

Have a  look a Susan’s creative figure sketches, especially her “figure extravaganza ” and “muse of the vineyards”. I wish I could be next to her in life class.

Moving from 2 minute sketches, to 5 minutes and then to 15 minutes. All done on paper with vine charcoal.

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Meeting Marta in Paris

Casey and I met Marta in Paris for a one day adventure….it turned out somewhat of a “death march”. We met early morning at a cafe at the hotel de ville, had a coffee, and admired our beautiful little gifts, handmade by Marta.  Marta is as graceful and loving, vibrant and radiant as she comes across on her blog and she is never without her wide, beautiful smile! See some photos.

We then took to the streets. Dropped in at Shakespeare and Company. I cheated here…sketched them from a photo later at home…it is far too small inside and I had far too few hands and far too many books to browse.

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Stopped at Sennelier art shop and stepped out just before they locked up for lunch, which put us on the hunt for dejeuner as well. Found a bistrot, took off the scarfs and the gloves, almost started ordering the wine, had a change of mind,  put the gloves and scarves back on and continued the hunt.  After what seemed an eternity, passing the same shop quite a few times, we ended up at the little resto Bergamote, next to the marché of St-Germain.  Warm and cosy, with the best traditional baked baguette, great food, friendly service and a very complicated ladies room, where washing hands rested on the per-chance discovery of a well disguised little knob…

The sunny afternoon brought us to the Jardin du Luxembourg just around the corner, and as we found a spot to do at least a sketch or two, a dark grey cloud was moving in fast. Without warning, the rain came cascading down unforgivingly and  had people stampeding for the nearest shelter, trying to keep their dignity intact. Our California girl calmly took out her umbrella and offered us two “Frenchies” generously a dry spot…

The rain stopped as suddenly as it showed up and the sun took us further on our march, into Le cimetière du Montparnasse. By now, the sun had made way for the approaching evening and it was time for a body warming chocolat chaud. For me, this is the finest hour to be in Paris on a cold, wet winter’s day; the bars are filled with atmosphere, warmth and people meeting up to warm their hands around a hot chocolat chaud, the coats and scarves wrapped around chairs, the garcons  serving up drinks in a chatty mood, the lights outside are playing on the wet streets, people are heading home from work with baguettes under the arms, pinching off a piece of crust every now and then.

The end of a long awaited day.  Crossing Paris on foot, experiencing both bright sunlight and pouring rain, enjoying wine and food and song, sharing stories, painting and writing some memories, saying warm hearted goodbyes with promises for futures that may just happen…Life is a gift.

Sketches done in moleskine with pen and WC.

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An urn overflowing with autumn chrysanthemum in Jardin du Luxembourg.

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La reine Clotilde, resting on a pillar – Jardin du Luxembourg

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Another statue, then the rain came pouring down…

A revealing selfportrait.

I’m asked to reveal seven things about myself by Marie-dom and Desiree.

When I looked over at Marie-Dom’s site, she did a twinkle-in-the-eye selfportrait and I immediately thought it was a great idea. There has been quite a few selfportraits going around, all of them great. I’m thinking Anita, who did them all different and exciting(I’m only linking to this one post, but be sure to scroll down, she had done many!), and three-for-the-price-of-one from Suzanne, a very instructive series by a contemplating Diahn, a squinting Jana, an intense Martin, a first ever selfportrait by Serena, a dramatic Kate in the shadows and Joan, who took her lovely selfportrait on as a challenge, Linda who also showed us her beautiful first attempt, Ujwala, who tried her hand at a great monotype and Bill, who has his wonderful selfportrait, done in oil(I think?) on his home page. I am sure I missed many who did their selfportraits.

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Compressed charcoal on paper

So here are my 7 revealing “things” – all of them to be found in the selfportrait above.

  1. I can lift my one eyebrow while lowering the other. I can do it both left side and right side. It was usually the threatening face of disapproval I gave our children….and Hartman.
  2. I have always worn bandannas and scarfs and bands and turbans and hats and all sorts of whateverings in my hair and on and around my head.
  3. Aging eyes force me to resort to reading glasses lately. I’m zooming in and out trying to figure out life in small print.
  4. Aging lips on the other hand, allow me to wear more dramatic colours. I have to stay away from shine now, but I can go for dramatic reds. I look stunning. Like Ava Gardner. 
  5. As compensation for all the rest that is sagging, my cheekbones are lifting. I wanted high cheekbones all my life. Like Sophia Loren.
  6. I have an olive skin and dark circles under my eyes which may explain why I am mistaken for being Portuegese, Spanish, Greek, Egyptian, Iranien and Irakien many times. 
  7. I am not witty, but I have a good sense of humour and I laugh easily. I hope that’ll explain my wrinkles.

Whoever is reading here, you are invited to just simply reveal seven “things” about yourself.

Facts and tender emotions

Once upon a time, there was a young girl, reflecting on a home and a husband and a family. I planned on having a home with a garden, a handsome husband and 5 wild sons. I placed my order. I got it all, except for the 5 wild boys. I met Hartman,(one of four wild boys!) and we were given two adorable little girls. We couldn’t be happier. This was a little over many years ago. Some time between then and now, they have blossomed into two beautiful, independent and strong willed young women.

Today, with some misty eyes that I suspect may have been tears, I waved goodbye to our Liandri-child, the youngest. This was my second experience in letting go and it was just as hard as saying these goodbyes to our eldest Marinell, four years ago. Although Liandri had done her own thing for more than a year now, she was still very much part of the breathing of our home; in-and-out with friends, parking tickets all over the house, shoes in every room, Godzilla-footfalls reassuring me of safe arrivals late nights, an angry door slamming somewhere, loud music resonating from her room, a freshly baked delicacy from her hands every now and then…

She has taken off today, passport and backpack. All on her own. Traveling, working, discovering. And she leaves behind a mother and father who are sad and happy, scared and confident, but most of all grateful and proud. I know she’ll come back and it will be different, better. But tonight the house is very quiet and empty and I have for company only the memories of twenty wonderful years. Tonight I am once again changing, adapting to the cycle of life, accepting facts with tender emotions. I know she’ll always find her true north. Her legs are strong. I know. We helped build them.