Sketching faces

With everybody crawling out of their hibernation holes, sketching faces has become easy again…. in availability, I mean, not in the sketching itself.

…Spring faces…

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Pencil sketches in moleskine with watercolour dabs.

This past week we had le soleil à volonté! Meaning as much sun as you want.  I made sure I had plentiful of helpings of unlimited sunshine, literally drinking in the sunshine and blue skies, turning my face to the sun. And I could see everybody else doing the same. The winter grim is thown off the faces, mouths are turned upward in smiles, little friendly jokes are being cracked with the stranger opposite you and cars stop to give you an opening into traffic. We are all united by the appearance of the sun. If I could capture the effect of sunlight on people and sell it in a bottle, I would be a billionaire overnight!

So. Like all these other cheerful Francais, I also took to the streets, sat myself down outside a café and sketched the faces around me.

I used pencil, which is always hard for me. Maybe I’m influenced by the fact that I know pencil can be erased, but I DON’T want to erase, so I’m hyper careful not to make a mistake! In using a pen, I care less, I JUST DO IT.  I added some watercolour, because it looked too sad without colour and after all, today  is 20 March, which means it is…PRINTEMPS!(spring!)…

Question of the day: Did you hold a pen in your hand today and what did you do with it….doodle/draw/sketch/scratch your ear/ clean your toenails…?


Shadows

A recent conversation:

“…I live in the shadows. Or so it feels. A few years back I was blooming in the sun. So it felt. Now I’m living my life in the shadows. Of my computer. Emails. SMS. MSN. Facebook. Twitter. Blogs. Websites. I am now recognized through the style of my writing and not by my voice. Sadness is felt  by the stucture of my phrases and not seen in my tears. Happiness is seen in my exclamation marks and not heard in my laugh. The truth is guessed by my vocabulary and not heard in the seriousness of my voice.  I have become deletable. I am speaking less and writing more. I am hearing less and wondering more. My voice is growing softer and the shadows wider…”

Sketch in moleskine with rotring pen and watercolour.

…deep talk...

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