Sketches of old Fench soupiere and plates.

I love my old French tableware…soupiéres, platters, plates, bowls and other dishware. Sketching them is quite challenging though, since they have such nice old patinas that I would love to capture. The only way for me to get that is to use different media. In the 2 sketches below, I used J. Herbin inks, De-Atramentis inks, watercolour, watercolour pencils, nib pen, pilot prera pen and gouache. I think I sort of got some patina on the dishes..

The sketches below are an old French soupiére, a Polish jug with my chickens’ feathers that I stick in at will.The second sketch is an old French platter and oval plate.

French soupiére and Polish jug

mixed media in Stillman & birn sketchbook, epsilon series14X21.6cm

french soupiére

Old French platter and plate

mixed media in Stillman & Birn sketchbook, epsilon series14X21.6cm

old french platesà la prochaine

Ronelle

A selfportrait.

I broke my leg a week ago. Played ball with Lindiwe, our young German Shepherd girl and slipped when running down a hill and I just heard that bone break when I hit the ground. Now my leg is up to the knee in a cast and I am on crutches.

..selfportrait of poor me ..

dip pen and black ink in Daler rowney sketchbook, 21X29.7cm

selfportrait broken legThat is the worst…these crutches. They frustrate me beyond belief. The first few days it felt like someone on either side of my arms were pulling me apart across my chest and my leg carrying the weight felt like it was carrying a freight ship. I moved like a hiccup…in short jumps, trying my best to take a painless step forward. Each time someone tried to encourage me or applaud my effort, I felt like whacking them with the crutches. If I didn’t desperately need both crutches, I probably would have done so. I have never broken anything. Sure, many stretched or torn muscles because of sport, but never a broken something. So using these crutches was for me, the ever impatient one, a miserable punishment. But I just had to picture people less fortunate who live like this every day of their lives, and I would get up, let go of the feeling-sorry-for-myself-upper-lip and get moving.

My daughter told me to do a selfportrait of miserable-me during this time. And so I did. And it was the perfect way of taking a step back and end up laughing at myself and be grateful that it is only a broken leg.

..my children decided the white plaster is far too boring, so we decorated it a bit with a black marker..

broken leg

My next post will be on splashes, splotches and splatters. Keep an eye out if you are interested in seeing how I splash and splatter paint on paper.

à bientôt

Ronelle