Sometimes your mind's eye can fail you. For hours or days you might struggle with ideas and images that refuse to crystallize on paper the way you want them to, deadlines and expectations looming. For some reason it's hard to remember that stopping for a while, going for a walk in the park, and maybe looking up at the sky can help. The other day the clouds were being amazing. I bet it was cool to see from the window of the plane.
I drew some insects last week for a piece in the Times Sunday Review. Below is the final. I haven't seen the paper, but word was that it was going to be printed 14.2 inches wide, so if you're looking at this on your iphone please just throw it out the window. Further down are a couple of the other sketches I liked.
In order to start things off right, the first two people I asked to pose questions for the Conversation Gardening project were my niece and nephew. After some thought over cheese pizza my niece (age 5) decided her question would be:
As you can see from the drawing, I don't. I did a second version later, using reference.
My nephew, age 7 asked "can you draw a centaur?" (the main character in the mini is, of course, a centaur, but not a very well-drawn example). I do sometimes take drawing dictation from these two, and so while I was drawing the centaur I asked what it should be holding in its hands. The answer: a picture of president Obama. Dialogue was also dictated.
I've been on the road for the last month and have collected a good stack of questions at signings and talks in Anacortes, Washington; Besançon, France and Brooklyn. The next three are from France:
(This is from a friend in Besançon. We were planning a side trip to the region of Ardèche my second week there. But it didn't work out)
Some of the questions are very long and complicated:
Sometimes complicated questions have simpler answers.
Think of me as the Devil, small and naked, a little cat in one hand, a toy plane in the other. Think of Brooklyn as the Garden of Eden, full of wild beasts in repose among the lambs and the quails. Think of Gabriel Fowler as God, suffering me to darken the threshold of paradise. Next Monday night. At 7.
(I'll also be talking a bit about the Conversation Gardening project I'm doing... so bring some ideas you want me to draw about...)