Have decided to use this blog to publish some of my daily diary drawings.
They are done quickly in a pocket sized sketchbooks and are snapshots of what I see, hear or think about on any given day. Sometimes there can be more than one :)
This is today's.
Sunday, 29 January 2017
Monday, 26 September 2016
Wednesday, 14 September 2016
The joy of drawing in museums is that I get to slow down and really look at and enjoy the exhibits. Just the very act of drawing enable you to see things more clearly and appreciate them.
This was drawn at the Horseman Museum in South London. There was an amazing exhibition with all sorts of artefacts from different parts of Africa - including some voodoo altars that were really fascinating.
Another joy is that I usually gather a posse of small children who always want to draw too. And ask lots of questions, about drawing but about the exhibits too. We all look a little closer and discuss what we see and what it reminds us of or how different it is to anything else we have seen. Sometimes we imagine what it would be like to wear those things and how differently it would make us feel.
I think its a shame more museums don't have roving artists. It seems to me an easy and fun way to engage children more? They really do stop and slow down and take more interest. Maybe I will pitch the idea to a few?
Tuesday, 13 September 2016
You sometimes have to remind yourself to look up, be grateful and see what is above you, just waiting to be noticed..... Then I prod myself and remind myself that gratitude is a verb and not a dusty noun that sits in a forgotten cupboard.
Tuesday, 22 September 2015
I bought this recently at a car boot.
Is a well read, yellowed musty book and is a collection of Joan Didion essays. The one I started on was called "On Keeping a Notebook"
"Why did I write it down? In order to remember, of course, but exactly what was it I wanted to remember? How much of it actually happened? Did any of it? Why do I keep a notebook at all? It is easy to deceive oneself on all those scores. The impulse to write things down is a peculiarly compulsive one, inexplicable to those who do not share it, useful only accidentally, only secondarily, in the way that any compulsion tries to justify itself. I suppose that it begins or does not begin in the cradle. Although I have felt compelled to write things down since I was five years old, I doubt that my daughter ever will, for she is a singularly blessed and accepting child, delighted with life exactly as life presents itself to her, unafraid to go to sleep and unafraid to wake up. Keepers of private notebooks are a different breed altogether, lonely and resistant rearrangers of things, anxious malcontents, children afflicted apparently at birth with some presentiment of loss."
"The point of my keeping a notebook has never been, nor is it now, to have an accurate factual record of what I have been doing or thinking. That would be a different impulse entirely, an instinct for reality which I sometimes envy but do not possess."
I think all sketchbook keepers, journallers, writers, poets and artists of all sorts will identify with these words.
What makes an image so arresting that we write it down or draw it? There often seems no logic to it, it's probably not the most important thing we've seen or heard, but it resonates, connects and we want to record it. And I think there probably is some logic, deep down, if we had the tools or drive to excavate it.
But it was good to read, full of truth and my identification with a tribes of "resistant rearrangers of things" and "anxious malcontents" has made me smile for days.
Friday, 27 February 2015
The latest painting. This one was done while watching a documentary on Picasso on telly. So started as gouache, with pencil and ink on top, a they were less messy!