Gary

"An Ordinary Day" 6" x 6" acrylic on board

Periodically at this blog, when I comment on where I live I learn that folks have all kinds of fanciful images of Miami.

Here's one you might not have thought of.  I have peacocks strolling about my neighborhood.  One in particular - we call him Gary - hangs around at the end of our block.  He's a repeated source of delight.  No matter what I might be thinking about, when I see Gary I pause in wonder.

Not so this woman.  This painting is from a few photos I have taken, one of a woman at a bus stop, and one, of course, of Gary. I like the dichotomy.  The landscape is completely invented.  I learned a lot about composition with this one.

At First Glance #5

5" x 7" ink and watercolor on Fabriano Artistico rough paper
(Click to view a larger image)

I love bus stops and cross walks because of the variety of people you find there.  But it's rare that I am lucky enough to have the traffic light stop my car just to the side of a person to paint.  So when I saw the woman above I just kinda casually stared straight ahead while waiting at the light, held my cell phone sideways, and -snap- I had the picture.  I never looked that way once and when the light turned green I drove on.  When I checked the photo later I was delighted!

This is my fifth "At First Glance" picture, a series where I try to capture the essence of folks I find in Miami. 

But I've been thinking, maybe what I'm portraying is something more.

The other day I met a friend for lunch that I hadn't seen in maybe ten years.  (This is a different friend, by the way, than the one recounted in the last post.)  I had no idea it had been so long.  I'd spoken to him every year in the interim - he's my accountant.  We'd have lively telephone conversations, catching up, and he'd sounded exactly the same.  But I'd mail him the papers for my return and wouldn't see him. 

So when we saw one another there was this surreal minute or two as we conversed when we were reconciling our memories of one another to the persons before us. Time had given us both more .. character.

So I realize that what I'm capturing in this series is not only the essence, but the moment.

The "At First Glance"figures are in a field of white.  I could ground the figures in the white field, say with a shadow.  But I do not.  This is appropriate, I think.  This is their essence suspended in the moment; then the moment is gone.


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If you'd like descriptions of the series and to see prior "At First Glance" folks, you can go here, here, here and here.  [What will I do when there are 100?  Leave 99 links at the end of the post?!  I think not!]

At First Glance #4

5" x 7" ink and watercolor on Fabriano Artistico rough paper
(Click to view a larger image)

This is the fourth At First Glance picture.  In this series I try to capture the essence of people that I see in Miami.  A more comprehensive description of the series is here.

It's funny about an image like this one.  I feel like I can tell you nine or ten things about this gentleman, without actually knowing a thing about him.

Part of the constraints I set for myself in the series is to draw in pen, with no advance pencil sketch.  The idea is to keep the "sketchiness", just as though I am out and about sketching from life.

Is that crazy, or what?   The first time I draw any of these folks, it is in variably too big.  Then I overcompensate and draw too small.  I am finding it takes four or five drawings to get it right.  And then comes the watercolor, which, thus far - knock on wood - I have had no problem with.

Conclusion:  This series is a form a self-torture that is just about better than anything.   When I am done with the series, I will just cut off my ear and be done with it.  

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Note:  I have made a subtle revision to the original watercolor and have replaced the image in this post.  I apologize if any offense was caused by the earlier version.  Please know that I had not noticed the feature in the earlier version, and that it was unintentional.  If, like me, you didn't notice and have no clue what I am talking about then I am relieved.  Ah, the vagaries of watercolor..

A Remembrance

"Three Gulls"  Pastel on paper  10" x 8"

It has been near constant rain here, which is appropriate, given that it’s been only a few weeks since the death of my father-in-law, perhaps the finest man that I have ever known.  Mario was not young when he passed - he was eighty-six – but it is a reflection of his character that it feels as though he was taken too soon.

For Mario, life was precious and his family was precious.  So we who are left, by his example, know what we must do:  We must value each day, and cherish our loved ones, until the very moment that our own stories end.

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Mario loved the sea, perhaps more than anything.  So as a fitting tribute, my wife and I went to the beach at Key Biscayne a day or so after his funeral.  He used to bring his daughters there as children.  Although we live in Miami, we almost never go to the beach.

I brought my watercolors and tried to paint what I saw.  I tried to balance everything on my lap, brushes, paint, palette.  Occasionally I would drop a brush in the sand.  Sand was everywhere.  The watercolor was a disaster.

So off and on in the days thereafter, I laid in a pastel over the watercolor.  It was never quite right, so I worked and re-worked it.  I noted that the best pastelists don't appear to smear too much, but leave their marks confident and bold.  There is also a tremendous overlay of color in the best works.

I did not want to post until I had a work that would be a proper tribute for Mario.  So today I made changes again.  I don't believe I achieved my aim.  I will try again one day.   But in the meantime, here it is.

Doing the Reasonable Thing

I sketched this man at Balado Tire in Miami. He was waiting for his car, and I was waiting for mine. This was my first time at Balado Tire, a place that had been recommended to me. I was happy and a little surprised that I was able to communicate with the owner with no difficulty. The service was great, and the manager spoke English well.

I am one of the few people in Miami that speak only English. As of 2008, the percentage of English-only speakers was 27.2% of the Miami population. Now I am sure that it is much less.

So you may wonder how I get by.

My answer? Just fine, thank you very much. Here is an example:

The other day I went to Subway and ordered a breakfast sandwich. The lady behind the counter asked me a question in Spanish that I didn't understand. (She was apparently asking what kind of bread I wanted and listing choices, though I didn't know it at the time). I did the only reasonable thing. I said to her: "English, please."

And she got me an English Muffin.

Which was exactly what I wanted.

See? I get by just fine.

I know that the sketch of the man at the tire place looks like others I've done, but for me it is very different. It is much larger. Here you can see size comparison of this sketch to a sketch from an earlier post. It's funny, but the transition to a larger sketchbook has been more difficult than I'd imagined. I'd done larger works before - no problem. But apparently I've gotten used to sketching in public at a certain scale. So it's been like switching from racquetball to tennis - with a different length handle, I've been missing a lot of lobs.

It hasn't helped that I have been trying to improve my sketching of the figure. My proportions have been way off at times. So I did the only reasonable thing. I took out my ruler and I measured my wife. I recommend this. Measure your spouse or significant other. After that, do whatever feels right.

Proportions have always been a challenge for me. You need to have patience for proportions. And although I like to fancy that I am a zen master with all the ohmmms in place, it ain't always so. It's why I pretty much stay away from sketching architecture. It's why drawing and painting on Yupo, which is kind of like juggling with jello while ice skating, is the appropriate way for this artist to paint a building:



I strongly recommend that you be reasonable in all that you do - like me. But don't let anyone else's definition of reasonableness replace yours. If doing the reasonable thing means doing it like everyone else, then the only reasonable thing is for you to be unreasonable, si? Makes sense to me.

So What If I Can't Dance?!

If you live in Miami like I do, unless you live in a cave (and there are no caves in Miami as far as I know), you will be invited to a Quince. A Quince is the enormous party that occurs when a young lady turns age 15. She is the center of attention. She dances with her father and her grandfathers, gives flowers to her mother and grandmothers, toasts are made, and she dances with her "Court" composed of her many friends in a choreographed, well-rehearsed routine. Dinner is served, alcohol flows (for those of us somewhat beyond 15), and there is dancing. It is a big bash.

Last night was the Quince of Christine Alvarez, and it was a beautiful affair. We dined, we drank, and well, I danced once - if you could call that dancing. But I was not a wallflower. I pulled out my new watercolor Moleskine and kept busy with my new Lamy Safari pen with Noodlers Ink. I tried to capture the scene in the way I have seen others do. This is, I suppose, the first time that I have ever memorialized an event in a drawing.

So far I love my Lamy Safari - it is great for sketching in ways that the technical pen is not. And it is waterproof, so today I could add color to my sketch. I'd say that this drawing meets Everyday Matters Challenge no. 129 which is "Draw People Doing Something" (which sounds to me like a topic from "Wheel of Fortune" where a category might be, say, "Thing", but it's good enough for me.)

When I completed the drawing, I felt limber. Ready to go. I pulled out my other Moleskine, the one for sketches, and started furiously sketching a few folks dancing. I was almost scrubbing the page. It was interesting though - this time the Lamy Safari did not seem to keep up. I think that maybe the frenetic strokes do not suit the instrument. In fact, the ink started flowing erratically. This fit the drawing just fine, but had me a bit concerned about the pen. Today, at home, I decided that I wanted some color behind the figures. I tried to lay a wash with watercolor but on this smooth paper with no teeth, the result was uneven and rough.

Wrong pen. Wrong paper. Erratic ink flow. Patchy color. But somehow it was just right for what I was trying to convey. Two wrongs, in this case did in fact equal a right. (Or so I would like to believe). This drawing meets Everyday Matters challenge no. 155, "Draw something with a step or steps", because all dances have steps, right?

This morning, my Lamy Safari wouldn't work at all. This is my first fountain pen, and I know nothing about fountain pens. The ink cartridge was nearly full. I filled it the rest of the way anyway. I tried to remove any air bubbles by pouring out a few drops of ink. Finally I blew into the top part of the pen. Voila! It worked. Go figure.

If any of you folks out there think you know what happened, I'd appreciate your input. Will a Lamy Safari only tolerate sedate sketching? Did I do anything to cause the problem? What, in fact, was the problem? And what did I do that fixed it, for heavens sake? For the record, I still love my new Lamy Safari.

Finally, under the heading "drawing in public" - this week I have sketched in ink and colored the drawing with watercolor on site for the first time, at a Quiznos sub shop. Another head, of course (I am always drawing heads).

It is an interesting change, drawing in ink with the goal of applying color. I am testing the waters as to how much detail to include.

First efforts, but I am always looking forward..