At First Glance #2

5" x 7" ink and watercolor on Fabriano Artistico rough paper

Your momma was right.  You are special.

In one nicely written web article that you can see here, a Mr. O. Hooge (how I love that name), of British Columbia, Canada, said that if you go back 10 generations, following the father's line only without even taking momma or all sorts of various deaths of potential ancestors into account, the chance that you exist at all is at most 1 in 6 x 10¹⁰⁰.

He then shows you the zeros, which is a nice touch:

1 in 6000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000.

Wow.


In a Huffington Post blog post which you can see here:
Dr. Ali Binazir says..
that Mel Robbins, a self-help author, states..
that scientists say..
that your chance of being born is about 1 in 400 trillion!!
Maybe those scientists are taking all those factors into account that Mr. Hooge set aside.  I don't know.

But according to the scientists, you, dearie, are 1 in 400 trillion!!

No room for the zeros here.  Sorry.

You can look at this another way. If you were a rabbit, you'd probably only be 1 in 1000.  If you were an ant, you'd probably only be 1 in 100.  If you were a grain of sand, you'd probably just be 1 in 2. Well, thinking about it, a grain of sand isn't born.  My numbers.  Sorry, Mr. Hooge.

So you are lucky to be here!

And that is the reason for my "At First Glance" series.  It's my attraction to the uniqueness of each and every individual out there (and that, of course, includes you).


When I was at one of the attractions here in South Florida, I pretended to snap a picture of a building, but I was really taking it of the crowd.  Sneaky.  And the girl at the top of this post was among them.  This is my second drawing for the "At First Glance" series.  Each are on a white field and drawn freehand in pen in a kind of  "sketchy" style, as though on site, then colored in watercolor.  The first in the series is here.

I suppose it is the uniqueness of folks that attracts me when I am out and about, sketching, too.  My small moleskine is always in my back pocket; my pens, always in the front.


Here are a few of my sketches from life.. 

Here's a couple I sketched at a restaurant at breakfast.  There is something about the whole feel of this that I like - I wonder if it would make a good painting?  I did something different this time.  I painted everything in the same color underneath, quinadrone gold.  Each color - not yellow - that you see is a result of glazes on top.

ink and watercolor in a small moleskine

Below is a girl I saw a few booths over.  Each time I sketch is a challenge - I am always wondering if it will come out all right.  Sometimes it makes it hard to make the first mark, the concern of it.  But I must always make the first mark.

Sketches are always interesting, because I learn something each time.  This time I gave her a shnoz.  I would probably do it differently next time I draw someone at that angle.  And that is the key to progress.

ink and watercolor in a small moleskine

Here is the local pharmacist, drawn while standing in line to pick up a prescription.

I showed my family this one, and they all said it was a perfect likeness!  I like that!

ink and watercolor in a small moleskine

So look in a mirror today.  No matter whether you straighten your hair, polish your bald head, smile at what you see, or recoil in horror, remember your uniqueness.

Then do something with it!

***

PS - The experiment with the SKB SB-1000 pen bore fruit.  The pen marks faded by half in the sun.

Captain Elaine, whose blog is here, said in her comment to my post, that there are always two issues - not only do you have to worry about the sun (UV resistence), but the ink, if it's not archival, may fade on it's own in the dark! 

I once spoke to an aging artist who, with a sad wistfulness, said that all his old sketches were fading.  I enjoy the line, the feel, of the SKB pen.  I'm not sure I'm done with this pen, but that's probably enough.  When I use it, I'm beginning to feel like I do when I eat something that's bad for me.  I've gotten rid of two fugitive paints from my palette, so it seems reasonable to abandon this pen as well.

So I've picked up the Pigma Micron again.  And I'm getting used to it..

At First Glance #1

5" x 7" ink and watercolor on Fabriano Artistico rough paper

Well, I had the idea for a series of small drawings of people - perhaps grouped together in a larger square and single frame.

I am intrigued by how much is shown (or assumed) about an individual at first glance.   
 
The challenge to myself would be to draw freehand in pen without doing it in pencil first, just as I would a sketch in the field.  Then it might have the raw quality that I value in field sketching.  I would have no background, letting each figure show the character of the person.  At the same time, I would try to give the drawing a more formal quality than a sketch might offer.

My reference photo is from random shots I took at a public event a year to two ago.  I snapped pictures with my phone in various directions.  People were everywhere.  The magic of digital shots is that I can enlarge and crop the image I want, put it on the computer screen, and then sketch at my desk as though I were there.  I have more time, but I try not to use too much.  I don't worry at all about a likeness - it is the effect I am after.

This was my first attempt, and it was successful.  I have done two.  The second took two tries.  It was a bit harder, because I had to match the size and the style of the first.  The third became too lose, so I added a background and it became something else altogether - not suitable for the series, but interesting.

But my new series faces cancellation.

For these first two drawings I used the fabled SKB SB-1000 pen, my favorite sketching pen.  I have extolled its virtues before.  It has a fine line that I love and it is waterproof so does not smear with watercolor.  It is essentially a ball point pen.  But there is no information on the pen - anywhere.  Is the ink archival?  Is that question something I should concern myself with anyway if the watercolor would be under UV protected glass?  I don't know.  What do you think?

So I have taken a failed drawing on the same paper, and stuck it in the Florida sun.  Let's see what that does.

Well, I've done two drawings - doing maybe seven more for a grouping of nine would be great fun, a personal challenge, and I've already ripped the paper to size, so why not?  We will see.  And then maybe I can follow up with 6 foot acrylic paintings of the same subjects.  Alert the museums.

OK, that was my formal and snooty side.

"Ta."

("Ta," is what formal and snooty people say.)

And this is the comic I did for Pamo's zine:

It's Not Easy Being Green

5" x 7" watercolor on 140 lb Fabriano Artistico rough paper

South Florida.

A quiet walk outside is disturbed by a tumult of squawking.  A company of parrots traverses the sky.

Three lanes of traffic on US-1 come to a halt as a peacock casually crosses the road.

A car dealership on Bird Road (I kid you not), first thing in the morning before it is open is sprinkled with pepper - hundreds of nondescript black birds called grackles. They loudly perch in groups on every car, every surrounding wire, and along the rims of bordering buildings.  Every day I suppose the employees must rewash the cars if they are ever to hope to sell them.

In Miami, a white ibis, with its orange decurved bill, visits our home so often that my wife has named it.  When he appears we call for our son Matthew and stand together at the window, watching, as the ibis strides across our yard.  He is "Commander", his bearing so proud that it must be so.  Sometimes he brings his army - ten or twenty other birds.

After dropping my son off at a weekly Saturday activity, I'd drive to a spot  in downtown Davie, Florida, where the branch of a tree would extend along the shoreline of a canal.  There every week, without fail, a white ibis would stand.  I like to think it was the same bird week after week.  I sketched him and painted the surrounding trees and the leaves on the branch.

The next week, when I returned, the branch had been cut. The ibis was gone, the beauty of the spot diminished.

This also is South Florida.

This little page had a few incarnations.  A few months ago I sat in the backyard of my sister-in-law's house in central Florida, and sketched the stylized sun that was hanging on her fence.  I then attempted to paint the fence, in yellow ochre, and was not at all happy with the result.  I tucked the paper away.  Then, when I saw the ibis, I decided to put him on the same sheet.  I paint the trunks of the trees and then the leaves in the middle of the page and the leaves were so tedious that I quit.  I put off doing anything more with the page - again for weeks (if not months), not wanting to deal with the leaves.

But then I saw master watercolorist David Lobenberg, at his blog here, and his loose treatment of leaves, and I thought - voila! (because that is how artists express excitement - voila!) - and pulled out the page again.  I had done this before - why not here?  Not all of the leaves had to be so exacting.  I began covering the page with a wash and then the impression of the leaves and grasses from memory.  I was surprised at the richness of color and the depth.  It was enhanced by the yellow ochre underneath I think.

So there you are:  a Florida story. 

6" x 3" watercolor on 140 lb. Fabriano Artistico extra white hot press paper

A few days ago, from a distance, I spotted some more Florida wildlife.  Retirees.  In their native habitat.  A lucky find, I think.  Ah, South Florida, with so much to offer.

My Most Valuable Critic has complained that my last three pictures (the two in this post, and the one in the last) look too similar. 

"They are so green", she said.

"But they are outside", I replied.

"But they are so green," she said.

"Then you can consider this to be my Green Period!" I replied, brandishing my beret, then tilting it smartly on my head. 

And what, I ask you, could she say to that?

A Fish Story, Really

7" x 3-1/2" on Fabriano Artistico hot press

Now here's something different! Once upon a time, I did a very quick sketch in my sketchbook that came directly from my subconscious I think.  I thought it would make an interesting painting. You may remember that I posted the sketch here.

So I finally drew and painted this face based upon that sketch. It actually came out much as I'd envisioned it. Then I wondered what, if anything, I should do next.  What color should be used in the background?

I let the picture rest, and mulled it over. I toyed with making a softly colored background with texture. You can see my study for it below. Rather than the squares you see there though, I thought I could extend carefully selected swaths of color roughly along the lines I had drawn. Or even just one color.  Or hints of color along the lines, keeping mostly white.  But I have been hesitant to do any of it. I am concerned that adding more color will keep the face from standing out on the page.

What do you think? What would you do? I've left the white, but I can still change my mind, and very well might..that's the thing about white. 



This is my first post of the year. The end of 2011 and beginning of 2012 were full of happenings, both good and bad. I felt tossed about. That was not so good for my art or for this blog. Fortunately, the good was very good, and the bad, ultimately, not so bad, and I'm back.

The best of the best was the graduation of my son Ian from Georgia Tech with a Bachelors in Chemical Engineering. The word "proud" does not begin to describe my feelings. Congratulations, Ian! It's on to grad school now.

an ink sketch I made in GA

On the art front, I was a touch hard on myself. Ultimately two things freed me from my destructive thinking: First, a blog post at Zen Habits that I recommend, which is here, entitled, "The Best Goal is No Goal". It is freeing.

Second, I realized I was being too self-critical (a good trap for artists, I'd say). This realization came to me because of a man on tv talking about a fish. This gentleman, in a fine British accent, was extolling the virtues of the halibut. He went on and on. He said this fish was "noble" and was not like its "ugly cousins".

Really.

This gentleman did not have self-contemplation as a problem. So I needed to refocus my attention as well. It is the world that is my inspiration after all. I need to be outward looking.

So without further ado is this my quickly-penned ditty inspired by this gentleman (best read at a slow cadence in British English. You are a step ahead, if you already speak that way):

The halibut is a noble fish
Unlike his ugly flatfish cousins.
His eyes may migrate,
But he is ever faithful,
And though his eyes may roll,
The halibut is never haughty.
What can we do, but stand in awe
As we all hail the halibut, this
Helluva bit of a fish.

So if you ever have a creative block, come back to this post and read of the halibut, and you will be cured, I guarantee it.

No, you needn't thank me. It's my gift for the New Year.

Really.

Founder's Day

Ink and watercolor in large moleskine

Founders Day in Satellite Beach, a small town in central Florida.
The Rockies play I-Don't-Know-Who.
My nephew Jake has two runs!
Go Rockies!

I have a wonderful view.  Aside from watching Jake, I can plainly see the spectators for the other team.  They do not look well.  They look rather bored. There is no jumping around.  Hardly any movement at all.

Good for me.

Did I mention that in addition to my nephew Jake playing for the Rockies, my brother Neil coaches them?

Hmmmm?

Go Rockies!

It's fortunate that this was the off season.  This means, of course, that no one was following the score.  Luckily then, none of the spectators knew that it was 14 for the Rockies and 2 for I-Don't-Know-Who when they called the game.  This means that the spectators that I drew above had no idea that the game was halted prematurely at only 4 innings so it wouldn't be a total slaughter/bloodbath/massacre.  This means that when the poor spectators above took their young players on I-Don't-Know-Who home, they didn't have to call the kids' therapists.  This saved them thousands of dollars.

Did I say, Go Rockies?!  Yeah, I think so.  Yeah!

It was a delightful day in Satellite Beach on the day I drew this picture.  It was small town America in the place where I grew up.  There was the Founder's Day parade with the mayor, the high school band, floats, the Army, the Navy, cheerleaders, and such, and most notably, the baton troupe with my niece Ashley tossing her baton into the air with style!  Whoosh!

Happy Birthday Ashley and Jake, 11 years old!

Ink and watercolor in small moleskine

Just the day before Founder's Day, there was great food and greater fun at the special education homecoming dance - Pirates of the Caribbean Theme - for my son Matthew's high school.  Glorious happy spontaneous dancing - partners completely optional!  And in celebration of this freedom, I whipped out my small moleskine and tried to capture the mood as best I could in a quick sketch.  Not my best sketch ever, but I wanted to color and post it just the same.  So there!

So go Rockies!  Go Cobras!  And Boo Hoo to I-Don't-Know-Who, but you know who you are, I am sure that you do. Don't you?

Waiting

Ink and watercolor in large moleskine

You know what to expect when you enter a doctor's waiting room, right? You will see patients sitting in chairs, sometimes with their spouses. Many of the patients will be thumbing through magazines. If the room is not too crowded, the patients will have discreetly left empty chairs between them.

Only couples will sit together. Sometimes the couples will whisper, but mostly they will remain silent, thumbing through their magazines. Patients will never speak to one another though, and for that reason it is very quiet.

You will walk to the window which is closed and sign the sheet on the clipboard on the shelf with the attached pen. You will then turn to the magazine rack and select a magazine that is of little more than vague interest to you. You will look for a chair that is at least a seat away from everyone else. Finally you will sit and quietly thumb through your magazine. You will not even whisper unless you are with your spouse, and even then, only occasionally.

Unless you are in Miami.  I have a wonderful old-time Cuban doctor. When I walk into his waiting room for the occasional checkup it is like stepping into Cheers, although nobody knows my name. When I enter everyone looks up, and says the Spanish version of "Hey!" It is as though they have been waiting for me all morning. I sit with my magazine, but don't read it. I am too busy watching complete strangers bouncing from chair to chair, conversing enthusiastically. One gentleman comes to me and starts gesticulating. When I shrug he asks cheerfully, "What,you don't speak Spanish?!" So he talks to me in English for a few sentences, but I'm not nearly as interesting as those ebullient Hispanics that fill the rest of the room, and soon I am left to watch, my eyes wide.

Did I ever tell you that I love Miami?

I have lived in Miami for 26 years. Yeah, yeah, I should have learned Spanish by now, but I haven't. But I kind of like being the outsider looking in.

The other day I was at Balado Tire, getting my brakes fixed. I sat to wait. The cheerful round-faced manager behind the counter conversed with everyone. Folks - strangers - bounced from chair to chair conversing. They would find their talking partner and strike up a conversation. One man came to me, and then walked away when he got no response. No matter. I am an artist. I love being separate. Another man hung out at the counter. Why? I don't know. Every now and then he would talk to the round-faced man, but mostly he was just waiting. When the round-faced tire guy wasn't cheerfully offering everyone cafe' con leche, I was sketching the man at the counter, and that is my sketch above.

We were in an open waiting area next to the bays, all facing a parking lot.  While I was there, an old bent Cuban man walked by, pulling a wagon piled high with mangos.  He yelled something to the group of us, which I suppose was, "Hey guys, any of you wanna buy some mangos?"  He got no takers.  But as he walked by the second bay, one of the workers threw down a tire, pulled out a wad of bills and bought a bunch of the fruit.  I guess that old man knew what he was doing.

Ink and watercolor in small moleskine

My wife and I both wear glasses.  That is a good thing.  The waiting room at the ophthalmologist's office is of the boring dismal type and too small for me to discreetly draw anyone.  So every year my wife and I will set our appointments together, and she will go in first.  I will stay in the car and look for something to sketch or paint.  I was extra lucky this year, because parked on the street was this tractor, waiting.  Waiting for a driver, I suppose.  But also waiting for me to draw her.  While I was waiting for my appointment.

Watercolor, 2-1/2" x 3-1/2"

I am in the middle of a still life. Some watercolor painters paint thin washes and - voila - they are done. That has never been the case for me. I have always layered or mixed or glazed or who knows what, even from the beginning when I knew even less about what I was doing than I know now. I am waiting for the still life to finish, because it is taking a good long time. Not that the process isn't wonderful, mind you, like reading a good book that you don't want to end.

Sometimes I watch (listen) to documentaries when I paint, and while carefully painting this still life I saw a film about a painter who is wonderfully, skillfully sloppy. He would sometimes paint outlines of faces on seemingly random swaths of color. I was absorbing this information when I glanced at the scrap of watercolor paper that I was using to test colors before laying them on the still life. I ran and got a scissors and cut out the most promising section, ACEO size, and painted the face in the span of a minute or two, and voila! (See, I can voila too.)  But mostly I have to wait.

I am not Clark

Ink and watercolor in moleskine

I am Dan KENT - The Dan Kent. Do not confuse me with Clark.  Sometimes I step into my closet and I re-emerge - as, you guessed it .. Dan Kent! I live in South Florida, and the humidity gives my hair the ability to fly! Or to puff, er, up. I have T-Ray vision, thanks to my trusty trifocals. I, little people, am a superhuman being. Or a super, human being. Or at least I like to think so.

So imagine my joy when, eager for folks to draw, I discovered a crowd of fellow super heroes and nerds weaving in and out of the Florida Super Comics store in Davie.

Discretely I parked my Kentmobile.  Wielding my trusty Moleskine, with my faithful sidekick Pigma Micron-cron-cron-cron (that is an echo in case you haven't figured it out) at hand, I captured those characters on paper and instantly transformed them into the comics they craved! Wham! Bop! Zowie! I colored them later - take that! And that!

Excuse me.  No.  Pigma Micron-cron-cron was home that day, I think, and it was my SKB SB-1000! Zap!! Kerplooie!

Okay, so my memory's not so good.

But I have never felt so powerful.

Ink and watercolor in moleskine can turn a boring speech into an event!

You, mere mortal, imagine if you can the power to turn boring speeches into events, and still hear not a single word being said! Kapowie!

It is, my friend, the POWER OF THE PEN. With the pen, I can explore and never leave the room, I can learn and never crack a book, and I can create and never be bored again! And if I do it right, and if I do it enough, it will be like when Gandolf the Grey became Gandolf the White! Yeah!!!  Well, no, not yeah, excuse me.  Shazaam!!!








And being as super as I can't help being, I have Super Friends as well -  Friends from All Over The World.  And one of the Superist of the Super Friends is Mari of Colour Blob Design in Ontario, Canada.  I won a prize at her blog, thanks to her trusted sidekick Charlie:  two beautifully hand-made travel tags that you can see here.

But what really blew my mind was the hand-painted envelope that it came in!  It was a blast of color and shape that only a super person could create, for sure.But that wasn't enough for Mari.  She gave me tea fashioned by the Inuit people (formerly known as "the Eskimos") - how cool is that?! - and a beautiful handwritten postcard with a picture by a member of the Group of Seven, a cadre' of artists that I hadn't even heard of, that you can read about here.  Thank you, Mari!  I was blown away!  Shazowie!!  (Note:  Lest you think that Supers needn't thank other Supers, manners are necessary even when the world is saved, thank you very much.)

Acrylic, by Mari Brown, on an 8-1/4" x 10-3/4" brown envelope

Now I must go.  I have images to catch and stray lines to save.  UP, UP, AND AWAY!!!

[What was that?!  Was it surreal?  Was it abstract?  Representational even?!

Who was that masked artist?
I dunno but I'm sure glad he's around!]

In Memoriam

5"x 7" watercolor and ink on Arches 140 lb. cold press paper

This watercolor is based upon a photograph by Morten Liebach. You can find it here. I was amazed by the complexity and beauty of the pattern in the dragonfly's slender body. As the wings were difficult to discern from Mr. Liebach's photograph, I snatched the wings from another photograph, taken by Dean Gugler, which you can find here.

In this watercolor my goals were to achieve texture, and to explore the effect of luminosity as described by Faber Birren in his book "Creative Color", and in the more accessible book "Exploring Color" by Nita Leland. Both of these works were introduced to me by Myrna Wacknov. She was kind enough to send me an e-mail about Nita Leland, and unless you want a more scholarly tome, Nita Leland is the authority I'd recommend. I return to both books now and again.

I am dedicating this small painting to the memory of my father. Joel G. Kent, a victim of Parkinson's Disease, was released from years of suffering and decline on Monday. His death falls on the calendar just 7 days after the anniversary of the death of my daughter, Taylor. Last year's post, in Taylor's memory, is here. Perhaps they are together, comfortable and whole, casually reading this blog post via heavenly connection by modem to the world-wide-web. I hope so.

Joel Gilbert Kent, March 13, 1933 to April 25, 2011.

In Construction

Ink and watercolor in small moleskine

Construction.

I was attracted to the industriousness of the workers, the grays and yellows, and the geometry of it all.

Construction.

I sat across the street from the construction site in South Miami, sketched in ink in my moleskine, and then colored as much as I could in watercolor. Then I went back a few days later and finished painting. I was constructing as they were.

Mine is, of course, an illusion.

Construction.

One hundred and fifty years ago, none of the buildings I see around me existed. If I could return to that time, I would recognize nothing. One hundred-fifty years from now, with few if any exceptions, the same will be true. It will be a different place. I think about that sometimes.

The idea that their building is representative of the world around me is as much an illusion as my picture.

Ink & watercolor on 3" x 2-1/2"140 lb Fabriano Artistica hot press paper

I found a card I had cut from watercolor paper, smaller than an artist's trading card, only 3" x 2-1/2", and drew and painted another building just blocks away from the construction site. I had to draw quickly before - poof - it would disappear. Or before I would. Just kidding.

As an artist I am constantly thinking about construction: composition, value, shape, color, line. This blog has featured mostly ink and watercolors in my small moleskine. I am capable of detailed ink drawings, such as the one in my February 13th post. But I enjoy attempting to manipulate the watercolor for nuances of value, and so have refrained from doing other than outlines. I am getting restless though. Line filled with color - people see my moleskine drawings and say they are like a comics drawing. "They are not!" I say emphatically, even though I am interested in doing those too.

a quick idle sketch

a loose sketch from life

I sketch from life in much of my spare time, and sometimes from other sources. Some of the sketches I am finding most engaging these days are those done loosely and quickly. I will continue what I am doing as well, but I suspect there may be some experiments in style in the coming months.

And after a year of talking about it, I have finally bought a drafting table. It is in a large box. Now if I can manage to clear the space for my studio and create a good working area with the new table, my easel, and proper lighting before all the buildings around me disappear, then I have grand ambitions for a series of paintings on a large scale. How will it work? I don't know. I will need to reinvent what I do. I will need to learn more about how to do it. It's exciting..

on a receipt

In legal parlance, the word "construction" means "interpretation". And that is what I do. That is what we all do, whether artists or not. We take what we see and interpret to match our image of the world which is every bit as flawed and personal as we are.  Of course, that is what makes our creations so special and so unique. 

For this week's Shadow Shot, for Shadow Shot Sunday, I lay down the cones because there is work to be done. There are boxes to build and to break from. Bur most of all there are wings and floors to add. Why? So I can fly and still stay grounded, of course.

Home, Home on the Page - and Alex

The sun is high (pronounced "hah") in the sky (pronounced "skah"). I tilt my John B (that's a cowboy hat). I lean over, pluck a golden-yellow (pronounced "yellah") weed, and I chew. I stride with confidence. I spit on the grass. I dig my heels in the fertile earth just because I can. I strike my spurs together and the sparks, they fly (pronounced "flah").

And it is all because of one thing (pronounced "thang"): I own an SKB SB-1000 0.5 millimeter. Got it straight from Texas, and I puff my chest with pride (pronounced "prahd").

It was sent to me by Raena.

What is this thang? I'll tell you what it isn't (pronounced "ain't"). It ain't a gun - I don't shoot it. It ain't a motorbike - I don't ride it. And it ain't no B--M--W (pronounced "dubya").

Here's a hint: These days I have just enough muscle to push it. That's right. It's a pen.

When I first got it, I didn't know what to think. It looks like any old ballpoint. And with apologies to Andrea Joseph, I have never sketched seriously with a ballpoint. But it's not just any old pen. It's a beauty. I've found it to be so smooth to write with, and the point is so thin. It makes a beautiful razor-thin line if you'll let it be (though I tend to drag it back and forth when I use it.) And it is obviously waterproof because it works wonderfully with watercolors. The detail possible with this pen is unbelievable.

It's funny how when you pick up something different to draw with it's still you, but all together different things seem possible. This is why it is great to have many types of drawing tools to suit your many moods.

So I've started using this pen in my moleskine, and you can see my first such sketch from life above. I also played with the watercolors a bit in this one. What d'ya'll think? Like it?

Turns out that the SKB SB-1000 0.5 mm is as valuable to me as my horse (pronounced "hahs"). My apologies to those of you who actually speak like this. ..

No I don't own a horse.

Raena is a fine online friend I've met. Alex is another. He recently drew Raena and I at his blog here. Great fun.

So one day I felt like furiously scrubbing with my Pierre Noire Conte A Paris pencil. It's name sounds snooty, doesn't it? But it's not. More like sooty. It's like a charcoal pencil only less smudgy. I drew a quick sketch of of a short-haired woman from a magazine (at the right), and that really got me in the mood to use it.

But who to draw? (With me it is always a who).

Well there was only one person I wanted to draw. Sweet revenge. And that was Alex. But where was I going to find a picture? Not that screwy one at his blog. And his wife's blog was no help either - no pictures of the hubby. So I began searching the internet, and voila! there he was. The magic of the web.

And here he is. That symbol at the bottom left is his signature symbol.

Okay, Alex my boy, tell me like it is. I can take it. Yeehaw!