Laurelines

February finale

My dear friends D and S lent me their gorgeous apartment for my Charleston stay.  Part of a house built in the 1850s, their place has 13' high ceilings, heart pine floors, plantation shutters,  walls full of contemporary paintings, and a French bergere that I wanted so badly to spirit away.  I thought better of that impulse, you'll be relieved to hear. Here's a small corner of the living room, a sketch on which I'll write my thank you note to them.

A small fountain at White Point Gardens caught my eye, as fountains are wont to do.

And one last February face, my charcoal pencil sketch of a Rubens chalk sketch.

A little bit of France

There've been players from many countries strutting their stuff across the Charleston stage over the past three-and-more centuries. Judging from the restaurants in the area, the French still are, but then they've been around here for a while.
The French Huguenot Church (established on this site in 1687) is the oldest continually active such congregation in the US. Services are, of course, in English, but there's one service a year conducted in French---a service to celebrate the Edict of Nantes (1598.)  Charlestonians have long memories.
I sketched the Huguenot Church and its backdrop of cobalt sky and gibbous moon, while perched on a stone pedestal, jostling with a planter for seating space.

Then, I walked to John Street and 39 Rue de Jean, a  bistro I'd happened by at the beginning of the week. They call themselves 'a taste of Paris' and, in lots of ways they were. The waiters wore white shirts, black ties and black trousers, with long white aprons. The menu and wine list were well selected. I'd meant to sketch and eat and that is what I did.

The charcuterie plate  ( click on sketch to read ingredients) was delicious. Before I  ordered, I sketched the people sitting across from me. I know it looks like the woman has two heads, but there were really two women, as you can more easily tell from the original sketch. 

A little bit of England

Charleston is the oldest city in the Carolina colony, territory which stretched from North Carolina to much of Florida. Magnolia Plantation, where I went yesterday, boasts the oldest garden in this area  of the world.  Sitting on my portable stool, mostly alone in the 70F sunshine,  I sketched a corner of Flowerdale, circa 1685--- where 17th century England sunk roots in the colonial wilderness. Camellias are everywhere here. Originally from Japan, these varieties came to Charleston by way of Holland.

At noon,  settled on a park bench overlooking the Ashley River, I drew a heron and a couple of ducks doing their waterfowl thing. It was so quiet and lovely---hard to imagine that just yards from where I sat, the British army, led by Cornwallis, launched their 1780 invasion and conquest of Charleston. A little bit of England, indeed.

In front of a house overlooking Charleston harbor, the sinuous branches of a live oak echo the arcaded porch.

Another long drawing, posted in two sections.

Charleston beginnings

After Paris and Stockholm, Charleston is the loveliest city I've ever been to. I have a long history with this place, but it isn't until now, this visit, that I see Charleston with my clearest eyes.  Painting and drawing are revelatory acts.  It's raining today, so I couldn't finish two of the three sketches from yesterday, but here's one, the  pineapple fountain at  Waterfront Park.

I have a predilection for fountains, it seems!
Not able to sketch outside this morning, I went to the Charleston Museum to see an exhibit of seaweed specimens, both historical and contemporary. I was smitten with the shapes and sweep and colors of these exotic (to me) plants. The three pictured here were found in Charleston harbor, in the nineteenth century.

Technical note: the paper I'm working on is very long, 20 inches, when unfolded as below. I've had to crop the photograph of it in two, so it would fit Typepad width limitations.

Tomorrow, it's going to be sunny and warm, so I'll go to Magnolia  Plantation. I'm staying in the elegant apartment of friends of mine, who've lent it to me for the  week. I hope to make some sketches of its beautiful Charleston/French interior.  So much yet to do!

Changing colors for Charleston

I've been working with the same palette since my month in Paris and it was time for a change. Charleston, South Carolina ( where I'll be all week) in February is different from Paris in October, wouldn't you say? Different light, textures, colors. But it's not just the difference in locale that's causing the change. I'm using a bright white paper now that has taken me by the scruff of my neck and demanded I use more saturated color. Some readers have commented on that recent change. The new paper (Fabriano Artistico soft press extra white) is rougher, too, so it asks for more brushwork, less linework. My art supplies are brazen and bossy, as you will have noticed. I've staged a mini-rebellion, however, and insisted on taking some hot press, smoother paper for some line and wash sketches, too. As for my brushes, they're all biggish or big, size 8, 10 and 12. I'll be working on loose sheets which I'll have Josh bind up later. I'm taking my new nifty little sketchbook/workbook, too---another Josh creation at my request. I hope to be posting the new sketches all along this week. See you soon!

February light and color

Mid to late February, the days are longer. Sunlight begins to lose some of its bluish tinge. My palette warms in response, especially when there are blood oranges to paint. These exotic fruits appear in the market each February. They're little daring balls of sunrise, with their rosy orange skin and their dark, scarlet juice. Here's a blood orange sharing a plate with a more demure California apricot. Below, my daughter K joins the face parade once again .

For you...

...wherever you are.
I keep thinking today is Thanksgiving Day and in the way of most Freudian slips, there's a sharp truth lurking there.

Happy Valentine's Day from the land of oranges, blues, yellows and purples!

Washington weekend with people

I saw lots of people this weekend---people in meetings, in bars, in restaurants, in museums. I drew many of them. I drew strangers and I drew three of my daughter's friends, too. I gave those drawings away, so you'll just have to take my word for it that they were masterpieces of the highest order.  *crosses fingers behind back*
Yes, I was a drawing fool this weekend and one thing I remembered in the process was this: I don't much like drawing with pen. Drawing with pencil is like sculpting with clay---you can pinch and pull and add and subtract and poke and tweak and smudge and soften and crispen. Pencil marks are very sensuous. With the type of pen I used here the marks are stacatto and point blank. They don't give or budge. I know that other types of pens and other artists produce different results. I know that. But I, apparently, am a pencil person.

Here are several pencil sketches, followed by a pen and ink one. You be the judge. (Remember, you can click on each one to see an enlarged version.)

Last, there's a sketch for my 101 Faces project, after a painting I saw Saturday in the National Museum of Women in the Arts. I loved the forthrightness of the subject's gaze. It's called 'Portrait of an Unknown Sitter,' by Adélaide LaBille-Guiard, French 1749-1803.

February miscellany

February's a quirky month, veering away from schedule, but a degree of normalcy should return in March.
Ippy's on a trip to London and Boston, so our weekly drawing rendezvous will resume in late February.
I'm continuing with the 101 Faces project. I figure if I do 8 a month, I'll be in good shape.
I'm laying the groundwork for my larger paintings. It's going slowly, but it's happening nonetheless.
I'm keeping a regular sketchbook of whatever strikes my fancy and that is always a source of great pleasure.
I'm going to Charleston for a week, starting February 19, to begin work on my 2007 travel sketchbook project. I'll post my sketches from there as I did last October in Paris.
Here now are a few sketches, pulled from the miscellany that is February. This basket of strawberries is painted in my new sketchbook, filled with Fabriano Artistico soft press extra white paper.

Sunday I saw a  powerful performance by my friend Jane Holding in a play by another friend, Allan Gurganus, adapted from his  'Oldest Living Confederate Widow Tells All.'  It was hard to draw because, of course, the theater was dark, and I had tears in my eyes for much of the performance.

Finally, here's the latest face:

I'll be in DC seeing our daughter C this weekend.  I'm taking my sketchbook with me, but of course. See you there!

Mercy, compassion and gelato

Friday, I joined my sweet friend Lin, a PhD ethnobiologist who decided 18 months ago to start drawing just because she's always wanted to, for a lively day of sketching.
We went to the nearby university art museum and headed for the Asian gallery.  A large and imposing bust of Buddha from fifth century Thailand dominates the room and was a compelling subject for sketching.

Next, I drew a head of Guanyin, the Bodhisattva of Mercy, from thirteenth century northern China.

When we went for lunch, I spotted a nicely rotund man at a nearby table, who was a compelling subject in another way. One half of him was in shadow, the other half lit by milky February sunshine from the adjacent tall windows.  I think there's something of the Buddha nature in him, too, don't you?  Lin and I capped off our wonderful day with gelato from a café south of town.  Mine was vanilla with shards of Italian chocolate.  I think Lin's was a mixture of chocolate and crushed Oreos.    After all of that,  I was beginning to feel something of the Buddha  tummy myself. Thank you, Lin, for your charming company!