One of the pleasures of carrying round a little journal is being less precious about my drawing. Insteads of sitting down in a studio with all of the materials at hand, I can just whip out my book and fill the moment with whatever’s happening right then.
There’s no such thing as wasted time when you can draw. Instead of waiting for the waiter to take our order, I can draw the salt and pepper shakers while I chat with Patti and Jack. I was trying to explain the complexity of my extended family to my boy and so, rather than just draw it on the place-mat and leave it behind, I have a permanent record of our little chat.
This pen is quite obscene, of course. I saw it in a catalog. I will hold off buying it until I can find an appropriate sketchbook; something with vellum pages hand bound in some sort of horribly endangered species’ skin.
I drew the bank on a drawing jaunt with my pal, Tom Kane. We walked too far to find something interesting to draw and I felt a little cramped and off-kilter when I drew it. More and more I am liking spontaneous, solitary drawing, rather than anything formal or planned.