Monday, October 30, 2006
Thursday, October 26, 2006
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Monday, October 23, 2006
This sketch is part of a group of studies and so even though the head is clearly not the same person as the one holding the glass, the fact that they share the same page makes me think that perhaps a man was offering this woman a glass of wine, or perhaps drinking it in her company.
3 x 5, pencil and color wash on paper.
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Saturday, October 21, 2006
Friday, October 20, 2006
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
It reminds me of the time when I wore a pair of my mother's favorite earrings out to a fancy party. They were gold screw back earrings, as neither of us had pierced ears at the time. These earrings were in the shape of a teardrop, a little gold teardrop "cage" containing a single pearl and they would sway with the movement of the wearer. They were a gift to her from my father. She leant them to me with the admonition to be careful not to lose them.
They must have been magic earrings because I felt like the belle of the ball. I danced all night and felt on top of the world, flush and breathless. Finally it came time for the evening to end, and I said my good-byes. I returned home and recounted the nights happenings to my mother. I reached up to take off the earrings and I felt only one. The other one was not there! I felt a panic rising in my belly. This could not be. I had checked them so many times during the evening! I was horrified, hated myself, and the evening's pleasure drained away in an instant. A darkness engulfed me, and I wanted to die.
My mother was crushed, but tried to be cheerful about it. I could see by the look on her face that it made her sad. I called the party hosts but nothing had been found. I cried and told her how sorry I was. I had lost something precious to my mother and could not get it back. To this day none of the gifts I have given her have been able to erase the guilt I felt for the childish abandon of that night that caused me to lose them so long ago. I still hope beyond hope that the missing earring will turn up some place unexpected and, like the gift must have done when she first received them from my father, bring a rush of joy into my heart.
8 x 10, ink and watercolor on newsprint.
Sunday, October 15, 2006
Friday, October 13, 2006
I love the old-fashioned grace of how my father has captured this woman's form. For me it feels as if the focus is off the page, into the forward distance where she is covering herself from the gaze of someone in her eyeview. This gives us a sense of her tenuous privacy, gives us a way of identifying with the woman, of knowing her intimately. We see the beauty of her form in its secret, half-protected offer.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
My father rarely did bright watercolor like this, but I think it gives the image an extra sense of place, as if this man is emerging from a very hot bath. The pose is rather feminine, as is the long hair, and yet the figure is masculine. I like images that have contradictions like this.
8 x 10, ink and watercolor on paper.