Observe and Report.

I like observational drawing. I feel like it is one of the things that I do well. I encourage developing artists to try it as often as possible. It becomes a reservoir that one can tap into as they develop cartooning solutions for the articulation of complex information. Without some understanding of natural light and forms that emerge from contrast, the methods of stylization that people often employ quickly reveal themselves to be incomplete.

I got Lindsey to draw me and she did a better job of honestly recording what she saw than many people I went to art school with would have.
Some friends of ours were in town over the weekend. I often draw people that I'm having a meal with but I've decided it might be best to ask first. The fellow on the left of the image (a dear friend of mine) was annoyed with my depiction of him to the point where he asked me 'not to do it again.' That is a possible peril when you portray anyone I suppose.
Lindsey and I had a nice breakfast at Tom's where we talked about drawing. I asserted that adults seem squeamish about drawing because they appear to have a strange standard of necessary quality that is self applied. Many people don't hold themselves to a similar litmus test with other popular activities like sports or cooking, that have a well demonstrated, professional, archetype against which their own skills could be measured. If they do, the peak potential ideal doesn't seem to stop most of them from enjoying their own explorations. Drawing is fun and I'm glad when Lindsey does it.

Lindsey is depicted here depicting me. The drawing she is working on can be seen above

Sunday Funday

I did this drawing of Lindsey with a handful of old oil pastels that I found in a box while cleaning/rearranging. It turned out OK, which is more than I can say for our breakfast.


We went to a place on Hawthorne street that we had been talking about checking out and it was lame-sauce. I'm not picky either but if you strike out on taste, expense and portion then I can't pretend to like it. I try not to complain about things on the lighter third of the scale between 'I lost limbs and my vision via civil war and racial genocide' to 'this isn't the color tote-bag they usually give out at this kind of thing' with 'my pet died' somewhere around the middle. I have a good life and I think about that every day. That said; this Muffin I had was definitely closer to 'sorry champ... rocket got run over' than 'this free popcorn sucks.'


Why Go to Hawthorne for breakfast when you can go to Tom's?

I like our Sunday breakfast adventures to far flung locales (of more than a block away) but I'm going to stick to Tom's for a while because the coffee is perfectly watery, the pancakes are cheap and plentiful and the waitresses all seem to have names from the 19th century.