Another experiment combining elements from different sketchbook pages.
More sketchbook hoo-ha
I’m living in a kind of daydream
Lounge view
This is the view from my sofa, lovingly rendered in ink and pencil at about 50 x 70 cm.
My floor isn’t normally this untidy, I should make this clear. I was thinking more about the composition. The man on the screen is someone else I photographed talking about war one morning.
“I still don’t know if my wife is even alive.”
Lately I’ve been photographing people on the TV—mostly in the morning with my coffee—and then later drawing them in my book. This guy was fleeing the war in Ukraine.
Drawing the drawer
A few minutes to kill.
Le cose di prima
Cover illustrations for ‘Le cose di prima’ by Bruno Vieira Amaral.
Big thanks to Martina Rinaldi @nutrimentiedizioni
Charlie’s good tonight
Killing time with Charlie Watts.
The ever-present past
What to do with The Past? That’s always a good question. Whether it’s good stuff or bad stuff, it’s always right there at your fingertips, accumulating day on day. Maybe you’re pleased with this bit here and that little bit there. Or maybe you look back and shudder. I know I do. Either way, where you are right now is the only thing that really matters.
Joan Didion says it especially well: “I think we are well-advised to keep on nodding terms with the people we used to be, whether we find them attractive company or not. Otherwise they turn up unannounced and surprise us, come hammering on the mind’s door at 4 a.m. of a bad night and demand to know who deserted them, who betrayed them, who is going to make amends. We forget all too soon the things we thought we could never forget. We forget the loves and the betrayals alike, forget what we whispered and what we screamed, forget who we were.”
I thought William Shatner would be a good way to illustrate all this. The actor who can never get away from his most famous role. So here stands Bill, pretending he’s not at home, Captain Kirk forever banging on the door.
Jokerman
I drink to the truth, and the things we said. I drink to the man that shares your bed.
I love Bob Dylan. I don’t love everything he does—some of it really makes my ears hurt—but the way he can do words. They stick to me like sand and glue.