The Great Picture Book of Everything

The Great Picture Book of Everything is the grandiose title that was attached to an unpublished encyclopedia illustrated by the Japanese master Katsushika Hokusai (1760-1849). Hokusai is doubtless the most famous Japanese artist. Although it was known that the master had made the more than one hundred drawings, they have never been exhibited in public, until now. The small drawings (each maybe the size of a postcard) are being shown by the British Museum. Happily, there is a companion book published last week. 

"The Great Wave Off Kanagawa," 1830, woodblock print

Without question, Hokusai's print known popularly as "The Great Wave," one of the "Thirty-Six Views of Mt. Fuji," begun in 1830 and completed a few years afterward. But the master worked daylight to dark most days of his ninety years and left behind thousands of prints, drawings, paintings and other works. These newly exhibited works are probably part of a much larger group, given that the Boston Museum of Fine Arts holds nearly 180 similar-sized works with similar style.  

"Cats and Hibiscus," ink on paper, 1820-40

Perhaps one of the most important facets of these images is they aren't prints, unlike so many famous works by Hokusai, but are actual drawings by his hand. Drawings are lost in traditional wood block printing so that very few exist. Here we can examine the genius of the master's hand rather than as interpreted by a block cutter. These were for an unpublished book and were therefore preserved.

"Water Fowl," ink on paper

The book that accompanies the exhibition is well worth the time and money involved.

Remembering Wayne Thiebaud

Wayne Thiebaud has died at 101. One of my favorite artists, Mr. Thiebaud was a titan in the world of painting. Although the casual observer remembers his mostly early paintings of food--pies and cakes, ice cream cones, pastries, and hot dogs—in his later years he painted dizzying cityscapes of San Francisco as well as northern California. He was also noted for his figure paintings. 

"Pies, Pies, Pies," oil on panel, 1961

 

Mr. Thiebaud had a very long career more than eight decades. His first work as an artist was as an apprentice at Walt Disney Studios when he was still in high school. During World War II he was an artist for the Army Air Force First Motion Picture Unit. Afterward he attended college in California, earning bachelor and master degrees in art. From that time onward he observed, taught and painted. And with a few short exceptions he spent the majority of his career in northern California.

"Up Street." oil, 1993

Although his subject matter was mundane in many ways, his interest wasn't specifically in the items but in their shapes and colors, and the fall of light. He was a master at manipulation of paint. His still life works of food are manifestly just oil paint but his handling makes them mouth watering, even so. He loved gum ball machines not because they were machines but because of the repetitive colored circles of gumballs within the globes of the dispensers. Because of subject matter like that, more than handling, he was often lumped into the circles of Pop Art but his aesthetic sense was never ironic in the way, say Andy Warhol's was, and he often rejected the label. A realist down to his toes he still strove for the abstract, later realizing that goal in his aerial landscapes of San Francisco streets and the countryside near Sacramento.

In part, Mr. Thiebaud has been an inspiration to me simply because he worked daily at his art until his death. He was quoted by his gallery as saying he had a "...neurotic fixation of trying to learn to paint." Because painting is more than the output of the artist; it's a learning process start to finish, if you let it be. 

Goodbye and thank you for a wonderful career and for your inspiring role model. 

"Farm Channel," 1996

"Winding River," oil, 2002

"Jackpot Machine," oil, 1962

"Two Seated Figures," oil, 1964

Happy Christmas

"Earthrise," photo by NASA 1968

Disegna

The quote, "Disegna Antonio, disegna e non perder tempo" is worth revisiting. A couple of years ago I posted about drawing using that title for the blog. The translation, from a note by Michelangelo Buonarotti to one of his students is "Draw Antonio. draw and don't waste time." This advice from a half-milennium in the past is still fundamental to good art. 

"Felon," graphite/chalk on paper

Drawing isn't simply making an image of something. Sure, realists like me concentrate on representation. We may exaggerate or change the image but we want our paintings and drawings to look like the object or person, even then. Drawing is a critical skill in representing reality. You might say it's not so critical for abstractionists but that's arguable. For one thing, you must understand the reality of something before you can break it into component parts (abstract it). Drawing is even useful for non-objective painters. Jackson Pollock memorably worked very very hard to exclude any marks that looked like something in the real world, for example. You must know what you're excluding as well as including in the work you're making. 

So for me, drawing is an every day activity, and has been for decades. Besides whatever painting or other artwork or activity, I set aside an hour or so for drawing, usually in the mornings. But over the years I've drawn in my studio, in coffee shops, airport waiting areas, meetings, concerts, and even in movies. Drawing is the chain running through my work and holding everything together. 

After daVinci, digital

For a long while the majority of my drawings have been digital, primarily because of convenience, but of course digital drawing is tougher when you're out and about. These days digital tablets are beginning to catch up, though the vast majority of my digital work is done on a Wacom display tablet. These astonishing devices are actually pressure-sensitive video monitors that you draw on directly. That is, the display is like an electronic drawing board. Anyway, the convenience--just turn it on--is hard to beat, and so is the clean up. 

"Rooster," ink on paper

What We Miss

A lot of the things we're accustomed to have nearly disappeared during the pandemic. Some are obvious--concerts, restaurant dining, handshakes, and so on. But there are other items, perhaps less commonly encountered, that we miss only when we think about it. And of course Joni Mitchell's old lyric, "...you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone" certainly applies. Lately I've been thinking about things I miss during these months of emergency. 

One of my favorite places here is the Better Homes and Gardens Test Garden, on the western edge of downtown. It's a lovely spot, shady and cool, with the soft music of flowing water. It's only open to the public on Fridays for a brief time--and may have been closed completely during the pandemic. Regardless, I happened upon the watercolor sketches below, from a visit a few years ago and they reminded me of how much I love to visit. A small thing I miss while the world suffers.

"Looking North, the Gardens," wc on paper

"Better Homes and Gardens Demo Garden," wc on paper

 An Iowa event that many of us have missed is the State Fair. Although it was cancelled in 2020, for some reason it was held this year, though I did not go. The Fair is an institution here and in some ways one of the most egalitarian gatherings. It brings all classes, all locales, essentially every stratum of society, together. It's a celebration of the bedrock of the state and region and it's likely one of the largest (certainly the most famous) in the country. Perhaps by next year the corona virus will have burned through and disappeared. I will go then.

"On the Grand Concourse, Iowa State Fair," wc on paper

"The Tram, Iowa State Fair," wc on paper

The return to normal is slow, impeded by many uncertainties and by our own human frailty. We can only follow the science and live through it.

Winter Color

When winter rolls around a lot of folks complain about the drab look of the world. After the brightness of autumn it's no wonder that winter colors are harder to appreciate. But if you look there is always color everywhere in the world. It takes looking and seeing, though. 

Here's a small watercolor from a few years back that shows what I mean about winter color. The painting was done in February--by definition the dead of winter--but there's a great deal of color in the woods and ground. Dry, dormant grasses lay flat on the banks of the creek; the soils here and there range in color from rusty to dark like humus; branches in the distance are no longer distinct but their color hangs in the air. No, the world isn't drab and monotonous in winter. Just look around. 

"Before the Snow," watercolor on paper, 5x9

Along My Creek

"Downstream, Druid Hill Creek," oil on panel, 12x9, 2020, available

This has come up other times, but over the past few years of plein air paintings--watercolors and oils--one recurrent subject for me has been "my" creek. It flow through, south to north, probably not all that much different than it was decades ago. It's spring-fed and always runs, a few inches to several feet deep. Although I actually live less than ten minutes from downtown Des Moines we have abundant wildlife along the water--deer, grounhogs, foxes, even bobcats. It is a scrap of wilderness in the middle of an urban area. 

"Downstream," wc on paper, 8x10, 2020

"Winter on the Creek," casein on paper 8x10, 2019

Like many I chose this subject because of easy availability (just outside my studio window). Druid Hill Creek has become an important subject for me by simply being there, rather like Monet's garden in Giverney. The creek has many moods, many different faces, depending on the season. And because water and foliage present interesting challenges for study, I've worked on pictures of it from several viewpoints and in all seasons. 

As the seasons go by images of the creek in all kinds of weather will continue to accumulate, no doubt.

Mountain Vista

Although aspens grow here in Iowa it's out west in the mountain states where you see vast stretches of bright gold, in autumn. In fact a miles-long stand of aspens in Utah is known to be a single organism--each tree stem is a clone of the original. This painting isn't based on that stand of trees but on another at Estes Park, in Colorado. Although we've visited various locales in the Rockies over the years, Estes Park is not one of them. In this case I used a friend's snapshot for reference material, with her kind permission. 

"Estes Park," oil on panel, 11x14, available.

The Rockies provide dramatic vistas that tax the painter's skills in representing three dimensions--especially great distance--on a flat surface. The wide variation in yellows was another challenge.
 

Autumn Blaze

Now that December has arrived, few trees have held their leaves and those that have are clinging to dried, dark and less interesting bunches, altogether less interesting than a few short weeks ago. While sorting files I ran across this plein air painting of the Raccoon River, done in late October. The trees along the banks were glorious and yellow--almost as bright as those van Gogh yellows of his final few years. Although reality is bare trees and subtle hues I'm not ready to let go of the glory of the fall.

"Autumn Color on the River," oil on panel, 9x12

"Autumn Color on the River" is a plein air painting, executed on the spot the last two days or so of October on warm autumn mornings. The time meant changing light, so it's a very impressionistic take on the bright fall colors.

Winter Looms

Saturday brought another session of sketching in the afternoon. Luckily the weather was reasonable, if not really warm, though the wind was fairly brisk most of the early afternoon. We went to Union Park, a beautiful spot above the east side of the Des Moines River. With the trees now leafless you could see the downtown skyline against the sky with a curtain of trees in front. The river flowed silvery at the foot as well. You could almost feel winter, crouching behind the horizon.

I sat at the top of the hill above the park entrance and gazebo to sketch. But the wind! At first it wasn't so bad but the gusts made it hard to keep the watercolor sketchbook on my knee. Facing the conditions I decided to be as broad and minimal as I could in painting the scene. I drew a quick layout, then washed on a cerulean sky. Next I mixed a warm dark for the bank and skyline then worked in the trees in the foreground and gave the river some dark reflections. A technical pen helped with the finish. I emphasized certain parts of the buildings by reinforcing the darks and added branches, twigs, the far river bank, and a few details here and there. The painting below is about 5x10 in my sketchbook.

The King's Painter

Lately I've been reading a new biography of Hans Holbein (1497-1543), The King's Painter:The Life of Hans Holbein, by Franny Moyle. Just published, it is the first biography I've read of the great master, although I've admired his work for decades. For me, and I suspect for many, Hans Holbein the Younger (his father was an artist too) was born in Augsburg, Germany but spent the majority of his working life in Basel, Switzerland. Even so, it is mostly his works from England that attract attention. The justly famous Portrait of Sir Thomas More, the great English lawyer, scholar, humanist and statesman is a perfect example. It is now in the Frick Collection in New York.Scatt

Hans Holbein the Younger, "Sir Thomas More," oil on panel, 1527

Sir Thomas More was a staunch supporter of the Catholic Church against the Protestant Reformation. Although he met favor with Henry VIII, the English king, he was forced to retire after Holbein painted him. Henry made himself head of the English church, removed power from the Pope and therefore allowed himself to marry Anne Boleyn.

"The Ambassadors," oil on wood, 1533

In any event, the new biography is a thorough one, though the author seems to digress a bit too often for me. My copy is an electronic one, with illustrations at the end. One needs to refer back and forth in order to completely comprehend the author's descriptions of particular paintings, of which there are many. That complaint aside, the book is well written for a general audience, rather than a limited one of connoisseurship. In particular, the author explores Holbein's penchant for allusion and perspective in his work, none less striking than The Ambassadors, his portrait of two French men who had come to England on diplomatic missions. The most striking feature of the work is the anamorphic skull in the foreground, which can only be understood as a skull from an extreme angle. 

Ms. Moyle has written an engaging and interesting biography of Hans Holbein that nearly anyone who enjoys art would find entertaining.

MVIS 10th Annual Show

The name of the Missouri Valley Impressionist Society (MVIS) sounds like a regional organization, but membership is actually open to artists from everywhere. Actual physical exhibits are held only in states in the Missouri River watershed, but otherwise the organization is a national one. Most exhibitions are limited to members. 

The 10th Annual Juried Art Show by members opened last weekend at the Albrecht-Kemper Museum of Art in St. Joseph, Missouri. This year I was honored that my plein air oil, "Upstream, April Light" (below) was juried into the exhibition. It's a painting of Druid Hill Creek, which flows north just outside my studio. When this was painted the honeysuckle that drapes the banks is spring green against darker trunks, shadows and leaf litter, so much so it almost glows. This work was painted on the spot, outdoors. It was a pleasant, soft spring day with warm sun and a gentle zephyr of a breeze. One of the exhilarating challenges of outdoor painting is trying to capture the fleeting moment, the flash of bright leaves against dull backgrounds, the ripple of smooth water over a rocky bottom, all set off by subtle shadows. Sometimes as you're painting you think, "this is never going to work," but thank goodness a lot of the time it does. This one was fun, once it was finished.

This year's the MVIS Juried show runs through the new year, to January 9th. It's a beautiful show. Other plein air works from last year and this are collected on my website. www.garyhoff.com/collections/pleinair. 

"Upstream, April Light," oil on panel, 9x12, currently available

One Year Ago

 

About a year ago, November 5 to be exact, I painted the north shore point of Gray's Lake, our local gem of a park. It was morning, probably about 10, and sunlight slanted low from left to right, filtering through bare trees across the distant bank. The sun was bright on the tall grasses and sand along the shore and the still water gave back beautiful reflections. Iowa in autumn. Wonderful.

The Asian Pavilion

Back in July I posted about the Asian pavilion, a beautiful Chinese-style building set on the east bank of the Des Moines River across from downtown. It's the central feature of the Robert Ray Asian Gardens. The garden area includes stone lanterns, sculptural rock formations and decorative plantings. I had painted an 11x14 plein air of the pavilion that I included in the blog, enjoying the way the roof lines and the curves step back, so like branches of a huge tree. Mostly that time I wanted to capture morning light on the roof and surrounding tree branches. Since then the gardens and river have become a favorite for plein air work and those paintings in turn fuel later studio compositions.

"Landmark," oil on panel, 9x12, available

This is a studio painting derived in part from plein air studies like that one. In this small oil my intent was to contrast textures from sky to trees to roof. The roof and its ornamentation compelling sandwiched between the organic forms. The deep reds and greens of the pavilion against broken clouds made a satisfying pattern of abstraction. 

This particular work is featured this month on my website. 

The Greatest Generation

A few years back a newscaster published a book about those who came of age during the Great Depression,and fought in the Second World War or worked selflessly at home during the conflict. They did what they did because it was the right thing to do. That generation, born roughly during the first quarter of the 20th century, are passing now, and the youngest of them still living are in their nineties.

Congressman Neal Smith

Not long ago, one of the greatest of that generation died at 101 years old. Neal Smith was his name, and he was born and lived his life here in Iowa. He worked farming and running a gas station before the war. During the war he fought in the Pacific Theater as a bomber pilot, where he was shot down and earned a Purple Hear. After the war he attended college, then law school, and eventually ran for the House of Representatives. Although he disliked Washington he often said he kept returning because that was where there was work to be done. In the end he served 36 years in Congress, longer than anyone from Iowa ever had. Neal Smith was soft-spoken, humble, and dedicated to public service. In recognition of his contribution to the nation and his state he was honored many times while he still lived. The Federal Building in Des Moines bears his name, and so does an enormous nature preserve in the central part of the state, among others. 

I was privileged to know him as a fellow member of a local service club, which he attended almost without fail until reaching nearly 100. The pandemic prevented his attending during the last year or so of life, but before that he was a fixture at meetings, where it was my privilege to spend time discussing all sorts of issues and ideas with him. Even at his advanced age, Neal was keenly interested in national and state politics, social trends, and new ideas. We will miss his gentle smile and quiet wisdom. Truly he was an eminent person in the Greatest Generation.

Aspens in Iowa

Most people associate aspen trees with the mountains. But aspens grow quite well here in Iowa too. This stand of buttery yellow ones has flourished here, now reaching almost fifty feet in size. 

I painted these in one of my larger watercolor sketchbooks using a set of "inktense" watercolor cakes from Derwent. The colors just seem to pop.

Iowa Prairie

Northwest of Des Moines is Jester Park, an enormous area encompassing woods and prairie and bordering a big reservoir, Saylorville Lake. The park has a golf course, equestrian center, nature center, outdoor recreation center and much more. Last summer I was part of a small group of invited artists who spent two days painting outdoors, and I posted several paintings here from that event. The paint out was intended to promote the county conservation board, which superintends it, as well as the park itself. 

"Jester Park Prairie," oil on panel, 2021

One of the views at the western border of the park is a patch of Iowa prairie that also encloses a sculpture walk with full-size bronzes of various animals that inhabited the area--bison, elk, and so on. It was fun and instructive to paint the roll of the landscape, and the dozens of colors it held.

Blazing

This fall the weather has been wet--more than six inches of rain through October--but not so very cool. In fact we've yet to have even a light frost along Druid Hill Creek. The trees are changing more slowly, mostly rust and red with tipping yellow-greens here and there. As you'd expect, leaves have been fluttering in the crisp northern breeze. 

Outside my studio, the small trees along the creek bank have suddenly blazed into a mass of golden yellow. I stood at the window and sketched them in pencil and watercolor, not spending any time on detail. Using a set of Derwent "Intense" colors gave an idea of the saturated yellow and yellow-orange leaves against a bright clear sky.

More Metal

Only a few days remain in Metal Month, my version of an event called Inktober. My goal has been to do at least one metalpoint drawing every day, as a way to practice and refine skills. Ten days of travel out of state caused a bit of disruption, but so far I've managed more than twenty drawings, mostly with silver, though a couple of goldpoint drawings sneaked in too. 

In this drawing of a middle-aged man, it was the sidelong, wary expression that was most attractive, but the off-center hat, jowly cheeks and mustache were added attractions. This one is on a piece of fairly rough paper rather than on a specially prepared surface. Most metalpoint drawings these days seem to be executed on paper or some other surface that has been given at least one coat of liquid silverpoint ground. This one is about 5x9 inches.

Many past masters have made silverpoint drawings, and copying their work has been a good way to work on the mechanical aspects of the medium. That is, since it's difficult to eradicate the marks made with a metalpoint stylus the artist must use special care to place each mark accurately as well as strive hard to give each mark the right degree of darkness. Metalpoint has a much narrower range of values available, which adds to the challenge. This particular drawing of a sneering woman is from a photo I snapped many years ago. It was done in my metalpoint book which has been prepared as mentioned above with a brushed-on liquid ground. 

During these final days of October my plan is to draw more figures. The drawing to the right is a study of a figure in a classic sculpture "Laocoon and His Children," made nearly two thousand years ago in ancient Greece or Rome. It was discovered in 1506 to the delight and inspiration of Michelangelo. I was attracted by the sinuous, muscular torso of Laocoon. 

Only a few more days and a few more figures.

Fall Color

"Autumn Color," watercolor on paper

One of the great joys of living in the upper midwest is the changing seasons. Say what you will about the wonderful weather in places like Arizona and Florida, for me an endless summer is boring. Here in Iowa, the crisp days of autumn are a relief from hot days that are often sticky with humidity. As for winter, seems to me you can't have summer without it.

"Grandview Park," watercolor on paper

Anyway, the autumn give us pleasant days, often with the more oblique light of sunny days that makes the trees glow brilliantly. As the season matures I expect to spend many more days outdoors.

Besides watercolor, of course, I spend a lot of time working plein air in oil colors.

Favorite Artists 16 - Albrecht Durer

"Self Portrait at 13," silverpoint

For the past few years this Favorite Artists series has spotlighted a number of my favorites but to my surprise Albrecht Durer (1471-1528) has yet to receive a full post. He was an indisputable great whose work comprises a wide range of media and genres. His expertise in oil, watercolor, ink, print making, and other artistic pursuits marks him as one of the very greatest of all time.

Albrecht Durer was born in Nuremburg to a goldsmith with the same name (Durer the Elder) and his wife. By age thirteen he was obviously a talented draftsman, even before four years of apprenticeship. Near the end of his training he made a diptych (or possibly two pendant portraits) of his parents (below). The portrait of his father has been known for a long while, but the portrait of his mother was only rediscovered forty years ago.

"Portrait of the Artist's Father," oil on panel, 1490

"Portrait of the Artist's Mother," oil on panel, 1490

After his apprenticeship he traveled, spending time in Venice, where he was exposed to the great works and masters of his day. Returning to Nuremburg in 1495, he began an exceptional career as a painter and print maker and was famous all over Europe. In

"The Four Horsemen," woodcut, 1498

 particular, his series of 15 woodcuts depicting scenes from the Christian Book of Revelation, Apocalypse (below), was most famous. He seems to have learned early on that there was good income in sales of prints and made many throughout his career. But he was a not only a master oil painter but also a master of watercolor, as his Large Piece of Turf (1503) and other works clearly demonstrate. 

In 1505 he again journeyed to Italy, but as a famous artist he gained commissions and more fame. While there he visited Venice again but also spent time in Bologna, Florence, and Rome. His Christ Among the Doctors (1506) shows the influence of daVinci--note the grotesque faces. By 1507 he had returned to Nuremburg but with a wealth of influences from the southern Renaissance. His reputation continued to grow throughout the rest of his life, so that the Holy Roman Emperor Maximilian commissioned him and kept him busy until 1519. Durer remains the premier artist of the northern Renaissance.

Below are a selection from Durer's vast oeuvre, including probably his most famous "Young Hare," a watercolor. 

"The Young Hare," watercolor, 1502

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Praying Hands," ink and chalk, 1508

 

"Self Portrait," oil on panel, 1500

---

Related posts:

Family Portraits

Favorite Artists
Favorite Artists 2--Chardin
Favorite Artists 3--Grant Wood
Favorite Artists 4--Diego Velazquez
Favorite Artists 5--Andrew Wyeth
Favorite Artists 6--Wayne Thiebaud 
Favorite Artists 7 - Edward Hopper
Favorite Artists 8- Nicolai Fechin
Favorite Artists 9- Rembrandt 
Favorite Artists 10-Hokusai
Favorite Artists 11-Franz Hals

Favorite Artists-12-Vincent 

Favorite Artists 13-John Sargent
Favorite Artists 14-Thomas Eakins 

Favorite Artists 15-Ilya Repin

 

More on Metal Month

As posted a while back, October is a Metal Month for me. That is, my drawing plan for this month has been to do at least one metalpoint every day. The genesis was an event founded some years ago by an artist who decided to do an ink drawing every day of October, and called it Inktober, his stated purpose being to hone his ink drawing skills. Since then the idea has taken off so that now many do some sort of daily drawing during the month of October and post it online. 

So my purpose in doing and posting a metalpoint drawing every day is simply practice, and more practice. Metalpoint drawings aren't much different from drawings with graphite or chalk or any other medium although there are significant differences. The range of darks possible with metal is more narrow, so that you have to be very careful with values. And of course you can efface metalpoint marks, depending, but erasing them without damaging the surface is problematic at best.

"Cyclamens," silverpoint on gesso panel, 4x6, 10-4-21

This drawing of a group of cyclamen blossoms is from a reference I shot some years ago. In this case, my interest wasn't just the drawing but also the support. Silverpoint is done best on a slightly abrasive ground like gesso or the special silverpoint grounds you can buy. This little panel was certainly suitable for the metal, and the darks are attractive.

Untitled, silverpoint on paper, 5x7

The drawing to the left is another silverpoint, this time on a kind of paper that's rough enough to accept the metalpoint marks. This particular drawing was based on an online photo reference from a few years ago. This paper is relatively thin and won't rub off enough silver to make darks very deep. So a way to overcome the paper's lower level of abrasion is to cross-hatch, as I did in this image. Even so, the darks aren't very dark.

Untitled, silverpoint on prepared paper, 5x9

The evergreen in the silverpoint drawing on the right is outside my studio window. It's part of a group of three or four that are thirty feet tall, or so. This drawing began as an experiment with paper. I have a sketchbook that I prepped with a metalpoint ground to make it usable--otherwise the paper was too slick. The ground comes as a liquid and is simply brushed thinly onto whatever surface one is preparing. The paper in this sketchbook is substantial enough to accept the ground without much cockling. I've been using it for metalpoint drawings this month while experimenting with other surfaces. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Figure, silverpoint on paper, 5x7

The figure below is another that I did early this month in my metalpoint sketchbook. This figure is a professional model. Although the paper surface was one of my interests in doing this particular drawing, mostly I was interested in trying very very hard to make an accurate line drawing with firm lines. Using a broad point on the silver stylus allows wide lines. Also, one of my habits is to use a kind of searching line as I draw, sometimes moving it a lot or making furry, scratchy marks. Here I wanted to see a solid drawing without any of that. Surprisingly, this drawing felt considerably more free than some of the earlier ones.

The month continues, more to be posted in a week or two.