Trash Day Musings

8/15/19 Maple Leaf neighborhood

Recently on Facebook, artist and urban sketcher Laurie Wigham posted some paintings she had made in Italy. One of a lovely church included several dumpsters in the foreground. Laurie wrote, “Should I have edited out the dumpsters from the painting of this beautiful 11^th Century church in Bellagio? I thought about it, but it seems to me that the dumpsters, messy palm trees and motor scooter are all part of the building’s existence in this time, this place. To present it in a glowing antique mist would be a lie, or at least not the story I’m interested in telling.”

I was reminded of a painting a local sketcher had made of a historic building in downtown Seattle last month. Several of us had sketched the same building that day (you can see mine here), but something was missing from his sketch: a construction crane that was prominently standing behind it. This was no oversight; he and I had even talked about the crane as we sketched side by side. (I had laughed about how it had rotated just as I was trying to draw it.) It was clear that he had made a conscious choice to omit it.

Parts 3 and 4 of the Urban Sketchers Manifesto are the following:

Our drawings are a record of time and place.
We are truthful to the scenes we witness.

As a journalist, the writer of the USk Manifesto, Gabi Campanario, probably places greater emphasis on the “truthfulness” of the scenes he witnesses than most sketchers would. While I don’t regard or follow the Manifesto as laws that must not be broken, perhaps my own journalistic training has made me think more about being truthful to the scenes I witness so that I might make a record of time and place. My personal reasons for sketching also come into play: I appreciate the stories that sketches tell, and it’s important to me that my sketches tell stories that are accurate.

We all bear artistic licenses. Every time we put implement to paper, we make choices about what to put in and what to leave out. Indeed, the act of composing is all about deciding what to include. Omitting a construction crane from a painting of a classic building is certainly a valid artistic choice; many artists would probably make the same choice. But is it a truthful record of a particular time and place? In fact, without the crane, I think the painting becomes timeless (which is perhaps the goal). The painting does tell a story – but not one about what the building looked like on July 12, 2019.

Some of us, of course, choose to include trash bins in a sketch without having much of a story to tell beyond the fact that it was a Thursday in the Maple Leaf neighborhood. But without those bins, it wouldn’t even be Thursday.

My Sketching Goals, Frustrations and Fears

7/30/14 various inks, Zig markers, Caran d'Ache
Museum water-soluble colored pencil, Canson
XL 140 lb. paper
(Balloon man at Maple Leaf Park)

Recently Larry Marshall blogged about his sketching goals – the things that motivate him as a sketcher – and he asked readers what motivates them. I realized I have done a lot of thinking about this subject myself, but I had never consolidated and articulated my thoughts into a blog post. His post prompted me to do that.

These are my sketching goals, in general order of priority:

1. Have fun. If it stops being fun, I’ll stop doing it. Life is way too short to have a hobby that doesn’t fill me with joy. That said, I’m not unwilling to challenge myself and work hard while having that fun. For example, when I’m struggling with a difficult perspective study, I don’t necessarily think of that as “fun,” but some forms of intellectual challenge are, indeed, enjoyable (in a masochistic sort of way).

2. Document my life by sketching the life around me. This is essentially my interpretation of the parts of the Urban Sketchers manifesto that mean the most to me: capturing what I see from direct observation; telling the stories of where I live and travel; being truthful to the scenes I witness.

3. In the interest of No. 2 above, speed and efficiency trump accuracy and beauty. I would love to develop my watercolor skills to the point where every sketch looked like a mini-painting. But if that were my focus, I think I would miss a lot of the world going on around me that requires greater speed and efficiency to keep up with. Capturing the moment is more important to me than making a “good” sketch. While buildings and trees make good painting models, people, animals and vehicles move and go away. In addition, I rarely travel alone, and I want the people I travel with not to be burdened by my sketching. I’d rather capture the moment quickly so that we can move on rather than feel frustrated that my companions won’t give me time to sketch.

7/31/14 Pilot Iroshizuku Ku-jaku ink
(Taekwondo demo at Queen Anne Farmers Market)

4. In the interest of both Nos. 2 and 3 above, sketch quickly without rushing. There’s a big difference between fast and hurried. I sometimes feel hurried and rushed, so I do both, and I rarely like the sketch that results. But if I relax, focus and work quickly, the sketch comes out much better. Sketching quickly takes no more time than rushing.

5. Improve my skills – both my ability to render accurately and my overall compositions. I have some conflict putting this goal after Nos. 3 and 4 above. I realize that when I slow down, I’m more likely to improve my skills than when I speed up. If I believe speed trumps accuracy, then I’m unlikely to learn to draw more accurately. But I do care about becoming a more accurate renderer. And I’ve heard from more than one source that a strong composition is 90% of a successful sketch. So I do think about accuracy and composition, study the sketches of others, take occasional workshops and read many books to gain skills. But not all of the time.

I have one more goal, but I’ll get to that in a moment. First, while I’m in this introspective mood, I’ll add a couple more thoughts.

What frustrates me most about sketching:

My growth is sporadic and not continual. During my first month as a blogger in March 2012, I mused about this very subject. “I want a straight upward trajectory, not a horizon of gently rolling hills,” I whined. Now, more than two years later, my whine hasn’t changed. I might make my best sketch ever, and then later that same day, make a total dud. I can see gradual progress over time, but then I’ll make a sketch that sets me back several months. I feel like I learn from each sketch I make; why, then, doesn’t that learning get applied directly to the next one, every time?

My greatest sketching fear:

Obviously I don’t fear revealing sketches I find fault with; I do it regularly on this blog. I don’t fear criticism, either (my years as a writer, both creative and commercial, toughened my skin). My greatest (perhaps only) sketching fear is that I will eventually hit a plateau and stop seeing any change or progress. Perhaps realistically, I can’t expect to improve forever. But that fear is there.

Which brings me to my final goal, which has no numerical priority because it’s more like an over-riding philosophy:

Sketch every day. If speed is in direct conflict with accuracy, then just make more sketches, because accuracy is bound to improve with practice. If today’s sketch is a total dud, then make another one tomorrow, which might (probably will) be better. If I haven’t seen improvement in weeks or months and I fear I’m hitting a plateau, then go into denial by sketching some more. If something is fun, do it every day. I’m convinced that quantity trumps quality.

Urban Sketchers’ Manifesto No. 6

5/20/12, F-C Pitt Artists Pen, Sakura Koi watercolor

Urban Sketchers’ Manifesto No. 6: We support each other and draw together.

On a rainy Sunday morning – the kind that would usually see me in my recliner with a second cup of coffee and the Seattle Times’ funnies – I drove out to Magnuson Park to join the Seattle Urban Sketchers at my first sketchcrawl. Introvert that I am, going alone to a social event like this – where I wouldn’t know anyone and I wasn’t sure what it would be like – is usually hard for me. The rain, the coffee and the recliner were all telling me I should skip this and go another time.

But two things pushed me out the door: One was the Seattle Times’ full-page spreads that very morning of Gabi Campanario’s vibrant sketches of the new Chihuly Garden and Glass exhibition. Talk about inspiring!

The second was the commitment I had made to myself to give this sketchcrawl thing a try. It’s part of becoming an urban sketcher and getting out into the world – and really seeing the world.

So I did – and I discovered that if there’s such a thing as an introvert’s ideal social gathering, this would be it. I met and chatted with nice people – but only for a few minutes. Then we all went our separate ways to fill a sketchbook page or three. A couple hours later we reconvened and spread our sketchbooks out on a table to share. This time, chatting was much easier because we were admiring and commenting on each other’s sketches instead of making small talk. Our amazingly varied views of Magnuson Park, including my own, enabled me to see this tiny part of the world in a way that I never had before. And I was already looking forward to participating in more sketchcrawls.

(This is the last of a series of blog posts about how I have interpreted the Urban Sketchers manifesto.)

5/20/12, Copic Multiliner SP pen, Sakura Koi watercolor

Urban Sketchers’ Manifesto Nos. 2 (Part 3) and 3

5/16/12, Copic Multiliner SP pen, watercolor, Stillman & Birn sketchbook

Urban Sketchers’ Manifesto Nos. 2 and 3: Our drawings tell the story of our surroundings, the places we live and where we travel. Our drawings are a record of time and place.

With a sense of urgency, I went back to Cloud City Coffee, this time with a mission: To sketch the Maple Leaf water tower behind its sign. Even though I’ve lived in the Maple Leaf neighborhood for nearly 25 years and have seen the tower nearly every day, it was the first time I closely examined the crisscrossed girders around it or the repeating pattern of the maple leaf motif.

After finishing the sketch, I came home and did a Google search to see if I could find out when the tower is slated to come down. According to the Maple Leaf neighborhood blog post dated Aug. 24, 2010, the city decided not to take it down after all because its antennas still generate revenue. I guess that shows how up to date I am on neighborhood news! (I make no claims to be a reportage sketcher.)

(This is one of a series of blog posts about how I have interpreted the Urban Sketchers manifesto.)

Urban Sketchers’ Manifesto No. 2, Part 2



5/13/12, Copic Multiliner SP, Tombow, Akashiya Sai, colored pencil, opaque white pen

Urban Sketchers’ Manifesto No. 2: Our drawings tell the story of our surroundings, the places we live and where we travel.

On another warm, sunny afternoon, I walked over to Cloud City Coffee, one of my favorite neighborhood coffee spots (and kind of the inspiration for my blog’s name), and sat down at a shady outdoor table. I love the funky, art deco sign. Just beyond the sign is the venerable Maple Leaf water tower, no longer used for its intended purpose, but much loved as a neighborhood icon. Sketching the sign, I suddenly remembered that the tower is destined to be taken down. I almost put it into this sketch, but decided it deserves a sketch of its own. I felt alarmed: I have to get back there again sometime soon to sketch it before it’s gone. Compelled to snap a quick picture with my phone, I stopped myself.

Taking a photo with my phone is a good way to preserve a monument in my phone. Sketching is a good way to preserve a monument in my memory.

(This is one of a series of blog posts about how I have interpreted the Urban Sketchers manifesto.)

Urban Sketchers’ Manifesto No. 2, Part 1

5/12/12, Copic Multiliner SP pen, watercolor

Urban Sketchers’ Manifesto No. 2: Our drawings tell the story of our surroundings, the places we live and where we travel.

I was wandering around the University of Washington campus on a fabulous sunny day – the kind that Seattleites are willing to wait 10 months of overcast skies for. I’ve visited the campus many times since I graduated (for the second time) in 1981, but on this visit it seemed like everything was different. Several new buildings had gone up since my last visit (PACCAR Hall? What’s that?), and pathways appeared where there used to be grass. A visitor stopped to ask me where the HUB was, the student union building where I had eaten many, many meals over the course of six years, and I had to twirl around to get my bearings before I could point him in the right direction – that’s how disoriented I felt. It’s hard to be nostalgic about one’s youth when everything looks different.

I decided to sit in “Red Square” to sketch the Broken Obelisk (a sculpture by Barnett Newman, 1963), partly because it was far less daunting than Gothic architecture, but mainly because Red Square looked the same as when I was a student. In the brick paved plaza that I had crossed countless times going to and from two libraries on either side, I could imagine, for a few moments, that nothing had changed. (End of the old fart’s walk down Memory Lane.)

(This is one of a series of blog posts about how I have interpreted the Urban Sketchers manifesto.)

Urban Sketchers’ Manifesto No. 7

Urban Sketchers’ Manifesto No. 7: We share our drawings online.

5/3/12, fountain pen, Hand Book sketchbook

When I first became aware of urban sketchers posting their drawings on blogs, Flickr and other online communities, my reaction was twofold: inspiration (Wow! I want to do that!) and intimidation (Whoa, I could never do that.). That being both the ability to draw at a certain perceived skill level and the courage to post drawings online.

Although, in general, urban sketchers seem to have a wide variety of backgrounds, I noticed that many are professional architects, and their drawings make that clear. Nothing is quite so impressive as a building rendered with perfect perspective. I integrated my two reactions and said to myself, Well, I’ll probably never be able to draw like that, but maybe I’ll practice, and if I ever get that good, I’ll start posting my drawings online.

As I continued my daily drawing practice for a few months, I started seeing improvement. Not a lot, but enough to convince me that practicing makes a difference. I would skim through the sketches I had done, see the ones that I was pleased with as well as the ones that were lame, and felt frustrated that my progress wasn’t continual.

4/26/12, F-C Pitt Artists Pen, Hand Book Sketchbook

It was around that time that I had an insight about the sketches I had been seeing online: I’ll bet most people are posting only the drawings they are pleased with and leaving the lame ones in the privacy of their closed sketchbooks! A-ha! Whether or not my insight was correct, it was the secret to eliminating intimidation and viewing the sketches of others for inspiration only. I want to do that! And I’m going to!

That’s when I began posting my own sketches online. I started with forums like the Sketching Forum and Wet Canvas, where I felt that I could tiptoe quietly, and maybe not many people would see me. That turned out to be safe.

A short time later I began this blog and vowed that I would publish sketches I’m pleased with as well as ones that I think are lame – without necessarily identifying which is which. Still safe! So maybe posting sketches online isn’t so dangerous after all.

Yesterday I posted my first sketches to the Seattle UrbanSketchers Flickr group. I see my own drawings right there next to everyone else’s. I want to do that, and I am.

(This is one of a series of blog posts about how I have interpreted the Urban Sketchers manifesto.)

5/9/12, Copic Multiliner SP, Akashiya Sai and Thin Line, Tombow blender, Hand Book sketchbook

Urban Sketchers’ Manifesto No. 5

5/5/12, fountain pen, Tombow colorless blender

Urban Sketchers’ Manifesto No. 5: We use any kind of media and cherish our individual styles.

My current favorite grab-and-go sketching medium is water-soluble brush pens used with a waterbrush for light washes. The Tombow brand of brush markers includes a colorless blender, which has the purpose of blending smoother transitions between colors and eliminating the streaky “marker” look.

I haven’t been using brush pens to color solid areas, so I haven’t tried the blender pen as described. But lately I’ve been experimenting with using the Tombow colorless blender as a wash mechanism with interesting results. (More on this later.)

5/5/12, fountain pen, Tombow colorless blender

I’ve also lately been experimenting with an old Mont Blanc fountain pen that I used briefly decades ago as a writing pen but never really warmed to. As a sketching pen, I like it much better, so I took it out one day at a coffee shop. Giving water-soluble fountain pen ink a wash with water is a popular sketching technique, so I started wondering what would happen if I used the Tombow blender instead of water. Since the blender pen is not as wet as a brush with water, I can’t get the elegant feathery washes that are (usually accidentally) possible with water. But conversely, the solid Tombow marker tip makes it possible to control the wash to a finer degree, which makes shading easier to control.

Urban Sketchers’ Manifesto No. 1, Part 2

Urban Sketchers’ Manifesto No. 1: We draw on location, indoors or out, capturing what we see from direct observation.

5/8/12, F-C Pitt Artists Pen, watercolor

Some of the most marvelous nature sketchers (Elva Paulson springs to mind) are bird watchers who get up before dawn so they can hike to the ideal location to view a particular species, and sketch through binoculars. Of course, birds move fast, so sketching them from direct observation must often be an exercise in frustration.

That sounds like too much work to me, so I go to Willawong Station at the Woodland Park Zoo, where more than 150 colorful parakeets, cockatiels and rosellas fly freely inside a large aviary. Presumably, they are moving at the same speed they would be if they were in their natural habitat, but because so many of them are concentrated in the same space, I can begin to draw one, and if it flies away, another that looks very similar will take its place as my model.

These cockatiels and eastern Rosella were, surprisingly, very patient models who perched for my sketches from start to finish. And unlike birds in the wild, these are so used to humans feeding them with a stick coated with seeds ($1 each) that they let me stand within inches of them without batting a feather. (OK, this isn't the nature sketchers’ manifesto.)

(This is one of a series of blog posts about how I have interpreted the Urban Sketchers manifesto.)

5/8/12, F-C Pitt Artists Pen, watercolor

Urban Sketchers’ Manifesto No. 1, Part 1

Urban Sketchers’ Manifesto No. 1: We draw on location, indoors or out, capturing what we see from direct observation.


5/8/12, fountain pen

From direct observation is the operative phrase here. It’s tempting to capture a person or scene first with a photograph, then sketch from the photo leisurely in the comfort of my studio. I sometimes do this when I want to practice a technique or medium that would be difficult to use on location, or when the person I want to draw is no longer living. But it always feels like cheating, and frankly, it also feels dull. When I sketch from life, it never feels that way.

This senior gentleman didn’t particularly catch my eye. He just happened to sit directly across from me in the doctor’s office waiting room, so he was an easy target. Engrossed in his book, he hardly moved at all – an ideal model. In the 10 or so minutes I took to sketch him, I started thinking about what kind of man wears a suit to a medical appointment, and then I became curious about the thick, hardbound book he was reading.

So much of life doesn’t seem interesting until I start to sketch it.

(This is one of a series of blog posts about how I have interpreted the Urban Sketchers manifesto.)

Urban Sketchers’ Manifesto No. 4

5/6/12, F-C Pitt Artists Pen, Tombow markers, Akashiya Sai markers

Urban Sketchers’ Manifesto No. 4: We are truthful to the scenes we witness.

I think the spirit of this manifesto is that “we draws it like we sees it.” We don’t make a scene prettier or otherwise alter the impression of what’s present to impose our own editorial commentary.

My problem is, as much as I want to and try to be truthful to a scene, there’s always too much of the truth available to sketch than I am able to capture. A case in point is this scene at the Ballard Market. On a sunny Sunday, the market was filled with crowds of people slowly meandering around the flower, food and produce booths, yet I managed to sketch only two individuals (plus a few vendors). I try to follow the advice of urban sketchers who are skillful at filtering out details while leaving the essence of a busy urban scene. But leaning up against a utility pole with my sketchbook, I was overwhelmed with trying to indicate the crowd without sketching the individuals. So unfortunately, the truth of the market crowd on a beautiful spring day looks more like a rainy winter morning.

(This is one of a series of blog posts about how I have interpreted the Urban Sketchers manifesto.)

Urban Sketchers’ Manifesto No. 3

4/27/12, Akashiya Sai markers, Hand Book sketchbook

Urban Sketchers’ Manifesto No. 3: Our drawings are a record of time and place.

I had only a few minutes before I had to get to the next errand on my to-do list, but it was enough time to stop at a coffee shop with outdoor seating. It was chilly and windy, yet sunny enough to make Seattleites feel hopeful that spring was on its way. Shivering, I quickly sketched this scene of the fish ‘n’ chips joint across the street, the stiff breeze flipping my sketchbook pages, when a young man startled me by asking, politely, if he could take a photo of me. He seemed amazed that I would be sitting outside a coffee shop sketching. (Because I view the drawings of a lot of urban sketchers, I feel like we are everywhere, yet I suppose we’re still a novelty.) Smiling for his iPhone camera, I thought about how he was making a record of that moment, just as I was.

(This is one of a series of blog posts about how I have interpreted the Urban Sketchers manifesto.)

Becoming an Urban Sketcher (Manifesto No. 8)

4/29/12, F-C Pitt Artist Pen, Tombow markers

I recently heard Gabriel Campanario, author of The Art of Urban Sketching, give a reading and presentation about the book. He spoke of his passion for sketching on location as a means to become familiar with a place or community – a passion that led him and fellow urban sketchers to develop a “manifesto” for urban sketching:

1. We draw on location, indoors or out, capturing what we see from direct observation.

2. Our drawings tell the story of our surroundings, the places we live and where we travel.

3. Our drawings are a record of time and place.

4. We are truthful to the scenes we witness.

5. We use any kind of media and cherish our individual styles.

6. We support each other and draw together.

7. We share our drawings online.

8. We show the world, one drawing at a time.

Seeing Gabi’s weekly sketches in The Seattle Times the past few years helped motivate me to start drawing again. His drawings of locations in Seattle – my birthplace and lifelong home town – were sights that I had seen many times, yet had never truly seen. I wanted to learn to see, and therefore experience, those locations (and any new ones that I travel to) more thoroughly, and it was clear to me that sketching them was one of the best ways to do this.

With other media I use, such as beads and rope, I occasionally work on small projects while on the go, but for the most part, I stay in my studio. As a writer, even though my laptop makes computing completely portable, I still tend to do my work at home. For that matter, other than travel, all of my personal interests are things I prefer to do at home. I’m basically an introverted homebody.

As I learned more about urban sketching, I realized that inherent in our manifesto is getting out in the world – whether that world is only as far as a neighborhood park or on a different continent. Sketching is what takes me out of the house and into the world. The eighth manifesto, to “show the world, one drawing at a time,” has a flip side: Sketching enables me to see the world, one drawing at a time.

(This is the first in a series of blog posts about how I have interpreted the Urban Sketchers manifesto.)