SLOW at Roosevelt Station (Sketch No. 6)

8/6/14 Platinum Carbon and Pilot Iroshizuku Fuyu-syogun inks,
watercolor, Pitt Artist Pen, Zig marker, Strathmore 400 140 lb. paper

Maybe my expectations are too high; I keep thinking that with all the noise, dust and movement at the Roosevelt Station site, I’m going to see the beginnings of actual buildings or something. I moved to a slightly different location this time to see something new, but as the traffic controller’s sign says, progress is SLOW. 

The Art of Gaman

8/5/14 Diamine Chocolate Brown and Fuyu-syogun inks, Canson XL 140 lb. paper

My oldest brother was a toddler, and our mom was pregnant with my second brother when they and our dad were taken away to spend the duration of World War II in internment camps. Born quite a few years after their experience, I didn’t hear much about that period of their lives from my parents, who preferred not to dwell on the past. Most of what I know about that sad, dark part of U.S. history was learned the way everyone now learns about it – from books, recorded oral histories, documentaries and art exhibits like the one currently showing at the Bellevue Arts Museum: The Art of Gaman: Arts and Crafts from the Japanese American Internment Camps, 1942 – 1946.

Imprisoned behind barbed wire in desolate locations, living in horse stalls or drafty, unplumbed barracks, more than 100,000 Americans had to learn to endure (the word gaman means “to endure the seemingly unbearable with patience and dignity”). Many found that creating art or building functional pieces helped them endure, and this exhibit showcases 120 such artifacts. Toys, chairs, jewelry, paintings – the objects ranged from simple objects of utility to exquisite works of art. My favorite was a collection of letter envelopes, each with a small watercolor sketch that someone had made to decorate it. I also enjoyed peeking at a page in a sketchbook of someone who was learning the craft of bonsai – tiny sketches of tiny trees with neatly written notes. Sadly, many of the artifacts were attributed to “unknown.” (A cherished artifact in my own home is a wood tray my grandfather had made during that time.)

8/5/14 Pilot Iroshizuku Take-Sumi ink

I didn’t spend much time sketching at the exhibit because I was too busy reading all the placards and viewing the objects. I did sketch a small ironwood sculpture of a lion carved by Shigeo Naito, who was interned in Poston, Arizona. An informative documentary was playing on a video screen, so I also sketched a couple viewing it.

Updated 8/15/14: A similar exhibit in Portland, Art Behind Barbed Wire, includes a few pieces my grandfather and father made. My brother Richard is interviewed about the exhibit on the Oregon Public Broadcast's blog.

Green Lake Piano in the Park

8/4/14 Platinum Carbon and Pilot Iroshizuku Fuyu-syogun inks, Pitt Artist Pen,
Zig markers, Caran d'Ache Museum water-soluble colored pencils, Canson XL
140 lb. paper

During my walk around Green Lake today, I spotted another Piano in the Park! This one looked like an old-fashioned robot with metallic arms and big blue hands made of utility gloves. (I’m not sure why, but the sides of the piano were painted with things like an ostrich and other birds. I suspect that more than one artist had a vision for this piano.)

A number of people stopped by to play it briefly. Heart and Soul seems to be the runaway favorite among casual piano players. Often it was kids banging around for a minute or two, like the girl in my sketch who was still draped in a towel from her swim like a caped superhero.

8/4/14 Pilot Iroshizuku Asa-Gao and Fuyu-syogun inks, Caran d'Ache
Museum water-soluble colored pencils

A young man was hovering around the piano as I finished that sketch, a bit hesitant. I walked a short distance away, and he sat down to play. I had the feeling he had played well at some point, but work or other obligations had kept him away from the keys, and he was rusty. He reminded me of all the people I’ve chatted with while out sketching – people who watch me sketch wistfully for a while and then tell me they “used to draw” at some time in their lives but haven’t in years or decades. It’s never too late, I tell them. Maybe this piano at Green Lake will inspire the young man to find a way to make time for playing again.

Maybe sketchbooks should be left in public places to inspire former sketchers, too.

CD Tree

8/2/14 Platinum Carbon and various inks, Pitt Artist Pen,
Caran d'Ache Museum water-soluble colored pencils,
Canson XL 140 lb. paper

Last week I sketched a Little Free Library a few blocks north in my neighborhood, and I knew about a second one within walking distance. I grabbed a couple of unneeded books to contribute from my over-bulging bookshelves and walked a couple blocks east.

The simple library box near the intersection of Northeast 80^th and Roosevelt Way Northeast was the intended focus of my sketch, but what really caught my eye was the “tree” growing up behind it. A tall cylinder of CDs sprouted several wire branches of CD “leaves.” 

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.

But is it Art . . . ?

8/1/14 Platinum Carbon ink, watercolor, Caran d'Ache Museum water-soluble colored pencils, Canson XL 140 lb. paper

About a year ago when Nilda and I sketched on Whidbey Island, we both wore Polartec as the typical marine layer kept the morning air damp and cold. Not so yesterday, when we had a mix of warm sunshine and clouds all day. We were there to join the Whidbey Island Sketchers and Seattle Urban Sketchers for a joint sketchcrawl at Cloudstone Sculpture Park in Freeland.

The vast park is filled with mostly abstract stone, iron, steel and earthwork sculptures, some of which are gigantic and many of which are still in progress. Many also seemed to be made of found parts – pieces that once belonged to machines or other industrial mechanical works. I spotted a well-corroded but still-bright yellow crane (with Phyllis sketching next to it), which had clearly seen many years of hard work. My only questions: Was this piece of heavy equipment a functioning part of the sculpture park? Or was it now a work of art?

8/1/14 Pilot Iroshizuku Take-sumi and Diamine Chocolate Brown
inks, Caran d'Ache Museum water-soluble colored pencils

As I was sketching it, sculptor Hank Nelson wandered by, so I asked the questions. It turned out this isn’t art at all – it’s still a highly functioning piece of equipment needed to move the large, heavy works.

I didn’t want to leave the park without sketching at least one of the actual sculptures at this fascinating outdoor gallery, so before our sketchbook sharing, I quickly sketched another artist working on a carved stone piece.

One piece I sketched earlier in the day in Langley was clearly a sculpture: the work of Georgia Gerber, a local bronze sculptor. The 1986 piece called Boy and Dog had been “dressed” with foil headgear!

8/1/14 Pilot Iroshizuku Take-sumi and Diamine Chocolate Brown
inks, Caran d'Ache Museum water-soluble colored pencils

Farewell, Travel Sketching Angst

My bag dump! (For a detailed description of my bag's contents, see "Current Favorite Art Materials" link at top right.) I don't usually include my glasses when I photograph my sketch bag contents, but I love these new purple specs (they match my bag, of course) that I got a few months ago, so I put them in. After all, they are an essential part of my sketch kit.

In three weeks, I leave for Brazil, where I’ll be attending the Fifth International Urban Sketching Symposium in Paraty!

Tote on the left, Rickshaw on
the right.

Compared to last year when I was prepping for the Barcelona symposium (it took two blog posts just to discuss the art materials I was considering), I hardly have anything to do (other than learn Portuguese and pack, both of which I’ll begin in about two-and-a-half weeks!). Much to my relief, my ever-critical bag issue – the one significant equipment failure last year – is now resolved. I recently reviewed the supply lists for the three symposium workshops I’ve signed up for, and none of the instructors is requiring or even suggesting unusual materials that I don’t already carry regularly in my everyday bag anyway. Sweet!

For transit: the Velo backpack.

A couple weeks ago when I packed for a few days in L.A., it was a similar experience. I just checked to make sure my pens were full of ink, grabbed a few signatures for my “Stefano” sketchbook, and threw my everyday Rickshaw Zero bag and its usual contents into my Rickshaw Velo backpack (for transit only; once I arrived, the Velo stayed in my hotel room). Art material packing done.

"Travel" sketching at my neighborhood park.

There’s liberation in knowing that I don’t have to bring anything “special” just because I’m traveling. (Or maybe it’s the other way around: I “travel” every day, even if it’s only to the park.) My sketching life is completely incorporated within the rest of my life – even when I’m not home.

Top view of my Rickshaw Bagworks Zero messenger bag's contents.