Pink, White and Lavender at the UW Quad

4/5/23 University of Washington Quad

Scheduling our annual USk sketch outing at the University of Washington Quad was dicey this year. The cherry blossoms were finally close to 100 percent, but the forecast was iffy. We picked the day most likely to be dry, and the mobs showed their appreciation with their presence.

I’ve sketched blooming trees at the Quad so many times now that I try to use different media or approaches each time, and it’s always a challenge capturing that spectacular sight. This year I brought along a 9-by-12-inch watercolor pad to see if it would help to have larger paper (at right). I splattered on some pink gouache, but I’m not too pleased with the way it came out. I think I do better when I stay small.

I like the one I did in my usual A5 Hahnemühle sketchbook better. A girl dressed in a shimmering lavender quinceañera gown was having a photo shoot. Although I knew my cherry tree would look too much like a jacaranda, I took inspiration from her gown for the blossom shadows. (The fact is, the variety of cherries at the Quad has blossoms that are nearly white, not pink, so everyone who sketches them takes liberties with their hue.)

I spent the rest of the sketch outing time (which was short, since I had arrived late) taking in the wondrous fairyland that appears on the UW campus for a few short weeks each year. 

Cherries for Chandler

 

4/4/23 Crown Hill neighborhood

Just as I was about to head out for Crown Hill to check out the cherry blossoms, I heard the devastating news: Artist, urban sketcher and author Chandler O’Leary had died suddenly at the age of 41. I was so shaken that I almost cancelled my plans, but I also knew that nothing consoles or comforts me like sketching does, so I went out anyway.

The block of cherries on Dibble Avenue Northwest, which is on my annual petal-peeping tour, weren’t yet at peak; I’d say they were still at about 60 to 70 percent. It was cold enough that I might have been tempted to sketch from my car. On this day, however, I wanted to feel the chill and the wind – I wanted to feel the whole experience of being among those spectacular, old trees. I walked slowly up and down the block, recognizing ones I had sketched previously like acquaintances. Other trees surprised me because I hadn’t noticed them before.

Although I didn’t know Chandler well, I had been a fan of her work long before I took her urban sketching workshop back in 2015. I hadn’t seen her in person in a long time, but following her Instagram account always delighted me. She observed the world with a keen yet quirky eye, spotting things most of us might miss. Indeed, she went out of her way to have experiences that most of us would miss because we’re more likely to travel the faster, more convenient route. Her artwork reflects those observations with a joyful appreciation for nature, small towns, lighthouses and especially life’s many surprising oddities.

From her Instagram account where a family member had announced her death:

She was just 41 years old, and leaves behind an astonishing body of work as an author and artist. In her short life, she filled countless sketchbooks and created public art and signage, paintings, drawings, textiles, artist books, photographs—you name it, she did it. She did it with passion, dedication, and exquisite beauty. “Artist” barely encompasses all her extraordinary talents, as she was also an engaging teacher, podcaster, blogger, historian, travel expert, musician, feminist, and collaborator.

Although it had sprinkled briefly on my way there, by the time I had arrived on Crown Hill, the sky was a painfully beautiful cyan. Sketching these pink blossoms on that cold, sunny afternoon, I thought about how Japanese poets use the fleeting sakura season as a metaphor for the brevity of life. The blossoms weren’t at peak, but with all the rain and strong winds we’ve been having lately, waiting for a better time might be too late. Extraordinary as I stood there, these trees were good enough for me.

Sunny Urban Couch

 

4/1/23 Sunset Hill neighborhood

I went up to Sunset Hill to check out the cherry blossom situation, and as expected, the trees weren’t quite ready for sketching. In the neighborhood, however, I found something else I hadn’t sketched in a long time. I was so focused on pink season that I forgot that it’s also the beginning of urban couch season!

Stickered up in observance of National Pencil Day

Paper note: The bright yellow sketchbook is a brand-new Uglybook. The New York City notebook maker has a few new colors now, and 20 more are coming this month! (Yes, I already have a lot, and no, I don’t have enough.)

I recently filled my sixth Uglybook since discovering them last July. I know it seems like I should have filled more than six by now, but that's because I have 13 other colors in rotation. OK, now 14. Who knows – possibly a few more by the end of April.

Colorful and filled with sketches!

Lefty Tina Draws Right

 

3/31/23 Ballard neighborhood (Trees are forgiving, but 
utility poles, not so much. The car's not too bad, though, huh?)

A sketcher friend of mine had surgery on the arm he draws with, which is expected to be out of commission for a while (although knowing him, he’ll be sketching with his other hand soon enough). As an expression of support and solidarity, I made this sketch for him on his surgery day with my right (non-dominant) hand.

The last time I sketched with my right hand for any stretch of time was in 2020 for 63 consecutive days. Most of the practice was with my daily pandemic hand project, but I also did a few urban sketches with my right hand, too, just to see how much harder that might be. It was great practice, and it was also satisfying to see my progress as my right hand’s skills (and mostly strength) visibly improved.

Initially I had thought I might commit to making one sketch a day with my right hand until my friend recovers, but that sounds too open-ended. I’ll leave myself an out by saying I won’t necessarily do it daily, but I’m going to do it for a while – not for my friend, but for myself. (This would have made an ideal 100-Day Project! I wish I had thought of it then.) And because anything worth doing must have a hashtag, I made one: #leftyTinadrawsright

Cherries at Last (and Back to Pencils)

 

3/30/23 Maple Leaf neighborhood (on trash day)

After their overlong winter’s nap, some cherries are still yawning, but at least they’ve gotten out of bed. Although many varieties still have tight buds, I’ve spotted a few that are finally opening. These are an interesting variety – with slender trunks, they had big, chunky roots sticking out of the grass on one side only. I’m sure those roots will eventually break through the pavement.

I don’t carry gouache on my fitness walks, so all I had with me were watercolor pencils, and you know what? After all my prep with new pinks this season, I think I still like the look of pencils best. They don’t have the opacity I thought I was looking for, but now I can’t remember why I wanted it in the first place. I guess I needed to wander around for a while before I was ready to come home.

Since my previous choice of purple as the shadow color made my plum trees look like jacarandas, this time I tried a slightly dusty lavender called Aubergine (099) in the Caran d’Ache Supracolor line. I like the hue better, but its pigment level is wimpy; I had to boost the dark trunks with a green Museum Aquarelle (all my secondary triad experiments are paying off – I love mixing purple with green). The pink is the same Supracolor (081) I’ve used in previous springs, and I think I’ll stick with it.

After a brief dalliance, I'm back home with my beloved watercolor pencils. 

One thing I tried that was different was the way I activated the color. When sketching foliage, I typically apply pencil heavily to dry paper, then spritz with water. From my gouache-and-watercolor-pencil sketch the other day, I learned that I like the look of pencil applied to the wet gouache, so I tried something similar here: I spritzed the paper generously first, then applied the pencils aggressively to the wet paper. I knew the 100-percent cotton Hahnemühle paper could take it, and it did – beautifully.

OK, I’m going to settle back into my beloved watercolor pencils, stop fussing about other media (with the possible exception of gouache), and just enjoy this fleeting season of pink.

Still More Plums

 

3/29/23 Crown Hill neighborhood (gouache, watercolor pencils,Canson XL 140-lb. paper)

Although they aren’t as showy as sakura, plum trees have the benefit of blooming first, so they usually don’t have to compete. I appreciate that they give me a pink fix while I wait (impatiently) for this year’s much-delayed cherries.

3/29/23 Maple Leaf neighborhood (Pentel Milky Brush Pen,
watercolor pencils, Marvy LePen brush pen, Hahnemuhle sketchbook)

The plums also give me more opportunities to try out different media. Ironically, I’m about to give them all up for my tried-and-true watercolor pencils. I brought out all the other media because I wanted a more opaque look. But none give me the ethereal texture I love so much about colored pencils.

On my walk through Maple Leaf (left), I pulled out the Pentel Milky Brush Pen, which is new to me. With an actual brush tip, it’s better than the Uni Posca’s blunt bullet tip that I had rejected previously. I couldn’t leave it alone, though, and ended up adding more texture with pink and lavender Caran d’Ache pencils. (The lavender I chose isn’t right as a shadow color – it looks more like a jacaranda tree, which we definitely don’t have in the Pacific Northwest.)

Later the same day, I drove back up to Crown Hill (top of post) where I’d sketched my first plums with gouache. I wanted to make a larger sketch on unbound paper, so I brought a 9-by-12-inch Canson XL 140-pound watercolor pad. It’s the paper I used for all the years I was hand-binding my own sketchbooks. Although the student-grade paper isn’t ideal, the cost and convenience made the choice an acceptable compromise.

Now that I’ve gotten spoiled by Hahnemühle, though, especially the 100-percent cotton paper in the A6 size book I’ve been using lately, I really noticed the downgrade in the Canson XL. I had spritzed the paper first, then painted with gouache, leaving the surface generously wet. When I then applied colored pencils somewhat aggressively, the surface started pilling. I have been equally aggressive with the Hahnemühle (even the student-grade Akademie book) without damaging it.

Despite that paper disappointment, of the new media I’ve tried this year, the look of this combo appeals to me most: A cloud of gouache followed up with watercolor pencils for texture while the gouache is still wet. But I’m not sure the result is worth the additional “baggage” of using gouache (as before, I sketched from my car to make this one).

Front Yard Action

3/28/23 Across the street, Maple Leaf neighborhood

Ever since last August when the Honey Bucket arrived, the remodel at the house across the street has progressed apace – though most of it has been frustratingly out of my view behind the house. I’ve managed to catch the big things that had to come through the front, like the cement mixer and the plywood delivery truck, but most of the front view has been piles of junk and, of course, the Honey Bucket (once I almost caught the maintenance on the Bucket, but the service person was too fast for me).

Suddenly this week the action was in front – the porch steps were removed, as were a couple of small trees. Not just one but three small excavators have shown up to dig up dirt from various holes and move them to piles.

I came home from an appointment one day, and it was all happening at once, so I quickly dashed upstairs to our front deck to catch as much as I could. With all the yardwork happening, I feared for the little pinwheel palm that I have enjoyed sketching many times, especially when it snows, but I’m happy to see that it is being preserved.