Sketching to happiness

All the sketches today are from a 5.5" x 8.5" sketchbook

I think this is a sketch of Mario Buatta from
a magazine photo.
(I miss the flourishes in fabric that were
his design style. In Toronto the
hotels have gone minimalist --
the opposite of comfort.)

Black marker on paper

Here is one of many sketches I did while
painting the writer, Sandra Martin's portrait.

Black marker on paper




Another view of Sandra Martin.

Peach pencil on paper

Not all of a painter's days are painting days. I feel for the daily
painters, because in the world I live in progress can
mean getting one small part of the painting right.
Some days -- like after two days of feasting and reveling
to celebrate the harvest -- are meant for sketching,
for quietly slipping back into the art mode through the
familiar feel of pen on paper -- the sketch.

My son Sam and Zoey napping.

Black marker on paper

In museums Picasso's, and Matisse's sketches stand
in harmony with their larger paintings -- acknowledged.
I have walked around many times with the audio
player in my hand listening to erudite scholars
explain the lyrical line, the absence of detail.
But in my artist's heart I know -- the painter was
taking a break, thinking things through, trying to
find relief in line, that might not have been present
that day in blocks of colour.

Or maybe it was a child's birthday, or a day spent not
painting in a café, and there it was in brief notation --
the antidote to not performing for a day, the sketch.
Ahhh. Still an artist. Still have your chops Picasso --
little did you know that in this century we'd pay millions
for your explorations. We love your sketches as much as
your great works, sometimes more.

My son Sam and Zoey the dog fast asleep.

Black ink and acrylic on paper

Have a playing-with-paper day.

Why draw when you can paint?

Sometimes in the endless thinking about painting, drawing
is a way to relax. The first drawing I'm showing you tonight
I found in one of my sketchbooks. Toph Schink says he
doesn't draw, he just paints, but he does draw while he's
painting, the way all the rest of us do. He just doesn't
separate drawing from painting.

Sketchbook study Marty's Mom

I did master classical drawing long ago in art school,
but painting in watercolour and acrylic changed me.
Today I'm trying to be myself in paint to the extent that
that's possible.

The first drawing is really a colour study I did
when I was doing a portrait of my friend Marty's
Mom. A wonderful woman, warm, intelligent
and very pretty.

Marty's Mom
acrylic on canvas
24" x 36"
Barbara Muir © 2004
sold

In university I had a friend who drew

with everything, leaves, grass, sticks,
pizza. Nothing was safe from experiments in
line and form when he was around. I loved
that wild way of working -- although I'm far
from wild -- but sometimes I try something
just for memory's sake. In my case, bits of
fruit or flower don't produce great art, but
the process is fun. Here's one done with
purple flower petals.

Sketchbook drawing of a table top grouping
in either purple Iris petal, or pansy petal

And of course I draw to fill in time, divert my mind,
capture a moment, and practice. Before my son, Christopher
left for Korea, I drew endlessly in the pub restaurant where he worked.
I had no intention of turning the drawings into paintings, I just wanted
to stop my mind from running ahead to missing my little boy, who has
grown up into such and amazing man. Drawing anchored
me in the present -- the noise, gestures, enjoyment, serious
conversations people were having in the pub. It helped me
stop my emotions from swamping me. Artists are secret
scientists. In a way every drawing that isn't expected to be
great art, is an equation waiting to happen. Coloured pencil
on heavy watercolour paper -- maybe not. Ink on bond -- not
bad.

Sketchbook study Fionn MacCool's Toronto
Never completed because dinner arrived

Have a noticing-and-enjoying-everything day.