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I've really been enjoying carrying a sketchbook and my Sailor fude fountain pen on my morning walks in the park. I'm mostly sketching the forest, but the above right is the newly closed, much lamented Memphis College of Art, where I took a couple of classes on printmaking that changed the trajectory of my career.
Today I saw a bunny skipping across the path in front of me. He didn't stay around for me to sketch, but I got my book out immediately, drew him from that image in my mind, and drew the path in front of me as well. Later in the walk I followed the owl around the forest, though again in fleeting ways. I wrote down the experience so I'd have it in the place where I'm recording these forest impressions this spring.
Today I saw a bunny skipping across the path in front of me. He didn't stay around for me to sketch, but I got my book out immediately, drew him from that image in my mind, and drew the path in front of me as well. Later in the walk I followed the owl around the forest, though again in fleeting ways. I wrote down the experience so I'd have it in the place where I'm recording these forest impressions this spring.
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Rather unintentionally, here are my two new main pursuits across one spread of the Quarantine Journal. I've always enjoyed birds but have never watched them as intently and intentionally as I have this spring. Likewise I have always enjoyed tomatoes, and I've had an herb bed in the past, but I'm not much of a gardener. I put in a new herb bed (the old one had been totally overgrown after several years of way too much travel), added tomatoes (which I've tried without success before, but we'll see), and added a few blueberry bushes and a fig tree. Also things I've tried before and killed. Although in my defense, the fig tree was doing fine until a large masonry wall fell on top of it, which I don't count as a mark against my gardening skills.
I've gotten decoyed off the journal in recent days as I have dived headlong into the forest ABC book. I tend to do immersion in new projects while the energy is flowing and the images in my head are fresh. But tonight I have my first few tomatoes ready to pick, so I thought I would celebrate. The outdoor tomato plants are behind the curve, but this one pot is sitting in the window in my laundry room. I thought I'd try one that the squirrels couldn't get to. So far that's been a success.
I've gotten decoyed off the journal in recent days as I have dived headlong into the forest ABC book. I tend to do immersion in new projects while the energy is flowing and the images in my head are fresh. But tonight I have my first few tomatoes ready to pick, so I thought I would celebrate. The outdoor tomato plants are behind the curve, but this one pot is sitting in the window in my laundry room. I thought I'd try one that the squirrels couldn't get to. So far that's been a success.
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I’m continuing work on the Old Forest alphabet book this week and having such fun doing it. It starts with sketches in the forest on my daily walk, though I’m having to use photos for most of the birds. I’ve sketched some, but many won’t hold still for me that long. I’ve got years’ worth of sketchbooks with forest sketches spread out on my back porch table at the moment. Since the weather is lovely, I’m taking advantage of it and working outside. This is a nicely small, portable project that lends itself beautifully to the back porch. The waterproof ink is taking ages to dry, so I wait overnight to erase any pencil and scan in the black and white (I’m pondering a coloring book to go with it) before getting out the paints. I’ve only got one double spread painted so far, but the majority is drawn out and inked now, which feels good. I haven’t felt this much like my old workaholic self since March, so I’m enjoying the project immersion, whether or not this really goes anywhere.
It’s a right feeling side note to my Walter Anderson Museum work too. I’ve been dipping into Anderson’s Horn Island Logs, and I’ve realized that Overton Park is my (blessedly easier to get to) Horn Island. The place I continue to visit and paint that continually inspires me. Anderson did at least one children’s book as well. All of this feels like an appropriate journey to be on ahead of my show at his museum. And I, very gratefully, have time for a bit of a tangent. I’m also hoping that this energy helps me refocus on the prints as well once I get the ideas here out on paper before I lose them.
The birding has really played into this project as well and given it a richness. Two years ago I played around with ideas for an alphabet book of trees, but broadening it out to include my daily forest encounters is much better. I’ve also more narrowly focused it on the forest I walk in daily instead of it being North America writ large. Much better and more personal, and much more in line with Anderson too. Sometimes ideas have to kick around a while to fully ripen. Staying home and deeply paying attention to my surroundings this spring have really let this idea grow into its own.
It’s a right feeling side note to my Walter Anderson Museum work too. I’ve been dipping into Anderson’s Horn Island Logs, and I’ve realized that Overton Park is my (blessedly easier to get to) Horn Island. The place I continue to visit and paint that continually inspires me. Anderson did at least one children’s book as well. All of this feels like an appropriate journey to be on ahead of my show at his museum. And I, very gratefully, have time for a bit of a tangent. I’m also hoping that this energy helps me refocus on the prints as well once I get the ideas here out on paper before I lose them.
The birding has really played into this project as well and given it a richness. Two years ago I played around with ideas for an alphabet book of trees, but broadening it out to include my daily forest encounters is much better. I’ve also more narrowly focused it on the forest I walk in daily instead of it being North America writ large. Much better and more personal, and much more in line with Anderson too. Sometimes ideas have to kick around a while to fully ripen. Staying home and deeply paying attention to my surroundings this spring have really let this idea grow into its own.
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I think many people are seeing their surroundings more deeply and in new ways this year. I have always loved the forest and found inspiration there, but more and more I am seeing the fleeting birds as well as the steady trees. Jude recently sent me Sibley's big bird guide, and it has been a delight. Then yesterday, after I posted about the heron nests, a facebook friend named Leslie wrote me and said she was clearing out some family things and would I like a pair of binoculars. I was both touched and delighted. Her mom isn't well, and they've been downsizing. I remember finding happy homes for some of my family things after turning my dining room into a printing press room instead. It meant a lot to have people enjoy those things I wasn't using, instead of just dumping them at a charity. I told Leslie, kind enough to bring them that very day, that I would think of her and her mom Virginia as I used the binoculars.
They're perfect. So exactly what I needed. I went straight to the heron nests again and watched the babies. The mother wasn't around, but the babies were edging gingerly along the branches, preening, shaking out their wings, and generally putting on a show. I took a chair (always in my car now, for visiting friends outdoors without having to touch anyone else's things) and sat and watched and sketched in my lap. It was a delightful evening. This morning over breakfast I did a picture of the book and binoculars for the journal. They certainly deserve prominence at this time. And I also want to remember the kindness of a near stranger who follows my art reaching out and giving me another tool to make it.
They're perfect. So exactly what I needed. I went straight to the heron nests again and watched the babies. The mother wasn't around, but the babies were edging gingerly along the branches, preening, shaking out their wings, and generally putting on a show. I took a chair (always in my car now, for visiting friends outdoors without having to touch anyone else's things) and sat and watched and sketched in my lap. It was a delightful evening. This morning over breakfast I did a picture of the book and binoculars for the journal. They certainly deserve prominence at this time. And I also want to remember the kindness of a near stranger who follows my art reaching out and giving me another tool to make it.
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It was a magical day today. I took my bike down to the farmers market, and I did an extra loop through a gorgeous old neighborhood in Memphis to look at the houses and get a little extra exercise. This week I hit 300 miles on my bike for the year so far. For some of my friends, that's small potatoes, but since I didn't learn to ride until last summer, it's been worth celebrating. So I need to do at least that again before the end of the year!
Not only did I see some lovely old houses, but I saw some lovely old friends as well. I had two very good chats with people I hadn't seen since all this craziness started. That was good enough, but then Kevin and Erin told me about two heron nests in the neighborhood -- that I'd been whizzing underneath on my bike without realizing for some weeks now, watching houses and traffic instead.
It was glorious. They're right out over the sidewalk, so anyone can stop to watch (and the neighbors out were really kind about it, even pointing out the second nest I hadn't spotted yet). The babies are huge, almost fledged. I'm so glad I got there in time to see them. And one of the mamas walked down a branch and took a bath/preened herself for a long time. I got a great look at different angles of her head and beak and gorgeous long plumage that wouldn't be out of place at Ascot.
My bike was mostly falling over, too heavy with all my produce for the week for the kickstand to hold, so I was juggling it, and then my fountain pen started leaking badly as I was drawing. I finally did totally lose control of the bike, and it went over onto the pavement. I had a couple of busted peaches as a snack when I finally got home. And you can see fingerprints and smudges all over the sketchbook page. But my sketches are better than the super small i-phone photos I got -- the herons are way high up. I did get one short video of the joyful cacophony in one of the nests, which I'm adding at the bottom for fun. I'm so grateful for this new focus on birds through the quiet, at home spring. It's been a gorgeous new facet of the world to learn about and pay attention to.
I spent a lot of the rest of the day (lunch and work) at the back porch table with birdsong and the fan (and, realistically, a couple of really loud leaf blowers nearby for a bit). I just started a second volume of the Quarantine Journal (top image, the neat one) -- I finished the first book I had started. I used my messy sketches and also my new Sibley bird book to double check colors some. I'm so grateful I'd thought to tuck in my sketchbook when I left this morning. I wanted this magical day in my big and colorful journal where I would remember it.
Not only did I see some lovely old houses, but I saw some lovely old friends as well. I had two very good chats with people I hadn't seen since all this craziness started. That was good enough, but then Kevin and Erin told me about two heron nests in the neighborhood -- that I'd been whizzing underneath on my bike without realizing for some weeks now, watching houses and traffic instead.
It was glorious. They're right out over the sidewalk, so anyone can stop to watch (and the neighbors out were really kind about it, even pointing out the second nest I hadn't spotted yet). The babies are huge, almost fledged. I'm so glad I got there in time to see them. And one of the mamas walked down a branch and took a bath/preened herself for a long time. I got a great look at different angles of her head and beak and gorgeous long plumage that wouldn't be out of place at Ascot.
My bike was mostly falling over, too heavy with all my produce for the week for the kickstand to hold, so I was juggling it, and then my fountain pen started leaking badly as I was drawing. I finally did totally lose control of the bike, and it went over onto the pavement. I had a couple of busted peaches as a snack when I finally got home. And you can see fingerprints and smudges all over the sketchbook page. But my sketches are better than the super small i-phone photos I got -- the herons are way high up. I did get one short video of the joyful cacophony in one of the nests, which I'm adding at the bottom for fun. I'm so grateful for this new focus on birds through the quiet, at home spring. It's been a gorgeous new facet of the world to learn about and pay attention to.
I spent a lot of the rest of the day (lunch and work) at the back porch table with birdsong and the fan (and, realistically, a couple of really loud leaf blowers nearby for a bit). I just started a second volume of the Quarantine Journal (top image, the neat one) -- I finished the first book I had started. I used my messy sketches and also my new Sibley bird book to double check colors some. I'm so grateful I'd thought to tuck in my sketchbook when I left this morning. I wanted this magical day in my big and colorful journal where I would remember it.
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I'm continuing to carry my small book plus a black Sailor fude pen on my morning power/dog walk in the forest. Not my whole big kit, but I did pull out an ugly but functional (and not as hot as a day pack) butt pack I won years ago in a kayak race (LOTS of people won them -- I wasn't particularly high in the standings). It's handy for this, though I may have to use it for water for Mr. Darcy instead as the summer goes along. The water fountains are shut off because of Covid, and I wouldn't feel good about even him using one right now anyway. For now, though, I've got my book out with me daily. It was great today because Mr. Darcy spotted another turtle for me. They're pretty laid back, and this one let me draw him as well.
As I've been working towards my WAMA show as well, I've realized that Overton Park is my Horn Island. Much easier to reach than Anderson's main landscape muse, which works for me as a city girl, but it functions the same for inspiration. I'm there daily when I'm not traveling, and I have painted and sketched there for many years now, as well as basing a ton of prints and larger paintings off the work I do actually in the forest or around the park. I'm so grateful to have this consistent source of inspiration so close to me. It's always meant so much, and this year it means even more.
As I've been working towards my WAMA show as well, I've realized that Overton Park is my Horn Island. Much easier to reach than Anderson's main landscape muse, which works for me as a city girl, but it functions the same for inspiration. I'm there daily when I'm not traveling, and I have painted and sketched there for many years now, as well as basing a ton of prints and larger paintings off the work I do actually in the forest or around the park. I'm so grateful to have this consistent source of inspiration so close to me. It's always meant so much, and this year it means even more.
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I cleaned off the porch at the beginning of the season, removed the second hammock chair that crowds it (no one ever really sits out there with me anyway), and have been spending lots of time out there lately. It's been a great joy. I did a line drawing of this scene some days ago in my smaller journal with the new Sailor fude pen, and I decided to have it in the Quarantine Journal as well. I was down to the right hand side square, and it probably would have benefited from being more horizontal, but it shows the critical elements of the scene, along with my new bird book, a long distance present that I am really enjoying. Spending this much time on the porch has me watching the birds more intently than ever before, and it's been deeply satisfying.
I'm showing off my deeply ugly house shoes in both of these sketches, but they're incredibly comfortable for standing up painting and print work, and I have to say that they are also fun to draw.
I'm showing off my deeply ugly house shoes in both of these sketches, but they're incredibly comfortable for standing up painting and print work, and I have to say that they are also fun to draw.
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It was a glorious morning in the forest. I had been stopping by the tree where I saw the owl to check for her every time I passed (reminding myself of my beloved, deeply optimistic first dog who checked under a car every day for six months after seeing a cat under it once). It turns out optimism is sometimes warranted. She was there again today, and once again stayed to watch and chat with me. I've been taking my sketchbook religiously on the off chance, so I got to draw her from life. The black and white one was done on site, and then I found the rare gift of a very late wood poppy. Mostly they stopped blooming a month ago, so it was delightful to sit and sketch it as well, spending time with the unexpected beauty. Over lunch I pulled them together and sketched the rabbit I also saw from memory, since he didn't stay around long enough for me to sketch from life.
I also picked the first of my blueberries from my new bushes today. I was more delighted before something came along after and knocked off almost all the rest of the green berries. I put up some netting and wished I'd gotten to it the day before. We'll see if it helps. But I had five lovely little berries at the end of my lunch after drawing them. I wasn't expecting any the first year, so I shouldn't mind the loss really.
I also picked the first of my blueberries from my new bushes today. I was more delighted before something came along after and knocked off almost all the rest of the green berries. I put up some netting and wished I'd gotten to it the day before. We'll see if it helps. But I had five lovely little berries at the end of my lunch after drawing them. I wasn't expecting any the first year, so I shouldn't mind the loss really.
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I don't know if this is really a Quarantine Journal or a new normal journal. We're a long way in from what we used to think of as normal, though, so even though the shelter at home order is lifted, it feels like I'm still largely in quarantine from the virus if not the government.
My new garden, which has been giving me herbs, is now also giving me gardenias, and I could not be more delighted. They smell divine. One good friend has brought them to me before from her bush, and I've wanted one ever since. Our little midtown nursery is open air shopping, so I got there first thing a month or so ago. I also have my first hydrangea blossoms. It's been a joy to reclaim a bit of my messy yard for beauty.
I had lunch on the back porch today and watched a dove building her nest. With every beak full of straw, she stopped to perch on the fence across from me before she took it on to the nest. I finally got my sketching things and managed to draw her over several trips. After the Cardinal tragedy (though I'm happy to say they're still whizzing around the yard and seem to be mating again!), it's happy to see another nest being built. This one is quite high, so I'll have to just watch from a distance, but it's a joy. I've never watched birds the way I have this year. I feel like I'm turning into my grandmother, and it's really given me a lot of quiet happiness in the midst of the chaos.
My new garden, which has been giving me herbs, is now also giving me gardenias, and I could not be more delighted. They smell divine. One good friend has brought them to me before from her bush, and I've wanted one ever since. Our little midtown nursery is open air shopping, so I got there first thing a month or so ago. I also have my first hydrangea blossoms. It's been a joy to reclaim a bit of my messy yard for beauty.
I had lunch on the back porch today and watched a dove building her nest. With every beak full of straw, she stopped to perch on the fence across from me before she took it on to the nest. I finally got my sketching things and managed to draw her over several trips. After the Cardinal tragedy (though I'm happy to say they're still whizzing around the yard and seem to be mating again!), it's happy to see another nest being built. This one is quite high, so I'll have to just watch from a distance, but it's a joy. I've never watched birds the way I have this year. I feel like I'm turning into my grandmother, and it's really given me a lot of quiet happiness in the midst of the chaos.
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I had a reptile kind of walk this morning. I got out early to beat both the heat and the holiday weekend crowds in the park, and I had the forest beautifully to myself. I had done a short walk with Mr. Darcy (who struggles with an arthritic hip these days) and then gone back out with my smaller sketchbook. I'm so glad I did. I found a turtle in the middle of the path, and he very obligingly hung around and let me sketch him. He didn't even pull into his shell.
Not five minutes later, I came across a pair of copperheads writhing together on the path. This time I took a photo but didn't stay in the vicinity long enough to sketch. I did the journal page looking at both my turtle sketch as well as reference photos for both.
These are the first snakes I've seen in ages, which is a little unusual for me. For several years now I've been a bit of a magnet for them, enough that the forester has joked about having the copperhead researcher (a professor at a local college) follow me around so she can find them more easily. I was beginning to feel like I might speak parseltongue without knowing it, though truthfully, a port key or apparition would be much my preferred form of Harry Potter magic. Today made up for the gap, however, since I saw two at once for the first time.
Not five minutes later, I came across a pair of copperheads writhing together on the path. This time I took a photo but didn't stay in the vicinity long enough to sketch. I did the journal page looking at both my turtle sketch as well as reference photos for both.
These are the first snakes I've seen in ages, which is a little unusual for me. For several years now I've been a bit of a magnet for them, enough that the forester has joked about having the copperhead researcher (a professor at a local college) follow me around so she can find them more easily. I was beginning to feel like I might speak parseltongue without knowing it, though truthfully, a port key or apparition would be much my preferred form of Harry Potter magic. Today made up for the gap, however, since I saw two at once for the first time.
