Dream Cats

Sorry for being away. Real life intrudes. Also, the sketchbook gets a little less interesting when there aren't real things to draw. At least they set up the fountain in that park at the foot of the bridge. Very impressive in our dreary little neighbourhood of tattoo shops and taverns.


These are two cats I saw in a dream. It was one of those troubled dreams where the imagery is especially intense. The two-legged cat was very frisky, and ran everywhere. The other was a kitten with a metal flap over its face as on a mail box, or something military. You had to lift the flap to feed it, and petting was out of the question.

Anyhow, if things go right, and the Canadian Embassy gets back to me, I might be on the other side of the world in a couple of weeks. More later.

Colour Walkers

Sick lately, and still busy. These were done last week during the pleasant weather. The crossing guard was done today. This has turned into a sketch blog. I suppose that's all right for now.

Westmount Park, Northeast Corner

The building stood still, but everyone around it was moving and changing. You have to use the imagination a lot to keep them there for the picture. What does a school bus look like? It was just there for an instant. Ditto the businessman, and the skateboarder, and the cyclist.

I guess it's a sketch, if I want to do a painting. Sat on the lineup bench by the ball diamond yesterday, and pencilled and painted this. Would have had more detail if there was more time.

VW Camper

This is an orange 1970s Volkswagen Westphalia camper van, parked on our street. It's in beautiful condition inside. Sticker on the back says "Save Tibet."

While there was almost no one on the street today while I was out on my balcony drawing, a guy went by on a bike, and asked me if I knew the owner of it. "No I don't," I replied.

Another one of those lovely fall days. The trees have not yet let go of their leaves in front of here, though the maples are very bright red.

There seem to be lots of Volkswagen vans in this neighbourhood, or else, they seem to stand out. While they were discontinued because they are not safe (nothing in front except your knees to stop a collision. Also, very top-heavy), they were well-designed to go travelling in. When I lived with my family in Calgary, we had a wonderful summer trip down the west coast, all the way to Los Angeles, in our fire-engine yellow camper van.

Faces

Here are some faces from TV and the street, in my sketchbook. All guaranteed drawn today. Well, the girl was drawn yesterday. Back to school specials meant that there were a lot of deals on things such as sketchbooks, so I loaded up.

Maybe I'll be writing later. I promised reviews and things. But my work has been writing, coming up with ideas, and I've been busy at that. Don't feel like putting up sections of my journal. The books I've read have been disappointing, but don't feel like kicking the authors. Oh, all right.

"Symptomatic" by Danzy Sensa was about a journalist of mixed background, a prizewinner, starting out on her career in New York. But the people around her are terrible, and the book turns into a version of Stephen King's "Misery" because the woman who finds her an apartment turns out ot be a psycho. That's about it. Her earlier book, "Caucasian," was supposed to be a masterpiece of what it's like being a visible minority writer. That's out of print. This one seems to be a reaction to her fame, or at least recognition, and is totally joyless. She hates the work she does and the people around her. I hope she cheers up, or finds other work, or gets some glee into her misanthropy (see Martin Amis below). Nice feeling for New York in the book, however.

Next is "Sweet Grass Stories" by E.L. Doctorow, author of "Ragtime." This collection of short stories reads like second-rate Flannery O'Connor, but with the stakes raised as far as violence.

At the moment, I'm reading "Yellow Dog" by Martin Amis, which got totally panned in the press. But so far, I'm enjoying it, while not expecting much. He hates everyone as well, but it's so over the top, it's funny. I'm enjoying his take on the tabloid press, which is a little like what it is to write material such as that (I did photo captions for a tabloid, which meant absolutely making up stories about what was going on in the photo, but packing in as many stupid puns as possible.) The bile and hatred everyone in the book bears for everyone else is ludicrous enough to be funny. The sense of humour about it all is what makes it easier to take than "Symptomatic," which seemed to be in earnest.