Dream Cat No. 3

I like how natural this little guy feels, both in the drawing and when I dreamed him, yet objectively, how absurd. I think dreams get inoculated with a little extra emotional zest, so you believe things which ordinarily would not be believeable. Like the time I woke up after dreaming what I thought was the most amazing short story idea I'd ever had. That was true in the dream, and I remembered it after waking, but it made no sense in the light of day. Well, back to sleep, perhaps!

Birdy and Sunglasses

Sitting in Jean-Mance park, watching people go by, and drawing things. I sketched the sparrow, but it went away before I could colour it. So, in the interests of accuracy, I coloured it whatever. I'm not John James Audubon, who will hit these things over the head to make them stand still.

Got crafty, and stuck sprigs of grass all over the drawing. It's going to dry up or fall out of the book, but the scan keeps it forever.

Sunglass girl too. Not a real particular girl, but my idea of one, during the day. Things that aren't buildings usually move around too much for you to draw them accurately, so a lot of getting them down is imagination, experience, and practice, for better or worse.

Recovering

Feeling better. Using some sort of steroid anti-biotic goop "cortisporin" in my ear, and the headaches are going away. Maybe now, I'll be able to enjoy this modicum of success, writing-wise, and summer in Montreal. Above is some cell-phone girl's pet chihuahua, sketched yesterday at a Second Cup. That's pronounced "chi-hooa-hooa", of course.



Tons of cute, young people at the clinic this time, instead of older, scary people. This girl was tattooed, slightly pregnant, and in a very short skirt I didn't draw. Hope she's not too messy-looking a drawing to show (I actually touched it up after seeing it here. The scan gives a little distance, and a chance to see what's wrong. Still not a perfect drawing, however). I just did her in pencil at the place, and coloured her later, when I was drawing the dog. Below is another little sketch of the clinic counter.



I think things are evening out, health-wise, and I may even be able to enjoy myself, and be in a better mood.

Witchy Woman

Oooh oooh oooh, witchy woman! She gonna put a spell on you. A mean girl once put magic mushrooms into my soup at a dinner, but strangely they had no effect. Maybe I'm always tripping!

Anyhow, this is in honour of her (living in Northern Ontario trying to sell movie screenplays), and that Nicole Kidman movie I'm not going to bother seeing. As a bonus for my very discerning 11 visitors a day, it's the extra-special walking by the wall cat.

Public Sketching 2

Here's an image I wouldn't be too quick to show the mom. Of course, perhaps I could make my reputation by setting up at the Old Port as the "brutally honest" portrait sketcher, but I'd probably get lynched, and end up being the centre-piece of a re-enactment of what used to actually go on at Place Royal or Champ de Mars. Of course the permit fees for setting up there as an artist are abusive, which is why only those types who colour-in mass-produced prints can afford to be there. Perhaps the caricaturists all work for some shadowy Fagin-like boss, the way all the Greek restaurants on rue Prince Arthur are rumoured to be owned by one company.

Hit counter, and public sketching

Gosh, I put in a counter, and now am taking time from intense work to check and see who's visiting my page. I swore I wouldn't be like this. I would be a lone wolf in blogland, people could link to me if they wanted to, and I wouldn't care if they don't comment (well, I wouldn't mind a load of comments telling me how groovy I am, like Sherwin gets.) But what can you do? It's all a lie. This is as addictive as junk food. Mind you, it's nice seeing a relatively large number of people taking a look. Maybe I'll get all self-conscious and try to post only finished, perfect drawings. But that's not the point. It's more the process that I'm interested in.

The reason I'm posting this morning, is because there was an interesting discussion recently (well, interesting to me), in Cassandra's pages about candid photographers stealing images in public.

Making sketches is a little different from taking pictures. I don't know what I'd feel like, if someone stuck a camera in my face, clicked and then ran away. Usually a little peeved, especially if its at night, and they use a flash which leaves an afterimage dangling in front my of eyes, like a TV channel I can't turn off.

Lately a lot of my friends have gotten digital cameras, so our get-togethers occasionally seem like press conferences. I suppose I could take revenge by Borg-like mounting a web camera on my shoulder, but that would probably be a social blunder.

People in public can take revenge on me the sketcher by hovering over me, and watching my every move. I'm not like that guy on PBS who creates pictures like magic ("This is where the happy little clouds live! Happy little clouds!"), and I'm sure even he makes a mess and has to fix things while they turn off the camera or re-shoot. It's such a lie about the confident genius artist whose every doodle is a masterpiece. Even Robert Crumb uses whiteout, and his famous "placemat drawings" are photocopied and touched up. I was also tremendously relieved to look in a book of Picasso's early sketches, and see that he flubbed drawing a hand.

But having people watch you while you sit and draw or paint in public is part of the process, and I never shoo them away, unless they smell, or spit. What I've always found funny (though not at the time) is that when I'm struggling with a watercolour, and the entire thing is turning into crap, someone will walk up and say, "Isn't that beautiful." You just have to smile and say thank you. Hitting them with the pad is not recommended.

You can take revenge on pushy photographers by walking in front of them when they're taking pictures of something else.

Looking for something I drew that's worthy to share to break up all this text, but maybe I'll scan something later. All those visitors coming in will have to come back and check (a good idea for drawing traffic).

War of the Worlds

War of the Worlds is attacking a Vogue model. This is what you get when you're inside because it's raining.

Urban Old Man, and Montreal Fringe

It's the Urban Old Man! Yay! Woohoo! Go, Urban Old Man! Below him is St. Denis girl on street, and guy who kind of looks like a policeman, but walked away. Real police don't have that crossed belt: all their stuff is now hanging on their waist. The line beside him was caused when wind blew the page into my brush while painting. This was done yesterday outside a Second Cup on rue St. Denis.




Above, today I was drawing people relaxing in the "beer area" of the Montreal Fringe Festival. I'm off beer for the moment, as I've written, which is especially hard this weekend, because it's Grand Prix Week in Montreal, and booths of attractive women are lining the more touristed parts of the streets handing out free samples. Still, I'm adamant, at least for now.

So, I was sitting having a "Guru" of all things. I've been drinking these and "Red Bulls," along with my lemonade and soda water. I wonder if their health and energy properties are anything more than hype? The two little girls who are nearly in the centre of the picture came over to see what I was painting. I let them have a turn at the brush. The older one, on the right in the picture, was seven or so. She filled in the patch just below her pony tail, and we collaborated on the profile above. The younger one wanted a turn, and did the red circles, and less concentrated strokes.

Their Dad seemed okay with their painting with me, so I guess I don't look like a psycho (I've had experience working with schoolkids doing murals, and giving workshops in comic strip drawing). I was interested to see what this pair would come up with. More a case of my learning from them, rather than them from me.

We also did another page, which the father bought from me for five dollars. That was a little embarassing, but I left the band that was playing in the square (a couple of members represented below) a tip in their hat. No, not the whole five dollars. I'm not crazy.

Not my best sketching, but I didn't care. I was just moving the brush to the rhythm of the music. The little girls were great, but the younger one cried when her dad had to go. It's always tough to disengage in these situations, but I'm sure she was happy again in five minutes or so.

Larry David

Health is still not one-hundred percent, so I'm taking it easy. Actually, I'm going to tee-total for a week or two. Two days now, it's already been a drag. Still, discovering the virtues of lemonade. Also bought a spiffy new TV (writing is going good, and I've got a big neat project that's starting in July), so have been watching DVDs.

One of these was "Curb Your Enthusiasm," the Home Box Office show starring "Seinfeld" creator Larry David. It's basically about Mr. David, a producer, inadvertently pissing people off. Makes me not want to live in Las Angeles very badly.



Anyhow, I draw with the T.V. on, and here are a couple of Larry David-inspired pictures. The first is a wash drawing (which I turned blue in photoshop) showing Larry David about to insult an acquaintance on the street. The second is a line drawing, with Larry David about to hit my cat with a mallet, while Julia Louis Dreyfus (or someone who sort of looks like her, I'm not good at resemblances) looks on in consternation. This is how I spend my time, when I'm not working.


The cat is saying "I'm sensing rancour," a line from the show.

Self-Pity

Oh man. Coming off a stomach flu, just when I had the dentist out of the way. I should retitle this the "Blog of Self-Pity" and then see my viewer numbers go through the roof. Actually, I don't have a counter on this, which is all right, because I don't want to know how many are actually looking at it. Nevertheless I'm still going to post.



These are a couple of portraits of people I shared the waiting room at the CLSC (Quebec Gov't med clinic) the other day. One is the moustache guy with ball cap and scary eyes, the other was the junkie girl, who was asleep -- not dead -- when I drew her. Otherwise, she was pretty hopped up, pacing around, cursing and being dramatic.

Felt much better yesterday, and hung out in a park, after buying a new book (rare for me, I usually buy used, or take them out from the library) The R. Crumb Handbook. Here's a picture of play equipment, and one of the middle-aged women who walked through the park: