Archives for the month of: January, 2012

Well, things just went, um, inexplicably out of control for a few days. Oh.  Probably “out of control” is too strong.  Maybe a tad haywire? Yeah, haywire is better.  

Bi-Coastal Haywire.

The whole, entire, unexpurgated saga is here.


(iPat & Penultimate app)
(psst.  It is the coolest, most fun thing in the world to send drawings as e-mails.)

The following journal pages are from a visit to the Museum of the City of New York with the Central Park Sketching Meetup Group.  About 49 of us were there sketching from photographs and drawings in the “Kevin Roche: Architecture as Environment” and “Cecil Beaton:  The New York Years” exhibitions.  I had trouble settling down to sketch but Shirley immediately sprawled on the floor and went right to it.  







One non-sketching-group museum visitor was very annoyed with me while I copied the photograph of Greta Garbo and purposely knocked into my elbow.  That just about guaranteed I wasn’t going to move. I guess she didn’t realize that I’m the kind of artist who embraces scribbles resulting from knocked body parts and then will pretend I’m being spontaneous.



Lastly we visited a gallery of furnished rooms behind installed glass: “New York Interiors:  Furnishings for the Empire City”.  It was too dark in there for me so I sketched one of the sketchers sitting below a wonderful stained glass window.



Yesterday I met my friends in the city.  We had breakfast at Le Pain Quotidien and then walked to the Met.  The original purpose of this outing was because Gwen is in town, but since she was in the early/worst stages of a bad cold the five of us had to persevere without her and I drowned my disappointment in a mucho large Yogurt Parfait.  These excursions take a long time – excess chatting at the table, more chatting at the museum coat check area, some more at the members’ ticket desk, then we had to decide what to see (iPat came in handy for that – call up the web site of the place you are actually standing in), and then finally we had a plan of action.  

Shirley did some sketching in the Caricature gallery.  We revisited the Stieglitz exhibition which was closing and I did some sketches in my journal.  In November I did a couple of sketches there on iPat.


What started as a calm, routine day changed rapidly.

Event #1
You have to understand that the Met is humungous.  I can never find the way out.  I can never find the bathroom.  Every gallery we wanted to visit was at the other end of the building and on another floor.  We walked around the big Christmas tree about 18 times (no exaggeration).  To get from here to there we had to pass the same things over and over again, back and forth, up and down – different items catching our eyes.   All we do is tail after Shirley who knows the place like the back of her hand.  We are like a string of ducklings trailing after their mother.  At one point it was decided that we had had enough, all of us were exhausted and over-stimulated, so the plan was to get coffee.  Off goes Shirley, chatting with Teri (Melly left the museum earlier), Benedicte and I taking up the rear.  One second I take my eye off of Shirley and she has disappeared!!!!.  All I did was glance to the side.  Now, we know where we are but still we are nevertheless lost. We stand still, thinking they will notice and come back for us.  We stand some more. And more standing.   I go and reconnoiter and walk around that tree again.  Benedicte and I try calling and texting them.  AT&T and Verizon.  To no avail.  Ah Ha!  I remembered a mention of the American Wing.  Somehow we spot the signs leading there and find the cafe with the two blithely standing on line not even missing us.  Sigh.  

Event #2

The Stieglitz exhibition was very popular with our group.  It turned into a Life-Altering Moment for one of us.



She wishes to remain anonymous until the film is screened at Cannes later this year.  Stay tuned.

Actually out in Nature!



Not one arm was pulled and I was still upright after 3.5 miles and all that fresh air.




Just look at all the trees and dirt and stuff.


(pictures taken by Walter – don’t know his last name)