Crystal Cities

Here are a few recent additions to my "Crystal Cities" series of paintings. I think these go under the broad heading: what I draw when I don't know what to to draw (which is about 99% of the time). More or less the entire series over at flickr.

12-27-16
watercolor, charcoal, chalk

12-28-16
watercolor, ink

12-26-16
chalk, ink

12-21-16
watercolor, ink, latex

01-03-17
crayon, watercolor

Let's get this party started!

The Gang's All Here

doodles

la Rêverie

My mind is wandering and I need to take a break as I'm working on a very boring commission. As I work, I'm listening to/watching with half closed eyes, a documentary about Míro, the Catalan Surrealist artist.  Fading in and out of consciousness, to touch what is important to me, I look at old drawings which have a whiff of Míro DNA and make this blog post. My apologies maestro!

dans l'atelier
01-12-11a

06-03-10a
mixed media

09-14-10a
ink, watercolor

09-18-10b
ink, colored pencil, watercolor

11-23-10a
ink, colored pencil

12-20-11a
colored pencil, ink, collage

01-24-12a
colored pencil, collage

06-01-12a
collage, ink

sketches of a tapestry

11-01-15doodle-08

Cigarette Break

Happy Thanksgiving

Having achieved perfection, the perfect host takes a break.

Buon appetito!

Cigarette Pause
11-24-14
mixed media

detail

detail

detail

detail

Poem & Story

Poem

Somewhere, up there,

There is blue sky.

The herons are content

To see their reflections

In the generous water

In which accumulates

The memories of trees

And resting frogs.

A Thoughtful Heron
11-18-16a
collage, mixed media

A heron had a conversation with a frog.

"You. You! You sleep all winter deep in the mud where no one can see you. All summer, I walk in the mud and hunt you."

The frog was silent for a while then it spoke to the heron.

"I like sleeping in the mud all winter. It makes my skin soft, you should try it sometime. I adapt and accept. This hibernation (or whatever you call it) is my Heaven. It is my dream state. The mud is everything. Without it you'd have no place to stand and hunt. Why, the river would have no bed. It would flow constantly, impoverished with no place to rest until it squandered itself in the ocean far away."

The heron was confused. Frogs! He spread his wings and swept off downriver in search of fish.

detail

detail

detail