And that’s a wrap from this current sketchbook! Closing things with some Peter Falk wisdom I’ve shared before, I think…
“My idea of Heaven is to wake up, have a good breakfast, and spend the rest of the day drawing.”
A vibrant fruit bowl filled with a variety of colorful mix of red fruits like strawberries, blueberries, and raspberries. The bright, bold colors create a striking contrast against the background.
Mark Twain (1835–1910)
In the 1870s and ’80s, the Twain family spent their summers at Quarry Farm in New York, about two hundred miles west of their Hartford, Connecticut, home. Twain found those summers the most productive time for his literary work, especially after 1874, when the farm owners built him a small private study on the property. That same summer, Twain began writing The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. His routine was simple: he would go to the study in the morning after a hearty breakfast and stay there until dinner at about 5:00. Since he skipped lunch, and since his family would not venture near the study—they would blow a horn if they needed him—he could usually work uninterruptedly for several hours. “On hot days,” he wrote to a friend, “I spread the study wide open, anchor my papers down with brickbats, and write in the midst of the hurricane, clothed in the same thin linen we make shirts of.”
Whether or not he was working, he smoked cigars constantly. One of his closest friends, the writer William Dean Howells, recalled that after a visit from Twain, “the whole house had to be aired, for he smoked all over it from breakfast to bedtime.”
- From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey
“Everyone is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody.”
― Mark Twain
#dailyrituals #inktober #MarkTwain @masoncurrey
Herman Melville (1819–1891)
"I rise at eight—thereabouts—& go to my barn—say good-morning to the horse, & give him his breakfast. (It goes to my heart to give him a cold one, but it can’t be helped.) Then, pay a visit to my cow—cut up a pumpkin or two for her, & stand by to see her eat it—for it’s a pleasant sight to see a cow move her jaws—she does it so mildly & with such a sanctity."
- From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey
“I would prefer not to.”
― Herman Melville, Bartleby the Scrivener
“A smile is the chosen vehicle of all ambiguities.”
― Herman Melville, Pierre; or, The Ambiguities
#dailyrituals #inktober #HermanMelville @masoncurrey
Joseph Cornell (1903–1972)
Cornell worked nights at the kitchen table, sorting and assembling materials for his boxes. It was not easy going. Some nights he felt too fatigued from his day job to concentrate on his art and would sit up reading instead, switching on the oven for warmth. In the mornings, his quarrelsome mother would scold him about the mess he’d left at the kitchen table; without a proper workroom, Cornell was forced to store his growing collection of magazine clippings and dime-store baubles out in the garage.
In 1940 Cornell finally mustered the courage to quit his job and pursue his art full-time—and even then his habits changed little. He still worked nights at the kitchen table, while his mother and brother slept upstairs. In the late morning he would head downtown for breakfast at his local Bickford’s restaurant, often satisfying his sweet tooth with a Danish or a slice of pie (and lovingly cataloging these indulgences in his diary).
- From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey
#dailyrituals #inktober #JosephCornell @masoncurrey
Ludwig van Beethoven (1770–1827)
Beethoven rose at dawn and wasted little time getting down to work. His breakfast was coffee, which he prepared himself with great care—he determined that there should be sixty beans per cup, and he often counted them out one by one for a precise dose.
From Daily Rituals : How Artists Work by Mason Currey.
#dailydrawing #dailyritual #beethoven #coffee #inktober @masoncurrey
There are practice excercises on Youtube for the sketchbook app. It was just for the flower, which
I didn't quite get it right and I changed the background and added the bee. I am actually proud of the bee. That's breakfast.
Filling my belly with the remnants of the night prior’s takeaway (almost always on Sunday mornings) before the day job starts is fast becoming a ritual of mine’s lately, hence the name of this one. The joys, eh?
Every once in awhile, this poem floats to the top of my head and I taste plums.
This Is Just To Say
William Carlos Williams - 1883-1963
I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold
https://www.instagram.com/p/Cd8eMduOKzm/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link
