“Past a certain point, the music is no longer mine. It's yours.” - Phil Collins.
Can’t be the end of another sketchbook? Apparently so! Glad I stocked up in new ones…
Henry and Lucy caught these fish while fishing with Grandpa. The remarkable natural color—blue-green, gold, orange, violet, and pink—made the catch especially striking. A great subject for a watercolor study of color, texture, transparency, and reflected light.
These were drawn on different days, in different places.
A salt shaker and sugar rack at Beans & Barley on Milwaukee’s East Side—a place that is gone now. A chair at Starbucks, which is still there.
When I go places, I wait.
Waiting is filled with observation.
Observation is recorded with marks.
Marks spark memory.
I can look at a few pencil lines years later and remember where I was.
Maybe that’s what a sketchbook really keeps. Not drawings of things, but evidence of moments.
For Doodle Addicts, I would use this rather than making Beans & Barley the whole story. The loss of Beans & Barley gives one sketch poignancy, but your larger idea is better: drawing converts otherwise disposable waiting into memory.
A quick observational sketch from the chess meet—boards, pieces, and the strange architecture of waiting. The chessmen seemed to be rehearsing before the players arrived.
Two pens resting on the table, drawn quickly before they were put back to work. The lines wander and double back, but that is part of looking: an ordinary object becomes particular when we give it our full attention.
Ink sketch from observation.
Ruskin believed that ornament was never decoration for its own sake — it was evidence of attention, a record of the hand and eye slowing down enough to truly see. These kaleidoscope name designs are built the same way: a name broken into line, repeated outward with discipline, until pattern becomes a kind of patience made visible.mandala, kaleidoscope, radial symmetry, pattern art, geometric art, name art, marker art, hand drawn, meditative art
