Happy Sunday. Here is a trash collage, made with discards in my wastebasket. (An exercise from The Steal Like An Artist Journal.)
Good morning, diary
Here are entries from my diary this week, each one started with a brush pen drawing.
Some of them are drawn from life, some from my camera roll.
This one started by copying a drawing of Charlie Brown and letting my hand go.
I really love drawing chickens. (The cigarette is a nod to Lynda.)
Here’s a trash collage that I drew over. (The text is from an essay on Quaker pronouns.)
This one started with a swiped drawing from my 4-year-old.
More “Good morning, diary” on Twitter…
The brush pen
To warm up for the past couple mornings I’ve pulled out my trusty ol’ Pentel Pocket Brush Pen and filled a page in my diary before writing. (Hard not to be influenced when reading Lynda Barry!) The pen is probably half a decade old, and still works like new. Something magical about drawing with this thing…
Ain’t it good to be alive?
There used to be a spot on KVET radio, though I haven’t heard it in a long time, when the DJ would come on and say, “Ain’t it good to be alive in Austin, Texas!”
Día de los Muertos has come and gone on the calendar, but it’s still going at the Arte Sin Fronteras show at the Blanton Museum. I popped in last night an hour before closing with my notebook and stole what I liked. Always good to check in on death. The spirits speak of possibility.
When I got home, I saw the news that Tom Spurgeon died. I didn’t know him personally, but I loved his website, and he was generous to me and my work, linking to this site and even wishing me happy birthday. RIP. He lives on in the lives of the cartoonists (and wannabe cartoonists like me) he encouraged.
It’s cold and rainy and a little bit bleak in Texas today, but the fireplace is going, and even if it wasn’t, as Thoreau asked his diary on November 13, 1851, “Is not this a glorious time of year for your deep inward fires?”
I’m off now to walk with my wife and then get coffee with an old friend. It’s good to be alive. Now is the envy of the dead. Go live in it.
Now to work
Here are collages I made while listening to Lynda Barry and Chris Ware talk to Michael Silverblatt on KCRW’s Bookworm podcast. (The handwriting is a discarded shopping list I found on a walk and my son’s handwriting from years ago — I don’t remember why he wrote those words, “NOW TO WORK” — I used to keep them above my desk.)
The podcast conversation goes to interesting places regarding school: Barry has written of elementary school as a “sanctuary” from her homelife as a child, at The Evergreen State College she studied under Marilyn Frasca, who she says changed her life by introducing her to The Image World, and she now runs the Image Lab and teaches at the University of Wisconsin Madison. The Image Lab was started because she couldn’t figure out why grad students were so miserable and why it was acceptable to the academy for them to be so.
(Ware speaks of his own daughter being admonished by her third grade teacher not to bring her sketchbook to class, and his misery during undergrad and graduate school.)
“I had no idea that I could be as unhappy as I was in graduate school,” Silverblatt says. He then tells a story about taking grad school examination tests. “The thing was, I was so cramped, bent over, so stiff at the end of that test, that I wrote them a letter and I said, ‘I’m really frightened. This was a test on everything I’m supposed to know, and this is a subject — writing, imaginative literature — that I care about more than anything, and for the first time ever your test gave me the feeling that it was boring.”
“That’s kind of school in general,” Ware says.
“I’m trying to keep my heart alive,” Silverblatt continues. “I’m trying to keep my joy alive. And if I stand up and roar, I’m trying to keep my soul alive… That’s what we have all done, when we get to do what we want to do with our lives: We keep our joy, we keep our hearts, we keep our soul.”
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