Drawing Horses

I’ve been drawing horses when I can for six of seven years now. Not very often, just when there is a horse show or my daughter is riding. We found a good teacher for a few years but then she left and we have not found a good one to replace her. In any case, I have not drawn horses very much, and am only at the beginning of this study. So this is really a blog post about beginning this inquiry. Continue reading “Drawing Horses”

Drawing Baseball

 

I love kid’s baseball. I played it alot when I was a kid. I was not very good at playing on teams, partly because I never learned how. My first team was the Shetland Ponies, when I was 7.  When 10 or 11, I was set up on a team called the Cardinals, where all the kids were nearly two years older than I was and that makes a huge difference. I struck out all that summer. I never got one hit. It got so bad I started crying before I even got up to bat. But with the neighborhood kids, it was a fair game and I did pretty well. Indeed, i loved it, from playing pickle to having real games with all the boys in the neighborhood. Continue reading “Drawing Baseball”

Miniature of my Grandma at the Met

Grandama-Gormley-best
Edna Yenser Gormley (1897-199o)  painted by Julie Bruhns Kahle (Mrs. Marcel Kahle) (1858 – 1931

The Girl with White Fur

  1. 1920–24
    Watercolor on ivory in gold-toned metal frame with stamped and enamelled black foliate decoration
    Sight: 3 1/2 x 2 1/2 in. (8.9 x 6.4 cm)

Metropolitan Museum of Art

 

 

My Grandmother was painted by Julie Kahle probably in 1919. I was told about this painting by my aunt and mother, who learned of it from my Grandmother. My aunt had gone to the Met shortly before or after my grandmother died and got a black and white version of the work. I was given a copy of it. Continue reading “Miniature of my Grandma at the Met”

Some Self-portraits since 1971

Samuel Clemens, aka Mark Twain, writes in his autobiography that no autobiography is entirely honest. No one can write all the dark and hidden things in a human life. A few have tried, perhaps, from Kafka to Plath, but I am not trying to do that in any case. Twain did not have to deal with the fact that now big business is trying to make the personal the exploitable. They want to turn private moments into profit for them. They want you to pour out your heart texting and on Facebook and want you pay them big bucks to do it. Continue reading “Some Self-portraits since 1971”