I took a class to learn how to draw a portrait. The class ended with the instructor giving each of us a  mirror and told us to do a "self-portrait".  ​
I couldn't hide so I spent 90 minutes staring at myself; studying all the wrinkles, white hair, age marks.  Is that the beginning of a double chin?  Where I used to have a cheek, it seems to be slidding down the side of my face to make a jowl!  And, what's with  those nose hairs? 

The class looked at my sketch and said I looked too "stern".  In reality, I was surprised to see what age and gravity is doing to my body.  No escaping it.  I'm getting old!  Not happy to see that, and my self-portrait shows it. 

Get over it, I tell myself. If I don't want reality, I'll have to make caricatures. At least I feel confident now in learning some techniques of drawing a portrait. 'Part of this continuing process of becoming an artist.  

Check out this sketch, and some other portraits, added my website gallery.   Thanks Abby.

New post of an old drawing, for Memorial Day.

I guess I really don't know the difference.  Today I'm adding to my gallery a few whimsical sketches of the old Concord Road Covered Bridge - drawn with one line without raising the pen from the paper (well, I may have cheated just a little). 

The question is, are these abstract drawings, or impressionist? Or, perhaps another more pertinent question may be, does it really matter?

I did it just for fun, to see if I could, a few days after I joined some other artists in my first "plein air" experience nearly 9 years ago.  So, let me also add my sketch of Shane McDonald painting the real thing, so the viewer can compare.

As a kid I often tried to make myself scarce, when Mom went into the back yard to weed her flowerbed. I could handle a shovel and rake well, but pulling each individual weed out by hand was not only tedious and labor intensive, but required an unnatural stance, legs spread out and bent deep at the waist for long periods of time, with sweat rolling down the forehead and dropping off the nose into the soil. Besides, I had a hard time distinguishing between flower and weed ... or perhaps I really just didn't want to learn.
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Now, having transplanted her purple Iris from Ohio, and seeing them in full bloom in Georgia, I'm reminded of the patience and dedication she gave each Spring to cultivate and nurture these beautiful plants, and our family as well.    Thanks Mom! 

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Music is happening again on and around the Square.  First Friday Art Walk:  Saturday morning Farmers Market with "buskers"; Saturday night Symphony on the Square; Tuesday night Blue Grass; and more.

A lot of sweet sounds!  Enjoy them, and  gallery posts of some of these scenes.