Thursday, December 5, 2013


I'm trying to remain enthusiastic about drawing out-of-doors as Winter begins. Recent rains have filled up the river and there have been a small flock of ducks and one swan that congregate above the dam. This provides interest and a place for my imagination to find a home.

I always wonder, at dusk usually, when I see ducks settling down for the night in some cold and moist place: how do they last until morning? Who keeps watch? Is it all so very Existential and bleak? Do ducks in winter, or all animals for that matter, even have a word for bleakness? Do they anticipate the spring? What are their memories of warmth and sun and abundant food? Is there joy in Mudville as the days dwindle to the winter solstice?


  1. Some ducks on the Charles River near Natick, Massachusetts.
    "Hey guys, come over here, there comes a guy with a book."
    "Oh man, Duggy, you do not you know who that is?"
    "Have I told you! A guy with a book."
    "Duggy, this is Rob Dunlavay, the famous, wonderful artist. And this is no ordinary book. This is a drawing book. Rob comes almost every day, and then he draws us and the river, and the water, and the cold and the heat, and the wind, and the life. Make a happy face, Duggy, if we're lucky , we end up in a book drawn by Rob Dunlavay. "
    "And we get famous?"
    So Rob, dont worry about the ducks,

  2. You're inspired Klaus. Brilliant.
    I will not worry about the ducks. Instead, I will worry about the people!


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