Sleepy Swan

The view through one of the bridge's arches reveals a swan resting on a small ice shelf
Feb. 27, 2015

I returned this morning and the swan was over on the sunny side
March 7, 2015

detail

The Ibis

The dam
colored pencil
2/1/2015

The weather has not been cooperating lately. We are under the lash and it's troubling. I miss these expansive moments of the river's white noise and my contemplative focus. Also, various projects have stacked up; moments spent on one task is time stolen from another. There are moments where dealing with the necessities of life are the most clear and rewarding: shoveling snow, cooking and other domestic chores, doing laundry… Even writing is a form of procrastination.

Such is life and it will change. Projects will be completed. And through it all I still hear ducks overhead and see life at the bird feeder. The snow piles up in last year's nests and interesting animal tracks are seen in the snow. These creatures who share their lives without calculation, illuminate a path for me.

I worked in my studio this morning (like all my mornings) and considered my reason to draw outdoors: to attend and be gently surprised and reminded of the basics of Life beyond my small intelligence. And this picture emerged:

two ibises in Old Egypt (detail)

2/6/2015
mixed media

It's not such a good painting but the sentiment is true for me: the imbalance between what the Egyptian feels about the Ibis and what the Ibis feels about the Egyptian. It brings me some peace in this very troubled world.
Bonne journée mes amis.

Under Ice

The island
02-01-2014
charcoal, wash

The delicate fringes of ice around the island indicate the gradually falling water level. The ice is lacy, placenta-like, like a jellyfish sinking and rising in warmer waters. Beneath these thin icy skirts percolate dark watery blobs where the flowing waves touch the ice.

I think how good it would be to take a film and just focus on the mesmerizing blobs (like a Lava Lamp!) but I haven't the technology. And, the world is full of so many stimuli that could be more accurately presented as motion and light. But I'm a draftsman and I draw things and freeze the moments. A drawing is only one of an infinite number of perceived moments. The pictures are like the dark blobs forever flowing downstream.
I wonder how many millions of gallons of moments have flowed between the banks of my mind…

Mudville

"Icicles"
charcoal
11-30-13

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?
Well?

Waiting

The South Natick Dam in winter
crayon
30 Jan. 2013

ice and open water
crayon
6 Feb. 2013

ice bound driftwood
graphite & digital color
8 Feb. 2013

A "superstorm" is approaching and we have been anticipating it for a day or two. No surprises. Sure thing! A few minutes ago I was down at the river and even though it's premature, I did see a few microscopic snowflakes swirling here and there.

So this morning, Life has that weird suspended quality while we wait for the blizzard to land and settle in. Schools and businesses have been cancelled. The trains, buses and international airport will be shut down this afternoon. It's just another day at the office for the first-responders.

My teenaged daughters got to sleep late this morning and my wife has a series of conference calls instead of going to her office-hive. Since I work at home, there are few changes in my day except the interruptions of family and snow-management chores. If the weather gets bad enough and the power goes out, I'll blog by candlelight.

Was it yesterday that I was enthusing about how winter was on the run and the groundhog was looking for its shadow? This, mes chers amis, is winter. Stay warm and check on you friends from time to time.

Ice Land

Big dendritic ice crystals have started to form in the smooth water just above the dam.
01-03-13
charcoal

Below the dam, amid the turbulent water, a frilly pleated skirt of ice and icicles cling to the rocks and rock wall.
01-03-13
crayon

On Thin Ice

Juvenile swan, Lake Waban
5 January 2012
colored pencil

I really wondered about this immature swan I saw last week as I walked around Lake Waban at Wellesley College. The southern end of the lake had a thin layer of ice. Swans, coots, mallards and mergansers floated and dabbled in other ice-free corners of the lake. But this swan was stuck out on the ice for some reason and had to walk to open water. He broke through here and there. He slipped this way and that. When he became tired he would settle himself down and waggle his tail to settle his plumage. A few times he gazed at the ice as if to see something underneath. Why was the water hard and cold?

Eventually, he reached the thin edge of the ice and entered the water with a small splash. And everything was fine. No swans rushed over to see if he was alright. The coots continued their antic bobbing and diving. The mallards gossiped and minded their own business. And the mergansers, four females and a showy male, quickly disappeared as mergansers do.

Years ago when my youngest daughter was very little, she put a pea in her nose. Our various attempts to extract it only made it go in deeper and higher. Finally, somewhat embarrassed, we all trooped into the doctor's office and with a chuckle, he removed the pea with a special tool he'd made out of a small piece of wire. As he examined the pea and settled my daughter down from the traumatic experience he paused and said to one and all (and no one in particular) that people had been sticking things in their noses (and other places) since the dawn of time. The pea would eventually shrivel or rot and humanity would survive and maybe learn that peas are better put in one's mouth.

Maybe next winter, there won't be a swan wishing he had a pair of ice skates… I did see a fox once out on the ice once though…

Brilliant and Bitter

Brilliant sun and bitter cold

"Spring is just around the corner" says the grim-faced coffee shop owner as I wipe the fog off my glasses and await my order of hot coffee. Whatever you say!
Good morning people! The sublimating snow is leaving fanciful lace-like spires and icicles. Sticks and stones are revealed like bones from a grotesque injury. We are half past the Hunger Moon and larger animals are very hungry now that winter is in its eleventh hour. But mockingbirds and robins have started to sing.
How can we be so grim when the sun shines so marvelously (although some would say mercilessly)?

The Swan

This forest is down at the end of my street. After digging out after the blizzard this morning, I walked down to see the river.

I crossed over the brook and on to the main road and ended up at the park where the river goes over a small dam. I've sketched it many times in the summer and I've wanted to sketch it in winter too; just to keep the relationship alive.

Here's the Charles River in South Natick. It's flowing over the dam. The heavy snow has turned into a layer of icy slush. The blue circle is…

…a solitary swan that appears to be mired in the slush.

I drew the swan and the river. It took about 25 minutes. It moved around a little and would make a few honking sounds.

I did this drawing too. I finished it in the coffee house across the road where I warmed up. When it was time to go, the swan was still in the river looking stuck as ever. I called the Animal Control office and had to leave a message. I returned to the scene before dusk expecting the worst.

But there was no sign of the swan. It must have gotten out on its own. Maybe it just waited for the slush to get a little more solid so it could walk on it and fly away. I can imagine all kinds of scenarios; can't you?!