The Nor'easter

A long storm (a Nor'easter to be exact) has drenched the area in the last 24-36 hours. Natick has had 4-5 inches of rain.

The river has filled up again and it thunders over the South Natick Dam. Geese and ducks fly overhead and see no safe places to rest. I did see a kingfisher and a young heron. These fish-eaters seem to be just doing reconnoissance; they go away, their stomachs empty.

The Charles River Dam
charcoal, ink
10-24-14

A Great Blue Heron
ink
10-24-14

Drawing in The Rain

Pleasant Street Bridge, rain
ink, crayon
10-2-24

Great Blue Heron
ink, crayon
10-2-24

Swan
ink
10-2-24

It's raining. We need it. I hope the pep band's instruments stay dry tonight!

Go Redhawks!

Wet Duck

Mallard and drizzle
04-30-14
conté pencil

Happy May Day!

What could be happier than a duck in the rain?

Hello Spring!

Rainy Day

It's raining today but I found a few minutes to do a drawing of the dam after I drove my daughter to high school. I hadn't been to the river in a few days and I was feeling disconnected. As soon as I stepped out of the car, the drizzle started anew but I opened my sketchbook anyway. If you look closely, you can see faint spots and speckles in my drawing from the raindrops on the paper.

Later now, I'm stuck in the studio working on an illustration job. The door is closed to keep the playful cats out. It's cold and raw outside. The radio is on to local news. They're all talking about Kennedy. I have childhood memories of that day: it was cold and clear in the Chicago suburbs and there was this new thing between me and my perception of the world: the president has been shot. In the following days on a small television set the indelible images of the main aisle of a cathedral and horses drawing a hearse through the streets. The memories are dusty, desaturated and potent. It makes me think of memory as a growing land we pass by every day. Somedays a gate is open and we can go inside. But I'm too hungry in the present to make a meal of my memories yet. Soon…

South Natick Dam
Nov. 22, 2013
charcoal, watercolor

detail

detail

The Week That Was

Marathon Monday: I focus on a pool surrounded by bright green leaves

Tuesday: aftermath of the explosions, hard reflections come through the bridge's archways.

Wednesday: the city is reeling, victims are dying and the toll of injured rises

Thursday: later in the day, surveillance videos and photos are released

Friday: one bomber is dead, the other escapes. The cormorants have returned to Lake Waban.

Friday: the young men will never see this beauty

Saturday: the remaining bomber is caught after a day-long siege of Boston. The city rejoices, the news crews sleep and a gentle rain settles in.

Saturday: Some discord lingers relieved only by the circular rhythms of the rain.

Fool in the Rain

Jan. 15, 2013
crayon, charcoal, watercolor

It was lightly snowing when I walked to the dam yesterday to draw the landscape. However, as soon as I set my coffee cup down and opened my sketchbook, the snow seemed to pile up on the open paper. Quickly, water was pooling on the page and snowflake-floes were glacially moving as I tried to draw the snow-covered log on the top of the dam (above).

It was difficult making the waxy crayon stick to the wet paper so I switched to charcoal. As I scrubbed, dirty piles of charcoal-plowed snow accumulated around the places I was drawing. I gingerly flicked them to the ground and tried not to smudge my beautiful artwork. Finally, the charcoal started running and the brilliant white patches for the snowy log turned gray as the snow and rain took over my artistic project. How silly of me to be drawing out in the snow sleet and rain. Even the mailman thinks twice about that nowadays!

Before leaving, I made one more quick drawing and resolved to add some watercolor washes and try to clean them up once I got back to the studio. Here's the second drawing (right).

The drawing below was done a few days ago when it wasn't snowing. All was still and the far trees were reflected in the cold sluggish river. It's all very beautiful regardless of the weather.

Jan. 13, 2013
crayon, charcoal

Rainy Day

sketchbook doodle

It's raining in Boston today. I understand that these are the tattered remains of Hurricane Isaac which battered New Orleans a week ago. There are periods of warm, humid stickiness and then blinding drenching downpours.  This morning after getting my kids off to high school, reading the newspaper and washing the dishes, I walked down to the river during a lull in the rain.

A cormorant (a rare visitor at the dam) perched on a log on top of the dam. A single mallard scuttled back and forth along the edge dabbling for breakfast. A social flock of mallards could be seen downriver just past the island. They were just doing normal duck things: eating, dabbling, bathing and bickering.

However, as soon as I pulled out my charcoal pencil, the heavens opened up and soon rivulets were running down my pages. I was drawing in the rain. Have you ever done that? It's kind of fun and it forces a certain economy of means and method. I was completely soaked. When I got home, I took a hair dryer to the poor little sketch book. Here are my few drawings, still a little damp.

sketchbook spread: The Pleasant Street bridge
charcoal

sketchbook spread: duck silhouettes
charcoal

Rain is pouring down and my charcoal pencil breaks so I pulled out a litho crayon. The top duck here is charcoal and litho crayon

I like this one.

Singing in the Rain

Three Geese
conté
06-05-12

Swift
conté
06-05-12

A light drizzle was falling as I drew these birds this morning. I like how the drops of water on the paper change the color of the chalk. Keeping things loose.

detail: raindrops and conté crayon

detail: two geese close-up

detail: many swifts and swallows dart and swoop over the water feeding on the plentiful insects.

The Blue Coyote

I walked out into a steady mist two days ago and stopped at the field at the top of my street. The green grass was more vibrant because of the rain: it was yellow-green and there were scratchy areas of autumnal-sepia herbs and dried seed heads scattered on the tops of the swells. It was about 7:30 a.m.

I spotted a young coyote a few hundred yards away. It blended into the vegetation but once identified, it was plain to see and observe. Of course, it immediately sensed me and kept its distance. It then loped this way and that trying to determine if I was a credible threat. I had taken my sketchbook out and was jotting down the basic geometry. The charcoal and the blue pencil running in the mist and drizzle.

He trotted farther and farther away, sniffing, reconnoitering all the while. Never fleeing, the coyote made his escape firmly in control of his own reality. I stayed on longer trying to capture the moment and then turned to follow the path into the forest.

"The Blue Coyote"
10-14-11
charcoal, colored pencil, crayon, coffee

Could this be the coyote that absconded with my one year old cat this past summer? That's another story!

I tried to sketch the trees in the forest. Well, I didn't try. I actually did draw what I saw in the forest. Everything was so beautiful. The water droplets on my paper resisted the waxy black crayon and made it seem like I was drawing a snowstorm. Later, I added notes of different things I was thinking about. And what was that? Kitty Crother's wonderful illustrations for "Le petit-home et Dieu" that was published in 2010 by Pastel, a French publisher. Besides being a master story teller, she draws great forests too. So I was thinking about that.

the solo swan, a teen ager perhaps?

I've had the pleasure of observing a family of swans this summer on Lake Waban (accessible by this forest path and part of the Wellesley College campus). There are two adults and four dirty gray offspring. They mostly mind their own business and stay close together along the North edge of the lake. But on the way back home, I spotted this lone soul, an immature swan, looping around at the other end of the lake busily scrounging for the things that swans like to eat. Why was it all alone while the others were together?

Maybe there's a story in that?