To The Sun!

The Island Before The Bridge
March 27, 2013
graphite

The cars on the bridge are being driven to work and to school and to shops. But where is the island going without a drawbridge near? To the sun! To the sun!
The early morning sun shines on them all.

The end of Philosophy

Philosophy 101: It's obvious that…

from this, you get this…

---

The Heron

The old Pleasant St. bridge over the Charles River in South Natick, Massachusetts.

My kids catch the school bus pretty early. My youngest is ready and waiting by 7:00 a.m. and I have the privilege to walk her down to her bus stop. After saying our "good bye's" yesterday morning, I kept going to a local café. I had my sketchbook and pencils, two books ("Nana" by Zola and "Breakfast With Socrates" by Robert Rowland Smith) and some correspondence I needed to work on. The weather was overcast and a barely perceptible mist (or was it drizzle?) was in the air. But on the way I detoured to a small park overlooking a small dam on the nearby Charles River.
Here's a picture of it on a sunny morning. It's lovely and the noise of the steady stream of suburban commuters is drowned out by the rush of the Charles River over the dam. It's a popular place for people to lunch or have their coffee. Fathers and children fish there. Wedding photos get taken and pensive romantics hang out alongside professionals getting a quick, sunny break from their office routines. But not yesterday.

The only one working was a Great Blue Heron fishing for his breakfast below the dam. I drew his portrait. He would stand there on his spindly legs and do slow avian tai chi as he looked for something slippery and silvery to stab and gulp down. Every now and then, he'd balance on one leg and start to stretch and rotate the other (no doubt, those years of ballet training had given each of his muscles a mind of their own). I think it was just a technique for finding reliable footing, Braille-like in his slow progress across the face of the dam and the eddies where the fish were hiding.

I used a conté pencil for this drawing. I liked how the droplets of mist made the chalk more intense and how I could smudge it with that little bit of water. When I was done, I washed my fingers off in a puddle and went to get my coffee.

---

Early Riser

I'm an early riser I like working quietly in my studio while the house is asleep and the birds are still in bed. I love the gradual blue glow I see as the sky begins to anticipate the sunrise. I own that dark hour before dawn and I get grouchy when I don't get it on a regular basis.

I really like that transition time from the undisturbed and limitless dark of night to the birdsong-filled beginning of a new day. But it's getting harder to get this special time to myself. This happens every year as summer approaches and the days get longer but I'm always surprised and a little anxious. I've grown accustomed to the long dark winter nights but now I have to get up at 4:00 a.m. just to experience a little of that magical window of time. As it is, I usually crawl out of bed at 4:30 and that gives me a little more than an hour before I have to take care of the kids and get them off to school.

The rest of the day is filled with sketching, scanning, blog writing, work and family-related chores and, later, more family business as people come home. The best hour of the day is that first one.

I've met a few kindred spirits along the way but luckily, no one else in my house shares this addiction. Thank goodness! I'd feel invaded if anyone else had a claim on my early solitude. Somehow, that's part of the mystique. I'm the captain of my ship and the crew is all below. It's my watch and I contemplate the profound depth of the night and the shallows of my mind. My map of this country is my sketchbook and the small tools I use to walk it's pages. To night then! And dawn! And to going before the mast even if mine is just a little boat with room for one (two would be a squeeze but maybe…?).