Train coming 'round the bend.

lay me down

Drawn from life in about ten minutes at the Arts Project in London, Ontario.

it's like that

Green army jacket

I don't know how to say it

New novel.

Danilo

It's been a while since we've seen one of my small sketches on cardboard. They're old works, and date from when I was too poor to mess around much with canvas.

Here we see Dan, a painter with whom I shared a studio in Italy, much longer ago than I care to remember.

It was done with pencil. acrylics, and some watercolour.

Hard Sun Up

so lonely

Tulips

I fancied these were growing on the verge of a mediterranean patio, but where did the umbrella come from? It's quite ugly.

Young beauty waits to be undone

I'm not here for you

Drawn from life in about five minutes.

two at home

Young Beauty Prepares To Go Out

James

Tess of the d'Urbervilles

The story of Tess is one of my favourites. Most women distrust the expectations of men who have fallen in love with the protagonist of this book. Well they might. Most men respond to that distrust with the blunt retort of, "baby, I'm no Angel."

Please excuse the glare. It's the aura of light that follows Tess around. She can't help it.

It's where you take me

Eam ut cum patre suo laetanter biberet invitavit

Once upon a time Alboin, warrior king of the Lombards, made war against the neighbouring kingdom of the Gepids. He overthrew them, killed their king and seized the king's daughter to be his wife.

Some years later, Alboin led his people south across the Alps and set up a new realm in what we now call Northern Italy. One day, in his court at Pavia - about half-an hour south of Milan - he drank a bit too much at dinner. He summoned his wife. He drew out the cup he had made from the skull of the dead king and invited her to enjoy a drink with her father. Whether she did or not is unrecorded. What we do know is that she shortly after arranged to have him murdered.

The story allegedly took place around 570. The written version that still survives, and from which I took the Latin title, was written perhaps in the 770s.

Although the picture illustrates a historical event, it does not attempt to be accurate. Even if the story is true, we know so little of how people appeared in the 500s that attempting a reconstruction would be futile. And also tedious.

Instead, I've tried to imagine how the scene might appear in a modern stage production, in which accuracy is less important than visual impact and the impression of exotic antiquity.

This drawing appeared in the 2013 edition of the Hart House Review.

Hannah

At the end of a long night of posing, sometimes the model needs to relax with a drink. It might be a Bloody Caesar, or it might be kool-aid.

Ostracised Tête-Tête

leave the light on, baby

1920s era candle stick holder.

If I had a voice I'd sing

Simple Planning

Young Beauty Applies The Rules Of Science

Time for a manicure

Esther, the beauty pageant winner

Actually this is just a picture of a young beauty combing her hair. But as it happens the model's name is Esther, named after the winner of the first ever recorded beauty pageant (according to the Old Testament, although it is possible that Helen has priority).

The historical Esther had the good fortune to live a happy and carefree life with the pharaoh in his big house with many servants. As is often the case, her old family unit weighed heavy on her conscience and strained her relationship with her husband. From his point of view it was a classic case of "not-the-inlaws-again". As I said, this has nothing to do with my picture.

Making friends on the bus to Toronto...

...is what Tarragon called the picture, and what he did.

He drew it on an iPad using a stylus.

Saint Nicolas in Compton

The ancient parish church of St. Nicolas, in Compton, Surrey. I drew this on a fine day in May, my back to the old stone wall encircling the church yard.

The oldest parts of the church, the square base of the tower and parts of the walls, have been there for over a thousand years, and are sunk deep past the level of the turf. That pointed steeple is a mere six hundred years old in comparison.

It is really an interesting building, which is gratifying, since there's no guarantee one's local church will contain anything of interest. It has a cell built into the north wall, where an anchorite might have permanently immured him or herself in penitence for sins, or simply to escape this loathsome, fallen world. There's also a leper's niche, through which a leper, for whom mingling with the parish folk was taboo, might take communion from outside the church.

Worth mentioning, too, that it lies close by the Pilgrim's Way to Canterbury, and was regularly visited by people seeking the shrine.

lovely creature

Bamboo at Kew Gardens

This picture reminds me of an Ito Shinsui print of a sexy woman trying to eat a firefly. Her fan doubles as a big moon on the horizon and triples as a light reflector placed conveniently for the photographer who is tired of young idols who just want to eat insects.
Most photographers aspire to something more respectable, jobs for National Geographic and the like. This is why painters are sensitive about photographers.

Andrew

una capanna in Firenze

I once lived in the east end of Florence, almost at the verge of the city. It was a gritty district at the time, although you wouldn't know it by day. You could walk out of the city, and if you took the right route, find yourself in above the valley in Settignano, where Michelangelo imbibed marble dust with his mother's milk.

Or you could walk left out of the city, through the new suburbs and the power lines, and turn up in places where neither Michelangelo, the Medici, or any of the gilded apparatus of the capital of the Renaissance should ever trouble your head.

the nude model

Our model, David, striking a very model-like pose. Naked and muscular men are probably the most traditional things in visual art. Michaelangelo (and to be fair, Signorelli) thought it was a good idea, and here we are 500 years later, still sketching naked men.

It was drawn with a brush pen, various crayons, and some charcoal.

Young Beauty Waits To Be Unzipped

Dave

Hannah

Drawn from life with a Copic brush pen in around one minute.

Colour

The insects all ran off.

Take a break

Slumber On

If Tissot had the convenience of the Eurostar at the turn of the century he probably would be too preoccupied sketching women of uninvolved virtue stepping between sliding doors to notice this barn ensconced in snow, but it would be there. Is this something Tissot should regret? I doubt it. And if one hundred years ago the snow fell for even a day longer per year than it does now, he would be stuck in London anyway.

St Mary's Vacated By All But The Quiet

In London the Cherry trees are all in blossom. Every February it happens and by March everyone is surprised that it isn't warm out and hasn't it been a dreadful winter. But there is a reason that blossom viewing parties generally happen in the snow. Speaking of which, I like blossom viewing parties. Every time I get invited to one, I think how nice to see again all the people I saw at the snow viewing party yesterday.

In this particular picture these is no snow because it was 14 degrees above today. But never mind that, it will be cold again tomorrow.

courtney

Two similar beauties with differing thoughts

Maddy and little Kate are sisters. Maddy is the smaller of the two and she is a morning person. Kate is not, and I doubt that she was consulted when we agreed on a early morning modelling session.

Emily

Many successful drawings are more about what is left out than what is put in. This is a good thing: representation can never be perfect, so the absences are in some senses the most perfect part of the picture.

Which suggests the road towards the flat black square of Malevich, but in fact the thing about negative space is that it's generated by its reciprocal, the positive space of representation. A picture that is nothing but a white square, or a black one, is not a picture of negative space - it's a picture of white, or black. For what's left out to matter, something has to be put in.

Drawn from life at the Arts Project in London, Ontario, in ten minutes.

Your old men shall dream dreams; your young men shall see visions.

Is it you?

Flowers in Grey

I didn't think of the drunk woman even once whilst doing this. Drawn from life and for once the vase appears to be included.

Angela

I met Angela in Siena, Italy. She always had the best shoes. A pity they're not really visible in the picture.

Essex Rd, Islington, London.

This is why picture making is such a pleasure. There is nothing in this scene that can't be seen from the flat on Essex Road. The trees were drawn from life looking out the window, and yet it doesn't quite look like this. Perhaps this is not the picture that will remind you of John Atkinson Grimshaw but I like to think he smiled inwardly when he composed his pictures. It was the smile of truth that artists are known for.

8 lines at noon