While waiting to eat lunch with my friend Kathy and family; I started sketching. Near, was an industrial coffee grinder that looked cast out of the hardest metals. The shapes were formed, banged and screwed.
Of course I had to start a drawing. However, everyone came and I couldn’t finalize what I saw.
Late today, I started to look at it and decide if it was worth putting more ink on paper.
Glad I did.
Today, I began an illustration of Frankfort Avenue in Louisville. It is an old avenue with wonderful restaurants, coffee venues and people. The perfect place to sit, sketch and relax.
As the illustration progressed, I was pleased to share my sketch with people passing by and with my friend Kathy. It took me all day to believe I had succeeded in what I started, and to put it aside during dinner. I told myself that if I wished, I could bring out the paint to brighten and make it come “more alive”.
I was wrong. I hurried through the process, became aggravated and worked faster. Haste made waste and the sketch was ruined. I had just told Kathy the other day, that my ability to show patience had much improved. Sigh.
Thankfully, I took a photo of this image before I began painting. It was fun to sketch, yet the lesson in the art is not the art at all. It is the relationship and process within myself.
Despite the warm colors, the cafe was cold. Bracing for a Summer’s day, the owner had the AC turned down early in the morning. Good for me as I hate Summer.
Bad for the coffee.
This is my safe place for mind and art. In this place, nothing invades unless I allow.
You may not see it, but I do. I remember the threat of more rain, a wet seat and muted color.
Lines here, lines everywhere, but Saturdays are best.
One has to get a little worked up (http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Worked%20Up%20) once in a while. When nothing has been produced for weeks, the feelings, anxiety and regret build upon each other.
Thinking about it doesn’t count. Doing does.
I try to not allow things to get in the way. They are just another “term for excuse” and as an artist, cannot afford them.
They are too rich for me.
Tables and chairs belonging to my favorite café, are ready for the day. They are lined up and ready for neighbors, visitors and acrobats.
This is my Zojirushi coffee maker. It is slow and it makes my morning cup very much like a pour over. The big difference is that it warms the water.
There is something about the perfect cup of coffee any time of the day. It is the embodiment of good memories, a comfortable mind and all that is well.
I kept hearing Grace Slick in the furthest reaches of my background memories. It was a nice sensation and wished the cafe had a sentiment, a timeline for everyone.
What to do this winter, what to investigate; I accept a linear challenge. If sleep never arrives, I will have enjoyed too many cups and full-loaded Micron.
Snowball hands or will climate change give me a tan?