November 24, 1999: I have been thinking about the divided mind, the manner in which we deal with imponderables, the big questions. To think about infinity, for example, causes us to literally dig into our own skulls. We separate logic from art, prying the two sides apart. But one of those sides must be a visage, for we cannot truly be of two minds. Not if we wish to keep our sanity. One visage peels off, a discarded skin. For a moment, the glowing gulf between the two faces contains a truth.
April 12, 1999: What do the fossils really mean? Ancient. Immutable. Carved in stone. Petrified viscera.
February 12, 1999: Working in my sketchbooks last night, I tried some permutations of the spiral/fossil/shell motif, with human parts emerging.
January 10, 1999: Thinking that the pen outlining might not have been what I was looking for in my illustrations, I reverted to pencil, gouache and big uncomplicated shapes, making a simple sketch of the main character at her hideaway deep in the basement, complete with the green door.
January 8, 1999: Sketching this evening, I blackened my fingers very nicely with the pen. The sketch itself is not beautiful, and certainly not the bright colors I had in mind. I will have to try a different approach tomorrow.
August 4, 1998: Tonight I drew more curled-up thinking people in my sketchbooks. Still using charcoal, and some watercolour. A Pthalo blue figure hugging an orange rock.
August 3, 1998: Deb and I went sketching, and it was sunny and pleasant and nice to be together, but I felt at odds somehow, with myself. I could scarcely focus on my sketchbook, merely dabbling at great blobs of rocks and trees with watercolour and charcoal. We spent a couple of hours at Smooth Rock Falls, where I had planned to sketch some rock characters, and look for some tree characters.
July 7, 1998: After a holiday it is always difficult to settle down to work again. Today I made some sketches with charcoal and big, soft pencils, trying to fix some ideas down on paper for the artists’ colony next week. I was inspired, in Vancouver at the art gallery, to see the work of Emily Carr again, especially some of her large sketches. I did some scenes today, clunky dark things, though they would be interesting done in a larger format, I think.
May 8, 1998: At Kap Art, the annual art show at the Centre in town, I made some little sketches as I supervised our group’s exhibit.
April 18, 1998: Today a more than beautiful one, sun and warmth, golden grass dry and hot, blue green ice glinting in the lake, and small patches of snow pristine white in hollows. The balance between two seasons.
April 17, 1998: This morning I cleaned a couple of my drawing pens, made a sketch like an icon, of a little woman curled in on herself, almost a circle. It has been some time since I have done pen work. The little sketch is propped up in front of me, and I have been thinking about what color I would make the little character, if I were to paint her. In this curled pose, she resembles nothing more than a chair.
April 15, 1998: Sitting at the desk in my studio this morning, I picked up a pastel pencil and made a small Visage sketch, a woman with her hand over her mouth, her eyes closed. Thinking. I made a second small sketch with a pen, thinking about nothing in particular except the gesture.
February 21, 1998: This is where it starts. A woman, child-like in her awe of the unknown turns ahead of her, walks alone in the dingy corridors of an old girls school. She is pulled by the winding hallways and stairs, by the gaps and passages between the walls. Part of her desire to wander these halls is her need to be alone. She has some secret places, stocked with writing materials and provisions, candles and books. Sometimes she comes in the middle of the night.
January 9, 1998: A peculiar sketch today, done on the computer , using a recording session, which records every stroke of the brush, as well as the flip-book function, which makes an animation of the sketch.
September 17, 1997: Working on a quick sketch with the stylus, I was also thinking about possible figure arrangements for the large primed cloth, which demands life-size figures. Children might be interesting, perhaps pulling things out of pots, discovery and hope. Trees, too.
July 4, 1997: Last night I did this sketch, surprising myself with great buggy eyes and disturbingly wrinkled digits. Fish people, lately.
June 17, 1997: This evening, I made a pastel study in my sketchbook of Abby wearing her big flannel pyjamas and studying. I just used my indigo pencil and my finger for blending, a pleasant way to doodle.
June 16, 1997: There always seems to be so much paperwork, filing, correspondence and reading and such, that the day speeds by. Nevertheless, I took the time to do a monochrome computer sketch , a figure crouching beside a bird.
June 11, 1997: Yesterday, Debbie and I again walked over to the park to sketch, instead of working at the mall atelier. We stopped at the Circle Cafe for some lunch and our usual talk. At the park, we found a different perch on the rocks, some distance apart, and ended up sketching each other. My picture of Deb was done very loosely, with dry pastels and my fingers. Hers of me was done in watercolour, a perfect image of me hunched over my work, with my hat over my eyes.
June 5, 1997: A very warm day. I was up early this morning, drawing with the stylus and sketch pad, and came up with this rather tired-looking face (S225).
May 29, 1997: For Jason’s birthday, I made a sketch on one of the digital pictures we made with his QuickCam at Christmas. I sat him in an orange chair, because he is quite taken with the series.
May 15, 1997: I am trying to decide whether to include the latest computer sketches in my catalogue…I should, really, and I must do it immediately if I am to keep track of them. I don’t know why I consider these any different from other art work; their reproducibility, I suppose, and the fact that they really are simply sketches, done quickly, usually when I am writing in my journal.
May 13, 1997: Another face, with heavier chiaroscuro, and of course the raven has reappeared, as he generally does in each sequence. Working in monochrome always focuses the drawing, forcing me to concentrate on forms and composition, rather than the clout of color. Something about these faces in their little squares reminds me of Mexican glyphs, ‘characters’ waiting to be read.
May 8, 1997: I began thinking about further possibilities using some of desean’s digital images. Importing an image of himself that he sent me some time ago by e-mail, I divided his face in my usual style of part profile and part frontal view, gave him wings and a crystal ball, and a flowing robe. Although I began the sketch quite whimsically, experimenting more than anything, I quickly became intrigued with the transformation.
May 7, 1997: I have been experimenting with monochrome sketching using the stylus, trying different tools. After I finished 070597.bmp, I thought it had an air about it of William Blake, loose and full of fine lines and washes. Or it may be the creature with wings, defiantly human, that recalls Blake.
April 4, 1997: One of the greatest improvements in early paint programs was the airbrush. Here, using Fractal Design's Dabbler, soft, natural textures are acheived, and the blending is near perfect.
April 3, 1997: I was admiring a flock of grosbeaks on the bird feeder when I drew this bird shape, but it almost immediately became a phoenix/raven of sorts, part scavenger, part fantasy.
February 16, 1997: Artists posing at workshop. I know what you're thinking. But the chairs were not orange, and there were no umbrellas or teacups.