Cool Summer Colors. Vibrant Fabric Colors

A little road trip off the beaten path. 

Not the coastal route with tourists & cars 
& clusters of restaurants and hotels.

This was roller coaster ribbon roads, 
forests, farms, scattered country homes.

Occasional views of distant fields 
& faraway mountains.

Destination:
 A fabric store in the city, about 50 miles away.

I've been luxuriating in assembling 

vibrant colors of cloth.

And yesterday I basked in 
cool country colors 
on a wet summer day. 

The Mouton Studies

Mouton came to me during a time of intense bad-luck stress. 

The bad-luck stress left, but Mouton decided to stay. 

He is a "Sigikid" and comes from Germany.

Recently I did a quick sketch of him in my daily journal.

He liked it. "Do more, Rita, do more!" 

"Andrew Wyeth did many studies of his favorite models, Rita. 

So please, study ME!"

He often sits next to my pen cup. He knows how to get

my attention. (He's onto my fountain pen obsession.)

 He did not realize how how much work went into me trying to illustrate, 

verses my private sketching! 

After all these years of loving & sharing picture books with children,

I know even more what tremendous work goes into 

creating animated, consistent images!

Picture book authors & illustrators are Mouton's & my heroes!

(Mouton's favorite picture book at the moment is 

I Lost My Bear by Jules Feiffer.)

He may still prefer it when I sketch him loosely in my sketchbooks, 

but he's glad I challenged myself to try something new.

Mouton's been speaking to me in French lately.

(We like listening to a French radio show while we work.)

Even though his name has French origins, 

he pronounces it MOO' tawn. Accent on the MOO.

(Il aime faire le clown-pronounced "clune.")

 

Now, take a break from modeling, dear Mouton.

Repose-toi bien.

Elephant Wandering

I was immediately attracted to a golden elephant statue, 

in the midst of many lovely tea cups, pots, & decorative objects at our local Tea Room 

when I went sketching with the Group. 

The above sketch no longer exists because I was overly critical of it. 

I went home, painted it over with gold acrylic paint, & then ~ tore it up. 

Note to self: Don't be so quick to reject the results of my sketching.

(A friend had taken the photo before I destroyed the picture.)

2nd version, sketch from the sketch,

it doesn't have the spontaneity of the first. IMHO. 

In one of the many books these days about sketching, 

I am reminded that I do this for the love of the process, 

more than for the result. 

However, the results are part of the process.

More Elephant explorations in my 7 1/2 by 11" book 

(that does not have watercolor pages.) 

Ganesh, the Hindu Remover of Obstacles. I need this.  

The Smithsonian Elephant, my friend from chilhood. 

Elephants at the Washington Zoo, we also go way back.

I don't think I'll ever go to Africa or Asia,

but I would like to visit some elephants.

Did you know there are some amazing online videos?

Have you seen real elephants? Do you believe in Ganesh?

PS. Have you read the beautiful & sensitive story,

 The One and Only Ivan?

It is for young readers, but it is for everyone.

Coming Back • Looking Back • Moving Forward

   '  

That is moi, at a recent workshop I gave on The Art of the Sketchbook Journal, in conjunction with a show of my work at my library. Looking back, moving forward, while in the present moment. Pas mal!

I had 2 display cases of some of my sketchbook journals.

Detail from display case

I shared 16 of my original Sketchbook Wandering pages. The show, was held in my small town Maine library & so I enjoyed many direct responses, encounters, & invitations from sharing right in my own community.  

Detail from the wall display

 It was different to see the pages on paper & all at once rather than online. 

They reminded me of pages in a paper book... 

One of the most gratifying aspects was that I got to share what I know about this joyful means of expression in two workshops, & to see others doing it. Soon the Belfast Free Library will be presenting a monthly sketch group, hosted by yours truly! More news to come! 

After some months of envisioning a new blog, with a million different title possibilities & organizing principles that I have recorded in my paper journal, I realized that I didn't need to abandon my dear friend, Sketchbook Wandering, at all! I had only needed some time & distance to tend to some other adventures. So, after this post, I'm visualizing the posts to come as a sort of Sketchbook Wandering: Chapter 2.

Maine's Glendarragh Lavender Farm

I always associate lavender with France, Italy & England.

But yesterday we visited a Maine lavender farm! 

After a beautiful ride through green, green, green, 

woods, farms & fields, overlooking rivers & lakes 

& the Camden Hills to the east, 

we arrived at a 26 acre farm in Appleton,

 nestled in rolling meadows & 

filled with French & English lavender, 

flower gardens, bird houses, & old oak trees, 
not to mention happy wanderers.

Glendarragh Farm is open to the public 

only 3 days a year, during the harvest. 

Young student farm workers guide you , 

explain the growing, harvesting & drying processes, 

and share some history of how the farm came to be.

The gift shop, in an old barn, allowed us to bring back home

 a little healthy, therepeutic, aromatic, cheerful Lavender, 

in my case, in the form of a bouquet.

The Glendarragh Farm Lavender shop 

on Camden's Main St. is open year round!

When the front door is open, enchanting, enticing 

fragrance wafts out the door & lures me in, to luxuriate in

the scents of dried lavender,  & lotions & balms,

made by Glendarragh's owner.  

 They are interspersed with lovely treats such as 

blue & lavender scarves, pottery, sachets, & candles... 

The Fourth of July: 

It was a, pastoral, lavender filled summer day...  

9 Bikes, 9 Bike Memories

9 Bikes, 9 Bike Memories

1. That first magical moment, was I six years old? when the bike, the ground & little me, minus training wheels, were in perfect harmony as my father, who was running alongside, let go of the bike. I flew away & left him in the background, cheering. 

2. My father singing "And you'll look sweet, upon the seat, of a bicycle built for two" along with the radio.

3. Riding as late as possible into the evening, after the other kids were in for dinner. It was adventure & independence, the setting was all of 2 suburban blocks.

4. Riding bikes from 7 to 9 in the morning on the Atlantic City boardwalk with my mother, before the walkers, shoppers & beach-goers were out.

5. Riding in Acadia National Park, up challenging hills, up above the blue ocean, below mountains, through spruce woods, past lakes.

6. My longest trip which for me took a lot of strength & courage:  Portland to Kennebunkport, 35 miles, in the midst of peaceful farmland & rolling meadows. 

7. Falling on one of the childhood neighborhood evening rides, all alone, scraped knee, walking my bike back home in tears.

8. Falling twice as an adult, scraped knees & almost tears. 

9. At age 13, trying to draw my bicycle for my art class sketchbook with tears of frustration. Learning about the pleasure that comes with persistence.

I would love to hear your bicycle stories!

The Coptic Stitched Handmade Book

My new beginnings got a little waylaid by an awful cold. But inbetween down times,  I've been learning how to coptic stitch little blank books.

There are a million chances for imperfections: gluing paper onto cardboard for covers, lining up little holes for signatures & binding, the stitching itself, zut alors! I am needing faith & patience with this craft that isn't naturally easy for me. I'm learning that sometimes what I perceive as imperfections along the way are inconsequential in the end. Other times, they are, but I'm learning to accept them as part of the practice.

Part of January has been about sifting through lots of old tidbits of paintings & drawings. Tossing, filing, & re-purposing some for covers & content.

How did it begin? A generous art friend, a prolific & diverse artist who enjoys sharing her joy, gave me a handmade blank book. Click here to see her blog, "sew sew art". At the top, are categories of tutorials. One is "Making Your Own Sketchbook". She refers you to a great Youtube by a bookmaker named Sea Lemon.

Beth's concept of the handmade sketchbook is that it be a "repository", a place in which to put one's ideas, scribbles, plans, notes, inspirations...The book itself is beautiful & precious, & also a wonderful organizing tool. Hallelujah! 

Little scraps of miscellanous doodles get honored here & get the attention they deserve.

The 6 X 9 inch pages take a variety of media & they, as well as the SPIRIT of the handmade book, inspire new doodles & new play. (To the left of this page I've pasted in a greeting card whose design I found appealing & that is related to my own graphic marks.)

After my practice books, I'm ready to make a few books to give away, & to share the craft of the coptic stitched blank book with a few friends. The gift that keeps on giving! Thank you!

Morning Meditation Sketch: Cormorant

Yesterday I attended a lecture at a Rockland gallery by painter & teacher, Bjorn Runquist. He reminded me why it is that I sketch. I stop, I observe, I get to know something, I stay with it, I am present, I am engaged in a moment of life...

Runquist showed a series of small sunrise paintings that were for him morning meditations, his way of greeting the world each morning for a year. 

So this morning, first thing, I found myself on a bench by the harbor of my little town, enjoying once again the pleasure, the process, the meditation of drawing, of sketching, for no one or no reason except to pass a little time in a little piece of the world. Un petit coin de paradis...

Snow Storm: View from the Windows

The snow baubles (previous post) had company during today's snow storm. Beautifully formed white clumps added themselves to the boughs of the pine tree. Cardinals, nuthatches & chicadees are flying from the pines & spruces, whoosh, whoosh, to my neighbors' feeder & back. Soon after I made the above sketch many of the clumps were gone, knocked to the ground by powerful winds.

Surprise! A different type of pine out another window is decorated with bell-shaped cone hats, so different from the other tree. Read a fuller description of my encounter with my upstairs window views on the journal pages. Downstairs, the snowy background for my newly decorated Christmas tree, which is in front of a floor to ceiling window, reminds me of how much I loved the movie White Christmas when I was young & how it made me long to live in New England. Voilà, after all these years, I'm still so happy I got here. No Florida winters for me!

French Accordion Music~ L'accordéon

Friday I played a recording of an accordion waltz at my French story time & we, parents, young children, librarian, danced & spun around the room in between stories & rhymes & songs. C'était très agréable. 

Today, for my blog, I repeated my exercise where I close my eyes & pick an old travel journal at random. Voilà, I picked one with a page describing a 2005 experience I'd had in the Paris Métro. (written on the above page, left side. Click on image to enlarge.) 

Searching "accordéon" I came to "Paris Accordéon": It's a shop on Rue de la lune in the 2ème arrondissement that offers repair, lessons & sales. There's a wonderful video. (click here)  I listened to it en français taking dictation. The monsieur described, played, explained. Several thoughts that I noted (Please excuse errors in my French): 

"On voit beaucoup beaucoup de gens qui sont fous de l’accordéon...Ils sont amoureux de l'accordéon...même les gens qui ne jouent pas."

(They see lots & lots of people who are crazy for the accordion, in love with it.)

"Il y a autant de garçons que des filles qui jouent..."

He talks about an accordion revival in France in the 90's due to a group of popular singers, & how its history is one of dance music...of how people find old accordions in their basements or attics, ones that belonged to their grandfathers. He talks about how accordion music has found its way into jazz & rock....

It's accused of being sentimental music & some people mock it as well as Polkas. But, I'm trying not to care. My passion for accordion music is deep in my Polish blood...

Some years ago I was surprised by an accordionist playing on the streets of The Old Port in Portland: Joe Therriault. I invited him to play at a celebration at our library. It was his CD that I played for the children last Friday. Through the Internet I just learned that he died in 2007 at age 82, & I'm grieving a bit... Like the accordionist in the Paris subway, we had a nice communication, performer & audience sharing a passion. That year I also hosted an accordion festival in conjunction with the French conversation group that I used to lead. During a festival workshop, I held an accordion & tried to play a little...pas facile!...I'm wondering, is it too late to be able to learn on a small one...? 

I guess I'll have to go to Paris Accordéon to find out, n'est-ce pas?