Where I Lay My Head, That's Where I Call Home

I've been obsessed with the idea of sketch journals for years after reading Carnet De Voyage by Craig Thompson. When I think back it's certainly one of the reasons for renewed(new?) interest in drawing from life that happened a couple of years ago.

So when I moved to San Francisco, I wanted to do something similar, at least to the best of my abilities. Not that I've been able to focus on much besides my new surroundings anyways.



It took four days for my bike to arrive on the train, and this is the first day after that. I had no idea to do this for a week at the time, I just didn't want to be sitting alone with a three dollar glass of wine and matted helmet hair not doing anything but staring.

A few days later it happened again for the same reason, except it was coffee instead of wine.

At this point I'd decided to run with the concept of doing a line drawing a day for the week. This is a theme (the concept, not the schedule) I plan to continue for as long as I can. I'm also keeping a smaller sketchbook for bars, and restaurants, or when I cant bring a bag with me. I'm interested in doing more portraits, and I'm hoping with school I can begin doing that. In a way I think it validates the experience past what I can do just by living it.

The use of ink signifies me being more comfortable in my surroundings, or I forgot my art kit and the pen was all I had. I'll let you decide. The best part of doing these, is that they really allow me to draw like a child again. I'm only reacting to what I see, rather than laying down construction lines. Good a reason as any to keep using the pen.

That, and it makes me feel like Robert Crumb...

(who incidentally migrated from Cleveland to San Francisco)

I had my gall (this gets bigger when you click on it, actually they all do). I had a tourist take a photo of me while I drew this, which took two hours.

The temperature changed twenty-six times in that period.

(BTW, this is the Bay, and not the Golden Gate bridge. I'm holding out, because I'm convinced that I'll have to draw that for a class.)

(and bridges are hard.)

In the castro waiting to get my haircut. Like the day before, I had people commenting on this, which honestly means a heck of a lot. Especially because it was from high school kids walking home, and they hate everything. At almost thirty years old I still don't know how to properly take a compliment, but they're the only things that keep me going sometimes.

Living in Tremont I never took advantage of drawing all the great churches there. Looking back, I wish I would have drawn more from the time I lived there. I certainly lived an interesting life full of much more interesting people. I suppose I never had the confidence to pull it off.

It's funny what a cross-country move will do for you.