Category: watercolour

of vegetable matters.

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As much as I have a minor pre-occupation with so-called “urban” sketching, my situation, life, and local environment often steer me towards subject matter that is decidedly more suburban, rural, or parkland. In other words, leafing through my growing stack of sketchbooks, the common theme seems to trend towards nature, trees, insects, and outdoors… in the wilderness sense. In the winter this has meant snow and brown, leafless trees. In the autumn I specifically went

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on the first day of daily drawing.

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If you haven’t been keeping up with my daily notes, then you may also be unaware that I’ve dubbed March 2023 a month called #mARTch and am planning on drawing, sketching, painting, and otherwise being squwetchy all through the 31 days of this month, As I write this, the first day of March is essentially three quarters over, but I’ve fulfilled my end of that bargain and already produced a not-terrible watercolour. In my planning

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on a winter getaway.

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It’s a long weekend in Canada and so with neither work nor school for anyone on Monday we skipped off to the mountains for some nordic-style fun in the alpine climate. We travel out there quite often. To that point, I had bought a “travel” sketchbook that I’d intended to be for travel sketching but after the fifth time I brought it to the local mountains and drew pictures of wildlife, flora, waterfalls, pine trees,

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of a fictional nature.

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One of the struggles any artist will eventually face, I think, is that of defining a personal style. What do you draw? What medium do you use? What feeling are you going for? How do you want to be seen? A lot of learning comes from imitation of someone else, watching the technique of others and trying to replicate it. But that’s just all it is: technique. At some point a whole bunch of pieces

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from a cold winter walk.

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It’s been a few weeks since I posted a sketch. In fact, it’s been a few weeks since I painted or sketched anything of any worth. That’s what happens when a beloved family member, even one who is a hundred and one years old, falls into a three week decline leading to their passing. Grief can be creative muse, but it was not mine. I went for a lot of walks in January, often taking

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