m. p i l g r i m (art)

 This was out the window.  To put this in context, I should  explain that I work in a psychiatric hospital.  These were on the table.     I made a colleague wait to eat until I was done drawing her snack. Sketching during meeting often prompts The Doctor to ask, "we're not boring you, are we?"  To which I reply, "no, I'm good--see, I've got stuff to draw." Later, I worked on stuff in my back yard.     There is a huge wall next to my house.  I think I want to paint a mural. Scenes from my back yard.   This does not show how awesome my backyard is.  My Beloved is a crazy talented gardner, and as soon as I can decently render pictures in color, you'll see. Oh yes.  You will.

I spent this week drawing people. On mother's day, I drew my mom, Linda. I also drew my youngest son, who graduated, and tried to draw my husband.   My mom, aside from being pragmatic about becoming an artist, rarely encouraged me in the direction of art.  Oh, sure, when I was little she would show me how to draw a daffodile on a rainy day, or explain to me that the reason that the little kid at the mall was so funny-looking was that his face was not in proper proportion...but aside from that, little was said in the way of art instructions.  She taught others.  She answered my questions, but never urged me or pushed me. I find that curious.  She nearly forced me to take piano, ballet, trumpet, gymnastics...but never art lessons.  When I joined the art club in jr high, she was uninterested. That which she lived and breathed 24/7, so much so that I think she was annoyed by the need to sleep.  That thing, she did not share with me. Was it becau...

graphite, charcoal stupid blog won't let me center this.

Like, literally, eyes.