Currently Browsing: Dottie 17 articles


Practice Before Bed

Just a need to draw something.

Prized Possessions: Episode Five—Dottie’s Last Rubber Ball

Remembering Dottie.


Tucker at 11 Weeks

The title of this post says it all.


Dog Days

 Left: journal sketch of a Boston Terrier for a painting series I am working on. Page size 6.5 inches square. Pentel Pocket Brush Pen and gouache. Click on the image for an enlargement. Today is Emma’s death day (you would expect a student of Victorian Lit. to hold such memorials). The change in seasons is […]


On the Importance of Warm-ups

Right: Another in my series “deconstructing” my 2008 State Fair sketches. This page spread is in a 6 x 9 inch (approx.) journal made with Zerkal's Nideggen paper. Click on the image to view an enlargement.

No this isn’t another cold weather post. The type of warm-up I want to mention today is the warm-up of hand-eye coordination when you are drawing. The  journal spread on the right shows that sometimes I can jump into a drawing without being sufficiently warmed up. The large sketch on the recto page started with the eye but is really nothing more than a contour drawing. It’s the begining of a discussion between me, the subject, and the paper, but only the first utterance.

Snow from a Dog’s Perspective, and an Art Call

Snow Dog on Film
My friend Wendy sent me to see this film about a snow-dog. I heartily recommend it. I laughed and laughed while I watched it. This is an embodiment of pure joy. Wendy said she didn't understand people who lived in the snow, but that the dog was cool. Well she lives where it is warm so we have to make allowances for gaps in her thought process! Living where there is snow means you are privileged (or forced) each year to see some spectacularly beautiful landscapes (snowscapes), to develop a squint in your eye from gazing out over those same snowscapes and the dazzling light they reflect, and to yearn for that beauty all year long forgetting the temperatures that accompany it (because everyone has their own price tag on what they will give for beauty).


Roz’s Dirty Little Secret


Above: Dottie (left, a very gangly adolescent), Emma (right; "you can't be serious about this hat.")

Yes I have a dirty little secret. (Don't we all? But it's not that I consume my body weight in chocolate every 10 to 12 days. That's no secret. Please don't sic Dr. Gillian McKeith on me, because if I am forced to look at all the little Dove pieces arrayed on a table, in front of an international television audience, I just might get confrontational.)

I love holiday letters. I'm a pantheist, or maybe a progressive heathen, no, definitely a pantheist. I don't really have a holiday to celebrate so I celebrate every day. But as the end of the year draws close and the postal box clogs with catalogs and missives from friends my happiness increases greatly. I just find those rambling wrap-up-the-year-epistles that accompany the holiday cards engrossing. I know it is fashionable to be snippy and snide about such impersonal, scatter-shot notes right now—but did I mention I love them?

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