A quick post to say happy birthday to my good friend Phil. And happy 21-year friendversary!
I took this photo during our trip to Chichester in September last year. It reminds me of a lot of his urban texture photography.
058 something something
Day fifty-eight of The 100 Day Project for 2021.
I'm calling this piece "something something". Not because it's not evident the source image is an ornament, specifically a paperweight.
But because my drawing of it captures none of that. And I knew it was unlikely to. Given my drawing skills and the fact I went into this sketch thinking, "let's just do something abstract and not worry about photorealism."
For the record: I would love to be able to draw this paperweight in a photorealistic style. Let's maybe give me a good few years before I can expect to manage that, though.
Instead, my sketch somewhat reminds me of the blobfish John Oliver was, once again, engaging with on the most recent episode of Last Week Tonight. Though not quite. I can't quite work out what my rendering reminds me of, really.
Nevertheless, I sketched what is now yesterday's drawing with a 4H pencil. Then I went over elements with a 6B, a 4B, a 2B and an HB pencil.
(No, I don't know what I have against odd numbers either. I'm quite fond of the number 13 and the number 9, if truth be told, so it's nothing personal).
To be honest, I'm not sure if this was a success or a failure. I'll let you guys decide.
Meanwhile, I have a conflicting relationship with what I refer to as 'dust catchers'.
As a kid, I know I was responsible for the gifting of many dust catchers. Items that served no other purpose but ornamentation and, invariably, they catch dust.
To my knowledge, my mother never threw out any of the dust catchers we bought her (at least not for years).
Whether it be a small, purely ornamental harlequin doll or a somewhat practical clear plastic earring ladder, all invariably purchased from our local chemist.
They graced her bedside cabinet with pride because she received them from her children. Paid for with their pocket money and delivered with love.
As I got older, I vowed not to give dust catcher gifts unless they also provided some practical purpose. Thus my oil/vinegar decanter gift to Simon for his birthday in 2019.
Having said that, I do have papers that could do with weighting, but they're not on my desk as my desk space is limited.
So, arguably, I could be a bit confronted by Simon's gifts to me in recent years. But I'm just not. Because they're beautiful.
And at some point, I really need to photograph them properly. Because, especially in close-up, they're truly beautiful.
They remind me of the marbles we had as kids, both in our collections and in the game of solitaire my grandparents had. But infinitely more detailed and intricate.
I don't know the background of the first paperweight he gifted me for Christmas 2018. But the one he found for me for Christmas last year and that I've attempted to render above is a Caithness moon crystal. It is small but exquisite.
At some point, I hope to attempt to draw a photograph I took of the larger one. Stay tuned.
048 intersecting
Day forty-eight of The 100 Day Project for 2021.
I know it's lame. But this is really all I had the energy for in the last hour of yesterday. And I didn't even get the perspective from the photograph right.
The source photograph was taken in 2017 in the church in which my great grandparents married.
Except not really.
Because on the third night of the London Blitz, at 22:20 on 9 September 1940, a bomb destroyed the majority of St Mary's Church in Islington, London. Leaving only the tower and spire intact.
A church by the same name still stands there. But, in reality, it's not the same church.
I visited the church with my parents in 2017 when they were in London last.
This was a photograph I took with my phone of the flooring inside the church. It made for a simple subject for today.
I wavered about shading it but decided not to.
The initial sketch was drawn with a 4H pencil. I went over the lines in 4B for the edges of the blue circle, 2B for the yellow one. And HB for the edges of the cream shapes (or whatever colour you want to classify them).
into the blue
They walked together in the cold dusk air in silence. Holding hands, gazing up at the clouds moving across the sky. The clouds transforming, breaking apart and reforming, moulded by the wind before their eyes. The blue hour came and went as they walked along the beach; a layer of sand clinging to their damp feet, the excess falling from their toes as they walked. The clouds, at first plump and white before sunset, became thin and wispy and moved at the whim of the salty night air. As the sky darkened and the sun disappeared below the horizon the clouds became less and less distinct from the sky. But as the moon rose in the sky and the clouds moved between them and it, the moon’s glow picked out the frayed edges of the clouds. They watched as the shapes of the clouds morphed, reminding each of them of one thing then another.
As they moved through the club, the music so loud they felt it in their bellies, the lights moved through their cycle of colours. Pink, red and yellow, then green, violet and blue. The strobe pulsed with the bass. Lighting up the dancefloor like a camera flash; capturing still moments while dancers moved in time with the music. She led him by the hand as they walked through the crowded club. They made a bee-line toward the dancefloor sticky with spilt drinks and humid from the sweat of so many bodies in such a small space. The smoke machine by the DJ's booth belched out coconut-scented smoke, masking the odour of so many sweaty bodies and the scent of sex. They danced for a while; favourite songs pouring out of the speakers. Their bodies in rhythm with each other from so many nights spent together on dancefloors around town. When they'd had enough they collapsed into each other on a stained and worn velour couch that's original colour was now hard to discern even when the house lights went up at 5 am. They sank blissfully into the couch and each other's arms.
They sat on the sand, the headlights from his car providing light for them to see each other by. Rugged up in coats and blankets, mittens and beanies, they curled up close to draw heat from each other. They couldn't light a fire on the beach, so they shivered in the spotlight of the low beams, watching the fog drift in from the sea and their warm breath billow against the cold night air. They giggled together as they attempted to blow smoke rings into the sky. The car radio, picking up the only station nearby, played a mixture of golden oldies, and love songs and dedications. They pressed their faces, blushed pink from the cold, together in an attempt to bring feeling back to flesh. Their warm breath mingled and rose into the cold night air as though from one person. They lay back to stare up at the cloudless sky and the stars overhead as the classic hits continued to pour from the tinny speakers in the car’s dashboard.
Their clothes were strewn behind them, discarded on the sand like breadcrumbs in fairytales, as they ran through the rain toward the waves. The beach was deserted this time of night, especially in this inclement weather. There was no one around to see their antics or their naked bodies as they ran into the water. The water still warm from the heat of the sun earlier in the day, but cooling on their skin. They waded together and splashed each other with the salty, foamy water as they moved into the shallows. As they sauntered further in they savoured the lapping tide moving against their bodies and the rain falling on their bare skin. The water now up to their waists, they clasped hands again and moved out until the water was almost up to their shoulders. They leaned their heads back in the water, lifting their feet off the seabed, floating with eyes up toward the sky. After allowing their bodies to float for a while, they swam together, heads under the water. They rolled over in the water from time to time and opened their eyes to look up at the night sky through the waves. Watching the ripples of moonlight and the lights along the boardwalk refracting through the water's surface. Marvelling at the patterns and shapes of light drifting through the water. Lost together in the beauty of the moment and submerged in their muted underwater world.