It can get pretty foggy in Davis. After long months of summer, then the odd massive rainstorm, and some cold bright winter days, fog is not exactly the most frequent of visitors, but when it comes it comes. It collects on my top as I cycle down the bike path. It soaks the ground like a rainshower. It hangs around all day, sometimes vanishing in the aftenoon like it never existed, other times – like today – lingering like an army of ghosts. Ok, maybe that’s overdoing it. But it was cold today – I know, it’s freezing brass monkey weather in Britain right now, we can’t complain – and I didn’t much fancy drawing. But I decided to go outside and sketch a tree, my first outside sketch in what feels like ages (the last one was in fact this one, just over a month ago in Burnt Oak), and I’m glad I did, I got some fresh air. Or fresh fog, at least.
Tag: watercolour
i wish it could be christmas every day
I hope you all had a very Happy Christmas! We did. A Merry one too.
This is the very Christmassy fireplace at my wife’s mom’s house. To carry a British tradition over with me, I brought a tin of Quality Street from the UK, and to carry on another tradition (a Scully tradition) I swiftly nabbed all the purple ones before you could say ‘ho ho ho’!
America doesn’t have Cliff Richard, thankfully. But I did make sure we listened to Slade, Wizzard and Shakin’ Stevens on the way over. Along with John Denver and the Muppets, of course! I must say thought that since moving to America, Jose Feliciano’s ‘Feliz Navidad‘ has become one of my favourite Chrimbo songs!
On Christmas Eve I made some delicious mince pies – my son even left one out for Santa. I did add finely ground sugar (I ground it myself!) to decorate them. That one on the end exploded a little. I did also make big individual trifles, but didn’t photograph them, in case I turned into a foodblogger (we watched Julie and Julia the other day).
for your mince pies only
Happy New Year!
walk this way
The last of my sketches from the trip back home to London. Burnt Oak, Middlesex, to be precise. Well Middlesex doesn’t really exist any more except in post codes, it’s part of Greater London these days – it has been wiped off the map (in the non-Ahmedinedjad sense, or maybe that is what he meant?). Anyway, this was the view out my bedroom window all through growing up, the orange-bricked houses and narrow tarmac pavements of the typical working class council estate. Those trees in the distance, that is Watling Park. Now I am in the distance again, back in California, far away from all the snow and chaos, and I haven’t done much drawing yet. But tonight, for the first time ever, I will attempt to make mince pies. Merry Christmas!
angels on silver strings hang from above
After spending some time among the wild stones of Highgate Cemetery, I strolled through the park and back up to the village and sat in the middle of a traffic island, sketching the Angel Inn. Yup, another pub drawn. It’s a nice, warm pub with a good atmosphere and nice beers. I didn’t have the time (or energy) to draw the inside – some other occasion maybe. I would sometimes pop in here when I lived on Hornsey Lane, just down the hill. When I came out of the Angel Inn, the Sun had long since flown and the pretty garlands were zigzagging down Highgate Hill.
I hear there is a lot of snow in London these days. Have they learned to grit the roads on time yet? I remember back in, ooh, ’04 I think it was, the second annual Arctic Blast that caught us all by surprise (by giving us three days’ notice), and how my boss gave me a lift back from Finchley to Crouch End, bypassing the strangled traffic on the main iced-up roads by cleverly taking the back streets, but then having to navigate through stranded cars and sliding buses down Highgate Hill. It was like something from the Winter Olympics, but in extreme slow motion. Pretty scary. Highgate is a very steep hill.
frame thy fearful cemetery
What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images
(T.S Elliot, ‘The Waste Land’)
I love Highgate Cemetery. They used to say there were vampires here, many years ago, but surely they would all have book deals by now. I haven’t been into the famous boneyard in a long time but really wanted to come and catch some sketches here. Or one at least, while the sunlight was still good. I didn’t bother with the main paved routes but dove straight into the thick overgrown muddy paths, where not a single grave is standing straight, and ivy covers the moss-green stone tombstones of someone possibly famous who you’ve never heard of. Everyone is here to see Marx, of course, the tourists from China who all had to study his works at college, snapping a photo next to the bearded tomb; I tried to sketch it but it looked like Santa. I took photos of the cemetery myself – who couldn’t? – and one of them is below. As for sketching, I enjoyed hiding among the dead and drawing the above. I was out of the way. There was one other person I think who appeared from time to time, stealing photos between the stones, but otherwise all I could hear were the crows. I was eager to include the entrance ticket (four quid to get in, by the way) on the page but forgot to account for the red writing contrasting with the greens and greys. It didn’t stop me.
prince charming
It wasn’t as grey as it looks. It was a bright cold morning (with a chance of scattered showers turning cloudy later in the day), and so after a morning spent christmas shopping in Edgware I popped back down to Burnt Oak Broadway to do a sketch of a building I’ve always quite liked, but a pub I’ve never actually entered: The Prince of Wales (just known locally as the Prince). I thought it would make a nice drawing, since I’m into drawing pubs these days. Naturally, standing on the open street like that I kept my eyes open; I grew up trying hard not to stand out too much around here (not easy for a gawky red-head kid who held his pen in a funny way). I didn’t have to worry, nobody cared, no hoodies shouting “oi!” I quite like drawing Burnt Oak, in fact. You grow up there thinking about how grim it feels but there really is a lot of interesting stuff to draw.
when i first saw your gallery
The National Gallery, and the church of St. Martin-in-the-Fields, Trafalgar Square. I ksetched there while there was still daylight to draw in – the Sun goes down so early in London, earlier than in California (by about eight hours or so). It was bitterly cold of course, but I braved it, and not only because I happened to see other sketchers out doing the same. One artist did stop and chat with me, asked if I was part of the group of people out sketching the square for some drawing day; I said no, but wish I’d known! Someone else asked if I was an architect.
I love that the north side of Trafalgar Square is pedestrianized, it will never cease to be a novelty to me. I remember when the very idea was deemed unthinkable, back when traffic ploughed endlessly through this very spot, but when they paved it over they turned it into an incredible open space, a public plaza that was actually worth visiting (cheers Ken!). I used to work on the open-top tour buses that would stop right outside the National Gallery – which by the way is one of the wonders of the art world, and like so many such places in London is completely free; I used to joke that my favourite room was the shop, because it had all the artwork in mini postcard form and took a fraction of the time to see them all. But for me, this spot will always be where I used to catch the Night Bus in the wee hours (that is quite literally the wee hours, with drunken people peeing all over the place). Along with the rest of London. I would stand here, sometimes for hours, waiting for my elusive N5 (they are far more frequent these days – cheers Ken!), to take my tired self home. You had to catch it from here to be sure of a seat in those days. Oh the memories. I’m glad they paved it over.
sweet fanny ann
A little pause in the London sketches – I’m about halfway through now so still many more to come! Here is my first drawing since coming back to the US: Fanny Ann’s Saloon in Old Town Sacramento.
I had to go to Sac to do a spot of Christmas shopping. And it absolutely peed down with rain. I had intended on stopping by here on the way home to maybe catch a sketch, but the enormous rainstorm meant I had a bit more time to do so. This is one of the most sketchable pubs in this part of California – there is so much paraphernalia to draw, hanging from the walls and rafters. I will draw more of that some time. It’s a little touristy, being in the middle of the old Gold Rush era cowboy town, but it’s friendly and a nice pit-stop. And the beer is good too.
the ship has weathered every rack
This is The Ship, on Wardour Street. Everyone knows The Ship. It’s a small place that never really seems to change, and it’s one of my favourite little pubs in Soho. I used to come here a fair bit in my twenties. Being located right in the middle of soho helps, and I like to stop here whenever I’m back on a sketching trip to Soho, to warm up, and have a beer. I did so this time back, this time sketching it to boot. My pens were protesting so much at the cold that I had to put my pencil case on the radiator, while I ate a jacket potato. I hope this place doesn’t change. It’s a port of refuge of sameness every time I come back, while other old, familiar places are closing down around us. But everyone knows The Ship.
your golden section
Another from the afternoon sketchathon in Soho. We made our way through art shops (I love Cass Arts on Berwick St, and Cowling & Wilcox on Broadwick St) and questionable alleys to the slightly more upscale edge of Soho at Golden Square. I had forgotten how early the Sun goes down in England in November – it was getting dark at half past three – and it was getting colder too, so we sat in the square and drew some architecture, while the Moon shone down upon us (that’s that little white circle up in the sky on that sketch there).
There I am, uni-pin fineliner in hand. After this, another old pub, The Old Coffee House on Beak St.
petescully 