Sneek a Peek into my sketchy life – nudes and buts

Sorry, I’ve been blogged-out for so long.  I know, I know, yet another sorry-I’ve-been-gone-for-so-long-post.  

BUT I decided today is a brand new beginning.  “BUT” literally and figuratively.  (For those of you who are squeamish scroll down to the nude part because I begin with the BUTT . . .  mine to be exact.)  

Just had a colonoscopy. The bad news – I didn’t have a very good day yesterday.  The good news – I lost 4 pounds.  The bad news – I have wasted today sleeping.  The good news – I don’t remember a thing.  

Now that I’m squeaky clean it’s time for a new start – Going to go back to cutting out (maybe down) on refined sugar & carbs and cutting up on the internet.

Here’s my latest sketches.  I start with my favorite:


10 minute charcoal sketch


20 minute charcoal sketch


10 minute charcoal sketch

My First Art Class

Baha’i teaches: “We must not only be patient with others, infinitely patient, but also with our own poor selves.” – Abdu’l-Baha

The first art class I ever take is first semester, freshman year in college 1983. I think it will be a fun way to get units.

Placing object in a scene

MOVING object in a scene

Rabbit pitcher with cigarette in pour-hole.  (parents smoked, it was 1963)

Rabbit pitcher with cigarette in pour-hole. (parents smoked, HEY! it was 1963)

We work on easels, drawing huge pictures on large sheets of paper.  The first class I discover that during breaks students walk around the room looking at each others drawings. I walk around too.  Their drawings are REALLY good, so good that I dread going to the second class and the first class is only half-way over.

Second class I get there early to claim my spot.  I position my easel at the very back of the room, in a corner, making it very difficult for anyone, including the teacher, to see my drawings.

Anatomy study - my own foot with a plastic rose

Anatomy study – my own foot holding a plastic rose (better than a cigarette)

The teacher walks around the room commenting on the students’ drawings.  He scrunches himself in the corner to see my drawings, says nothing and walks on.  The third class he pulls me aside and instructs me to get a large sketchbook and draw 50 pictures outside the class. (Turns out this is the ONLY instruction he ever gives me the entire semester)

The fourth class I discover I am the only student enrolled who isn’t an art major and has never taken an art class in their life.  Being straight out of high school and extremely conscientious it never crosses my mind to withdraw.  It probably crosses the art teacher’s mind.  To my relief the other students stop trying to see what I’m drawing.


Mom’s kitchen, staged – slightly askew

P.S. I kept the sketch book.   I commuted to the University from home so all my drawings were things in or around my parent’s house.  I was always desperate trying to find things that were easy to draw. The 4 drawings on this page are some of my first 50 sketches.   That was the last drawing class I ever took at that University.

Drawing class

painful,  humbling

Sketch book – priceless

and now drawing with words, my “Health” haiku:

creating from heart

pure emotion of being

soul singing out loud