Roz Wound Up

Let's End the Year with Reflection, a Dog, and New Goals

Left: A quick study of a Jack Russell Terrier using Tombow Pens on some discontinued drawing paper. Click on the image to view an enlargement. (Also remember that Tombow Pens are not archival and you can read about them in an earlier post.)

I've written a lot on this blog about the importance of having goals, managing goals, assessing goals, and establishing new goals.

Goals, goals, goals, goals. I wrote about my cycling goals in yesterday's post. Today I wanted to say something about my journaling and painting goals.

On December 31, 2010 I wrote a post about being present. That continues to be my most important on-going goal.

Life this year has offered up some interesting reminders that goals have to be grounded in the life you are actually living. I've lost several friends this year and we are helping Dick's parents negotiate frailty and old age. None of this happens on a time table that you can dictate. While you may make certain appointments ahead of time there will always be the odd thing that pops up. On a lot of days I admit to losing my sense of humor. On other days you just can't help but laugh (after the fact)—like the day I spent all morning crying at my cousin's funeral and then had to go and have publicity photos shot. Things happen when they happen and you simply have to find some way to keep firmly on the planet.

I'm grateful for friends like Diane who has been walking before me in a similar journey with her parents, yet graciously stopping and reaching back to pull me forward whenever she can. She is an amazing person. I've spent our entire friendship bossing her around and yet she still loves me enough to stand by me while I learn humility and not say "I told you so."

If it weren't for outings with Roseanne and Nan whose own lives have had great turmoil and stress I think I might even have forgotten how to laugh.

And I know I have to keep moving forward or my friend Linda will come after me.

I think of friends like Karen and Pat whom I call, and don't even tell them what I'm thinking. I just want to hear what is going on in their lives because then it seems that things are normal.

It's these women and many more friends like them who have made the past year possible and enjoyable and I'm grateful. They all help me stay present, whether it's talking about Photoshop with my friend Tom, or being out sketching at the Fair with my old friend Ken or my new friend Bill. 

So I think for now the mechanism for working on being present is in place, working, and I'll just keep at it.

Which means I can focus on other goals such as what I want to do creatively in 2013.

First I have to look at what I was able to do in 2012.

It's kind of a mixed bag. On the one hand I created 25 journals—volumes A12 through Y12. (You can see how I organize and index my journals here if you don't already know.)

I created a total of 1,615 pages. That's the closest I've come to having a journal for each letter of the alphabet in a given year. It's the largest page count of any year in my life. (Even in college—where I produced more written than visual pages and a ton of time I didn't reach that number.)

(I just realized if I had counted my fake journal that would have pushed me to Z, drat! But I never number that journal in the regular stream of things…)

I can look at all those pages and the thoughts expressed on them and see what I was pushing myself to do. I still need a lot of pushing. I need to look at ways in 2013 that I can refine that pushing in an effort to improve results.

But behind those numbers of pages is a troubling reality for me, something that needs immediate addressing, but which may not be possible to address and maybe my head is just going to explode. In 2012 while I was generating all those pages I finished very few paintings. 

I had hoped that 2012 would be a huge painting year.

When I look at my year I can see how I made time for painting, but then the realities of life interrupted. OK, that happens. So the positive aspect of the intrusion of reality is that even though I couldn't paint I kept flexing my creative muscles, generating pages, working on skill sets I'd previously identified as necessary to focus on—like learning what the heck happens under a person's nose anyway and how you can draw that in one line!

(My goals are often small.)

If you read this blog for some sort of creative inspiration or push (and so many of you write in and tell me that you do) I hope that what you take away from this post is that I believe it's better to have a little bit of art and creativity every day, than to go through long dry periods without.

I have found that because I kept pushing myself when distractions and conditions presented themselves for my attention I was ready to go when opportunities presented for extended art efforts. I didn't have to jump from zero to 80 miles per hour because I was always going along at a steady 30 mph.

I have found this to be true throughout my life. But this year it was present in high relief. There was no ignoring it, let's just say that.

I also cut myself a little slack. I still haven't scanned images from my 2012 State Fair journal. Too much happened at that time. The goal of that time was to just make it to the Fair and get some sketching in. I did that. Goal accomplished. Even if the universe tells you there isn't time to do the one thing you love—don't believe it. It's a mirage. You can do it.

Because of the events of this past year I've scaled back my involvement in outside activities. I teach less. Additionally now that there are so many opportunities in the Twin Cities for people to go out and sketch in groups (beyond the events that I've personally pushed and organized to encourage sketchers of all types) I decided that it was time for me to focus on my solo sketching again. The last 6 months have been a great time for me to return to following my own internal clock for sketching desires without external input. I intend to continue in this vein.

I started a painting project this fall (dog portraits) where I would meet with the dogs in their yards and sketch them and then go home and paint. Unfortunately I managed to work out the 90 minutes with the dogs, through the graciousness of their owners, but the returning home to paint portion—well there were just too many doctor's visits with the folks, or other deadlines. For the first time that I can remember I actually had to instantly recast a project because it wasn't going to work out similar to anything I had envisaged.

I'm happy to say that the project is now on a slower track and I'm thoroughly enjoying it. While I will still end with paintings from all this effort, the project has turned out as you might have suspected—Roz just really likes to draw dogs. Since she doesn't have one, she's going to want to come over to your house and sketch yours. It's that simple.

The end of each year is a time for me to take my emotional, physical, and artistic temperature. And then set up new goals for the coming year. (I also do this quarterly, so I know I can self correct before the end of next year.)

As mentioned above I'll be continuing my dog project. I'm going to increase the time I spend at life drawing. I'm going to increase my solo sketch outs to 2011 levels.

Now that I'm used to the new camera I got before the 2012 Minnesota State Fair I'm actually going to make a video of that book and post it soon, in the new year! (It's an easy goal I can check off the list quickly.)

I've cleared out old work and jobs from the studio and I've purged the shelves of books and supplies that will not have a chance with me in the future. Going forward I feel this will also allow me to move on a couple projects I wanted to show you on the blog, but never got around to posting—some reviews and my trip to Wisconsin this fall.

The rumor that I am joining the Peace Corps is in fact not true. The rumor that I may take up improv is less untrue.

Also in 2013 I am going to change the format for my visual journal over the next several months—for reasons I'll make clear to you when they become more clear to me.

Now I'd better go and read that stack of books on the table so I can meet that last goal of "reviews."

I don't put a lot of emphasis on December 31 as a special day, because I really do believe you can decide on any day that "this is the day" you change, improve, begin a new project, discover your vocation, or simply relax.

I think change is both the easiest thing we do as humans and the hardest. I appreciate you spending time with me, just about every day, thinking about things we enjoy in common and sometimes thinking about things that frustrate us on varying levels.

I always enjoy hearing from you about your own creative journeys. And I appreciate the attention you spend on Roz Wound Up. I hope you have a 2013 that is filled with goals that push you, but which you meet—after the usual second act slump of indecision and hitting the wall. That's where it gets fun.  

Roz Cycles through 2012, Finding Her Way Back to Balance

It's December 30. The foot of snow we had on December 9 has melted and compacted a bit, and been dusted with a couple fresh, light applications of additional snow—just enough to make everything look quite pretty.

Since there is no heat wave in the forecast and only one more day in the year, it is a given that I will not be riding my bike outside today or tomorrow and that biking for the year is really over. (Well it's been over since that snow!)

I like to look back at my year and assess my goals. One goal I had for 2012 was to ride 2,500 miles outside on my bike. I hit 2,507 miles on Saturday, October 14.

It was a long riding season. The 2011-12 winter was warm and mild so the months at the beginning of 2012 were warmish and snow free. By spring of 2012 I'd ridden my bike at least one day every month of the previous 12 months. This year, 2012, I've been on a ride at least one day in every month of the year as well, though biking ended much earlier for me this year than in 2011.

(I won't ride outside when it gets below about 35 degrees Fahrenheit and if there is rain or ice on the road.)

I have to share something with you all, because this blog is about my enthusiasms, and because biking is probably one of my main enthusiasms, and because I'm a bicycling addict, but I believe I actually found balance this year—though it didn't start out that way…

Typically I will ride a route that takes me 17 miles through the city, on dedicated paths where other bikers commute, or simply exercise. It's a wonderful thing to be able to cut through the city like that, see a cross section of neighborhoods, and just go and go without much interference from cars.

I have other routes that take me along the parkway. Those are beautiful routes along the Mississippi River Gorge. I've seen eagles and hawks (within 6 feet of me) and a variety of other birds. There is shade from the sun. It's all pretty wonderful.

It is so wonderful, and I love riding my bike so much, that we (Dick and I) have actually put a cap on what I can ride in a day—17 miles, which I can do in an hour. Otherwise I would be tempted each week to go farther. Instead I concentrate on going faster, or riding better (however I define that on a given day—but typically it means crushing some 24-year-old).

Cycling is my time. No one to talk with, nothing to do but peddle, concentrate on my breathing; just thinking. Thinking, thinking, thinking. I come up with the best ideas when I am biking. 

And the endorphins are not to be sneered at. It's a hard high to come down from at the end of the season when I have to start riding inside on a bike attached to a trainer. (Indoor miles are just not the same, even though the ceiling fan directly above me does provide a little bit of a breeze.)

Last year I rode 2,521 miles outside. You can read about my thoughts on biking in 2011 here.

I began again at zero on January 1, 2012. My goal was to get out as much as possible again, within the constraints of "the hour-a-day for cardio" rules we'd set up. I had a vague sense that I'd like to get to 2,500 miles again this year, just to show myself it wasn't a fluke. But other than that I didn't have any goals. I just wanted to keep riding because when I keep riding my knees feel great and I can bound up stairs. Stop riding, no bounding.

Every year since I've returned to biking in 2008 the pressure has increased—the pressure to ride more and more. It's an internal pressure. I just love cycling. When I talk about it people always look askance at me and say, "Why does Dick have any say in what you ride each day?"

What people don't understand is that the person living with the addict (that would be Dick, living with me the addict) has to deal with the fallout when things go into a tailspin. And besides that I've always talked my workouts over with Dick, he did coach after all. And except for that stupid idea of restricted breathing he's been a pretty good sounding board. 

I like to think of myself as independent, and low maintenance. In most things I think Dick will agree I am both of those things. But in other aspects of my life Dick is pretty much the gravity that holds me on the planet. So if I am going to do some dumb ass move like ride 80 miles a day and fall apart physically, the least I can do is talk it over with him first—since he'll have to put me together later.

I avoid the whole issue by not riding 80 miles a day. But don't think I haven't thought about it. Only my respect for Dick, and his already full plate of activities, keeps me from doing that.

Now that you know all that you'll understand what happened—and how it was a nerve wracking, but exciting time this fall. 

Once I hit 2,500 miles for 2012 I started to do the math. This is an involved equation dividing miles left into days left when days left in the season is figured out by voodoo calculations and old weather data and current bad projections by "weathermen."

It was October and I started to get a little panicky. For a couple days I said to myself, "I think I can make it to 3,000." Then for a couple days I would redo the math and say, "Nope, don't even try. It's going to snow." Other days I would say, "What if? What if we lifted the 17-mile-a-day limit?"

After about 8 days "What if?" started to be all I thought about. All calculations started to take "What if?" into consideration. "What if I rode 20 miles every day, 23 miles everyday, what is the limit I can ride?"

Another reason I don't ride over 17 miles on a daily basis is that road noise bothers my hands when I ride 22 miles a day for more than 3 days in a row. (At least it always has.)

My desk was littered with scraps of paper with day counts and mile counts and projections. I was in thrall to my addiction. I had another goal. I wanted to reach 3,000.

I did what any addict would do. I went to my enabler and presented a rational, reasonable case as to why the hour ban should be lifted.

First I admitted to the low back problems I'd had since returning from teaching color theory (and having 4 days off). (I just came back way too strong with a 22 mile speed day. Stupid.)

Second, I assured him that if I reached 3,000 I wouldn't just turn around and say, "Let's go for 3,500," because "Look, there aren't going to be the days. It's going to snow. I know that."

(I didn't really KNOW that, but I KNEW that in my heart.)

Third, I promised to stop if the road noise bothered my hands enough to hamper my work effort. If my hands were numb when I tried to work for hours and hours I would become pretty grumpy pretty fast and it would be worse than being unable to bound up stairs.

Fourth, I explained that I'd really thought about all this and knew that I wanted to go for this goal. I didn't think I'd get these miles next year and it might be my last time. But most importantly I believed that if I could lift the ride limit and give this a go, I'd be happy with whatever resulted, and I wouldn't feel like an addict.

(I know, incredible bullshit comes out of my mouth when I talk to people.)

And fifth and finally—I shut up, and waited.

Because my dad, and every successful businessman who has started as a salesman has always told me, talk and then shut up—the first person to speak is hooked.

And I waited. 

And then LB looked at me with complete understanding and compassion and went over each of my points one by one. Waiting for me to nod in agreement. And gave me exactly what I wanted, his complete support—to ride as much as I wanted.

Which of course has the wonderful effect of making me sensible and self-limiting.

There was snow on the ground Monday, November 12, and I had 188 miles to go. I even had to ride the trainer the next day, just so I wouldn't have too many days off. But then I jumped in with a vengeance: 19, 23, 17, 25. My plan was to have a light regular day and push a little extra mileage every other day.

I rode 21 miles (a horribly windy day which would only be more windy later so get out now!) and came back knowing that one of my tires was toast. As soon as I got out of the shower I went to the bike shop to get it changed right then so I could ride the next day. I worked out that I had over 6,000 miles on that tire. (Isn't Kevlar wonderful?)

I went 26 miles, 23 miles, 21 miles…The additional time commitment wasn't great. I could complete the longest rides in under 90 minutes; most days I was only gone for an extra 15 minutes.

On Thanksgiving Day, while everyone else was preparing and eating a holiday feast I was all alone on the bike path (I saw about 6 other cyclists the entire ride) peddling my way to 3,005 miles.

I'd completed 9 consecutive high-mileage days (I didn't dare take a day off in case rain or snow was coming; and I had the good fortune to ride before the rain fell on two of those days). My hands were doing great. In fact I'd never felt stronger. So Friday I took the day off and went to a deli with my friend Marsha!

I'd been lucky in temperature too. While there were some 35-39 degree days in that final few weeks, and some really windy days (more than 30 mph), the final 9 days contained several 40 to 54 degree days. It didn't feel like a slog at all.

Snow fell that Friday. A light snow, but it brought ice. It wasn't until December 1 that I was able to get out on the road again. I didn't know it then, but I only had three more outside rides. Despite pleasant riding conditions none were blow out rides. All were 17 to 20 miles. I resisted any urges to ride longer distances. I knew I wasn't going for 3,500 miles, just as I'd earlier predicted. 

Twenty minutes into one of those 20 mile rides my bicycle computer battery died (but I'd been that way so often I knew the exact mileage). I had to finish my ride the old fashioned way—with a beat, sense memory, and adrenaline. I crushed it. I was filled with joy.

I road 3,060 miles in 2012.

It might not sound like it, but in those two weeks or so, I got my life back, because what I did was ride for the joy of riding, as many miles as I wanted (which just happened to be a lot). I didn't think about my totals. I rode more slowly some days (when it was really windy) without frustration because I wasn't trying to beat the clock, I was just riding.

Last year I'd been bothered by my addictive stance towards bicycling. A mentor had told me to rediscover what it was I loved about cycling in order to bust out of the obsessiveness of my relationship with it. November 2012 was when I did that. 

I still had to use my will. I still had to ride on my gut several days (because of the back issues), but I found a way to listen to myself and push myself at the same time. (Just because you love something and find joy in it doesn't mean there aren't going to be difficult, impossible days. The key is to do it anyway.)

I loved every moment of biking this fall. It wasn't something to tick off, to get done in an hour and go on to something else. It was something I got to savor. It was also something I was gambling on because there was always that promised colder, snowy weather coming.

I've experienced this flip from obsession to joy one other time in my life. That's exactly what happened to me when I was 17 and had been journaling obsessively all my life. I met my mentor Thom and he helped me journal without obsession, purely from a love of expression.

We have to make that flip every day about a host of things. Sometimes there are people in our lives who help us make that flip. Other times we're alone and we have to make that flip alone. It's always nice when you can share that joy with someone and they appreciate it, but for 23 years since Thom's death I've had to make that journaling flip every day for myself. That's life. Everyday you have to live on your will and step in and do it (whatever it is), but there has to be joy in it. 

When people show you how to have joy in your life, take it and run with it. 

And if you find that you're losing the joy from something you've always loved talk to someone you trust about it and find a way to get that joy back. It is absolutely vital.

Just don't go running around the house saying "Feel my thighs," as you poke your now rock hard unflexed quads in invitation. That's just plain obnoxious.

What am I saying?! Yes, do that! Especially if it is just plain obnoxious—because there's a lot of joy in that too.

Reclaim something you love. It's the way back to balance.

A Travel Palette That's On Sale

I was looking through a year-old sale catalog from Cheap Joe's while cleaning yesterday (I know, I know, let's just gloss over that little admission) and found the Cotman Compact Palette on sale for $19.99. (I'm recommending this palette NOT THE PAINT IT CONTAINS, so keep reading.) I wondered what it would cost today, a year later—well it's still on sale for the same price on their website for the holidays. Since it's a holiday sale I don't know how long it will last and wanted to bring it to your attention before the end of the year.

Note: Something is screwy with my cable connection today or with Cheap Joe's site because when I went to get you the EXACT product link the product came up with my search for "Cotman Compact Case" along with a bunch of other products and when I clicked on the item it wouldn't go to the linked item but gave an error. Incidently the picture that came up today also showed it at $14.79! Which is an old price, which probably explains the broken link.

DO NOT GET THE Cotman palette which has "Watercolor Pocket Plus Traveler" in the title. It comes in a Cotman and a Winsor & Newton Artists' version too. It is a smaller palette without the same sturdiness and without the slide out mixing area and thumbhole present in the palette I'm suggesting above. That's why I included the photo so you could see it.

You might have to call Cheap Joe's and ask them for the product number on the phone, so you can check it out on your computer.

Also for some reason Typepad isn't letting me put paragraph breaks in my main text, but I've got to get going so you'll still get the idea, and maybe once it's posted they will magically appear.

You may remember me showing you this palette in the uncropped photo of my travel palettes in my October 22, 2008 post, "Travel Palettes for Watercolor and Gouache."

I've highlighted it in today's image so that you can see the exact palette I'm writing about.

When I first purchased this palette in the 1990s I paid $14.99.

I immediately unwrapped all the paints, tipped out the Cotman cakes (which are a student grade paint and not worth working with) and filled the pans with my own selection of colors from Daniel Smith Watercolor tubes. (Daniel Smith Watercolors have a heavy pigment load and they rewet wonderfully to deliver fully saturated color. You can't say the same about all brands of tube watercolor paint.)

This palette, which I don't carry daily, but do take on all my trips as well as on visits to the zoo and other extended painting trips, has now been with me for probably 15 years. It has been dropped on concrete, tile, and hardwood surfaces. It remains near perfect (the mixing well areas are of course a little more dingy than the first day I used it—but even that plastic has held up remarkably well considering all plastic surfaces stain over time, particularly with the use of staining colors. What you see in the photo is not staining, but actual puddles of pigment.)

I think that's a pretty good investment for $15. Considering that you can't get my favorite square metal box from Schmincke empty any longer (you have to buy it with factory selected pans that you might not be interested in using at a cost that last time I checked was over $100; and since Schmincke pan watercolors are an excellent product you aren't going to want to toss them—though you can add new pans). Even at $19.99 this means the Cotman palette shown above is still a great bargain.

If you don't read my other post (linked above) about the various palettes you'll miss the one drawback of this palette—it only accepts Winsor & Newton pans. No other brand of pan (factory-full of paint or empty) that I've found fits in this box. Since you can easily get the paint out of the pans and put in your own tube color, however, this isn't a problem if you're looking for a palette to use with your tube colors.

I haven't looked at one of these for several years (I bought a spare a few years back when they had crept up in cost to $17) so they may have changed how they wrap the paints, but you should still be able to remove the paint without much effort and have a wonderful new palette for yourself.

But remember, the paint it comes with is not worth trying to use—not even for your kids, just don't frustrate anyone that way.

And don't be confused with the Winsor & Newton version of this palette they used to sell and may still sell. It contained W & N's artist quality pans, but I am not fond of that paint either, and you'd be throwing away a lot more money to get the exact same palette. (They also make a compact box complete with a waterbottle, water cup, and sponge in both a Cotman and Winsor & Newton variety, price being the only difference—though I seem to recall the plastic outer case on one might be blue and the other might be gray. It's a nifty multiple use of molds.)

So if you use tube watercolors and are looking for an affordable compact travel palette to fill and take with you check out this one. All you have to do is throw the paint that comes with it away!

You can of course fill the pans with your tube gouache and have a gouache travel palette. I recommend Schmincke Horadam Gouache or M. Graham Gouache if you are going to squeeze out gouache and let it dry and expect it to rewet well in the field. (Click on the category "gouache" to find out my thoughts on gouache and how I use it; use the blog's search engine for things like "gouache palette"; check out the "Gouache Compendium" page, for links to my favorite posts on gouache.)

Journal Size Matters: Part Three—Getting Out of a Rut

Above: Sketch of Raymond Burr as seen in "Perry Mason" in a 6-1/8 x 9-1/2 inch Fabriano Venezia Journal using a Pentel Aquash Brush Pen with Light Black Ink. Click on the image to view an enlargement.

My notes for part 3 of this series were short and simple: "gets you out of a rut."

What I mean by that is that changing journal sizes will help you get out of visual ruts. When you change your journal size you get to work out the new puzzle of how you will handle the composition of your art on those pages which are a different dimension than your previous journal. Will you go larger, smaller, cross the gutter? Where will you leave space for writing (if you do leave space)? What media will you use and how will the media you select influence your final result? (I write a bit about that in the earlier parts of the series posted this week.)

I kept working with the 6-18 x 9-1/2 inch Fabriano Venezia journal, sketching as much as I could, adapting to the new size. By the time I got around to this sketch of Raymond Burr I'd worked out most of my spacing issues.

I'd worked them out enough to know that now I can use one of these journals (in this size and format) and get what I want done. 

But I also know that using this size journal from Fabriano won't be my first choice. I'll still prefer the 9 x 12 inch version. (I can hardly wait until January 1 to start a new in-studio journal of that size.)

The ten days I spent filling this journal were very instructive, worth every moment of frustration. 

One of the best discoveries from those ten days was the finding the "Perry Mason" reruns. Anyone reading my blog knows I love sketching from the TV. In December I really wanted to work on people portraits and after casually channel flipping into one episode of "Perry Mason" I was hooked—great black and white TV with dramatic lighting and constant close ups of actors, their faces usually pulled or contorted by emotions. The show ran for so long that you also get to see a lot of actors you may know from later work appearing there first.

Journal Size Matters: Part Two—Sketch Something You Really Love

 

Left: First Pentel Pocket Brush Pen sketch in a series of sketches of dogs, while working in a 6-1/8 x 9-1/2 inch Fabriano Venezia Journal (Not my normal 9 x 12 inch Venezia in-studio journal.) Click on the image to view an enlargement.

 

On Monday I wrote about working in a smaller sized Fabriano Venezia Journal than I'm used to working in. 

I know I love working on this paper. I know the tools I'm using on it are ones I also love working with on this paper. 

What bothers me is that gutter— interrupting me when I want to create an image that is head to tail (no dog pun intended, I simply mean a sketch that stretches from the head to the tail of the book). Focal points keep ending up in the gutter. I haven't been able to size my drawings down to fit the smaller space, while still using tools that create bold lines. Of course it's a matter of adjustment.

So what is the best way to adjust?

Draw something you really really love and are comfortable drawing.

For me that is either my rubber-chicken puppet Gert or a dog.

Right: Another Pentel Pocket Brush Pen sketch in the same journal. I worked with my dog park photos for these sketches—projected up on my computer screen. Click on the image to view an enlargement.

As you can see by the series of sketches presented in this post I went with dog sketches. 

I started with a goal—still using the Pentel Pocket Brush Pen because I love that bold line and it feels so nice to use this pen on the paper in the Fabriano Venezia. But an equally important part of my goal in using that pen was to work with scaling my drawings down to fit the format of this journal without getting focal points lost in the gutter.

Left: The third dog sketch in my series to adapt my drawing size to the narrower page. I'm working quickly here, taking less than 10 minutes to sketch. I'm planting my first lines carefully after trying to see where everything will go on the page—something good to do in any situation, but necessary when you don't have any wiggle room. Click on the image to view an enlargement.

 

Left: With all of these sketches I started with the dog's right eye (on the viewer's left). For this sketch I almost landed in the gutter, but it still works for me. Click on the image to view an enlargement.

So far in the sketches I'd been going after as little detail as possible. I wanted to have a sense of the shape of the head but not much fine detail.

Left: Final dog sketch for the evening in this series. I wanted to get some paints out. When the paints were dry I cut out decorative Japanese papers and applied them around the sketch in the background. Click on the image to view an enlargement.

I finished up the dog sketching session by continuing my use of the Pentel Pocket Brush Pen but selecting a dog subject that was more fur than form. I also wanted to add a little color with paint. And once I had done that I wanted to add collaged papers around the dog because I enjoy doing that and because I hadn't done that in this smaller book yet.

That last sketch also starts with the eye on the left. I deliberately put it almost right at the gutter so that I could get some of that furry ear on the left and all of the ear on the right. I was conscious of what types of negative space I was going to leave.

By the time I finished I had sketches which were pointing me towards a working model for this book. That's what I was after. I just needed to explore some more. I'm not totally happy with the space I have to work within on this page spread, but I am adapting. Using a subject I love has helped speed me along towards that adaptation.

Note: I sketch directly in pen. I just like to do that. I like the commitment, and even the "Oh Shit what am I going to do now" factor.

If you sketch in pencil you can of course stop, erase and adjust your drawings, or not erase, but use bolder lines and restatements for a little while longer than you can with ink (which tends to get messy pretty quickly).

If you do sketch in ink directly, or you want to start doing that I've written several posts about direct sketching in pen (including the one linked here) and you can find them using the blog's search engine.

When you do sketch directly in pen be sure to breathe. Remind yourself that it's just paper. Restate a line if you have to and don't allow yourself to be frustrated as everything in that 1-inch of the page turns into blackness. Just remind yourself that you are practicing. And jot down a couple notes about which is the actual line you wanted to use, or notes on how you had to fudge it, or whatever notes you want to take. And keep going with the entire sketch. There may be other points in the sketch that really work, that show you a way forward in all your future sketching. You may have other botched and blotched areas, but that's OK because it already isn't perfect. Keep going.

The point is to remember these are sketches. The fun factor should be high. I can remember how happy I felt working on each one of these sketches, the brush pen gently dragging across the paper, the paints puddling on the last dog, the selection of the papers for the last dog. That's more important than the perfect sketch because I'm energized and ready to have another go, and with that attitude I will get there.

If you set out determined to do the perfect sketch you're going to find something wrong with everything you do. After awhile you might stop picking up that pen. But if you keep your mind clear of those constraints you'll keep picking up that pen and your line will get more sure.

Journal Size Matters

Above: Tombow marker sketch in a 6-1/8 x 9-1/2 inch Fabriano Venezia Journal. I'm having trouble working at the size I usually work at in this book—using some of the tools I typically use. Read more below. Click on the image to view an enlargement.

One of the top five questions I'm asked (typically on a daily basis; and falling right below "What's your favorite paper?") is "What is your favorite journal size?"

I have written a bunch of posts addressing this topic. I laid out what I take into consideration when selecting a journal in "Choosing a Journal Size."

I encouraged people to try a variety of approaches and by examining their experience with each format and explained that they would come to find the journal size and format that best worked for them. (We are all different.)

I wrote about a very satisfying experience using a 12-inch square journal in my studio (it was too large to carry about with me).

It was useful for me to use that journal because at the time I was pushing myself to make some larger paintings.

Journaling Superstition #12: All Your Visual Journals Should Be the Same Size, was my way of addressing the limiting fiction that some new journal keepers are encouraged to believe: that their shelves should contain uniform volumes that stretch on and on; that they should always use one type of paper, one format for all their needs.

I believe that journaling needs to be more expansive than that. Just as the process is not always pretty, your shelves aren't always going to be pretty—but they are going to be filled with your experience of life if you select materials (and journals with paper and size and formatting) that suit and support your needs.

Right: On this journal spread, starting with the eye of the left page I got the size of the head pretty accurately, but the other eye fell right in the gutter. Very unpleasant from a page layout point of view. I had switched to a Faber-Castell Pitt Artist's Brush Pen for this trial sketch, to keep my lines more uniform. Click on the image to view an enlargement.

Sometimes you might have cravings for a certain type of paper or format. I believe you need to select a journal that will support your work. Ask yourself what are you going to be working on in the immediate future and how does your selection of your next journal support that choice? If you're going to be making a bunch of watercolor paintings that are relatively small, selecting a small watercolor journal in which to practice techniques would be ideal. Selecting a paper openly antagonistic to watercolor like a Moleskine sketchbook will leave you frustrated at the end of the day—not really in the mood to do your paintings or even sketch the next day in your journal.

Left: First, yes this person really did have a flat end of his nose—just saying. But here, the space between the eye and ear is too wide, and the forehead seems scrunched instead of tilted back. The gutter is clearly bothering me. If I had been working in one of the large Venezia Journals I could have done this entire portrait on one page and had the shoulder drip off the other page, leaving lots of negative space for journal writing. I used the Faber-Castell Pitt Artist's Calligraphy pen here because I can get a bold line with it, but a thinner range of lines than with the Pentel Pocket Brush Pen. This allows me to scale down and get the detail I want. Click on the image to view an enlargement.

You can also satisfy different journaling needs that you have at any given time by keeping more than one journal. I discuss this in "Keeping More than One Journal at at Time," and also discuss why I usually have a 9 x 12 inch Fabriano Venezia Journal going all the time in addition to whatever I carry with me on a daily basis in this post: "Keeping More than One Journal Simultaneously."

Today I'm revisiting this topic not because my thoughts have changed—I still believe you will find your favorite journal size through experience; I still believe that changing up the paper, size, and format of a journal now and then is a wonderful way to mix it up in your creative life; and I still believe that it's best to keep one journal for carrying always with you, but that you need to be flexible for in-studio work and other needs as they arise.

Instead, I'm returning to this topic because in December I had a wonderfully frustrating experience with journal size that is perfect to share with you.

I love the 9 x 12 inch Fabriano Venezia Journals for in-studio work. They are certainly too large for me to carry around on a regular basis, but when I'm in the studio and want to work I love grabbing it because the large pages afford me lots of space to try different approaches. The paper takes watercolor and gouache well. The books themselves are less expensive to purchase (locally there are often half-price sales and you can find such sales on the internet) than it would be for me to bind a book of that size.

I purchased a 6-1/8 x 9-1/2 inch Fabriano Venezia with the idea I would carry it around with me at some point, since I know I like the paper. However, it sat on the shelf for quite awhile. I really prefer my smaller books to be square and you're about to see why in a moment.

As the end of the year approached I realized that in 20 days I would not be able to finish a 9 x 12 inch journal but I could probably finish a journal with a smaller page size—it just seemed to me that I would work a little smaller but those sketches would be page filling so I would work through the pages more quickly.

I don't have to end my journals (my daily-go-everywhere-with-me and my in-studio journals) by the last day of the year, but I do like it when that happens so I play a little game with myself about that.

So I took that 6-1/8 x 9-1/2 inch Fabriano Venezia and started sketching, doing my late night paintings in it, sketching from the television when I was watching, working out my painting plans, and so on.

Immediately I realized that size matters very much to me, much more so than in the 1990s for instance. I've been using the Pentel Pocket Brush Pen so much, and I've been using it on pages sizes 8 x 10 inches and larger with such frequency that my visual vocabulary with that brush is geared to the large stroke. Even my favorite Faber-Castell Pitt Artist's Calligraphy Pen was selected because I wanted something with a bolder line. I just don't work with fine pens on a small scale as much as I did at other times in my life. (Of course as soon as I write that sentence I realize I have been favoring the Staedtler Pigment Liner .1 on Folio paper all fall. We are all a bundle of contradictions. Just know your contradictions and make sure you have the appropriate pen!)

In the images shown in today's post you'll see that I am having difficulty measuring across the gutter with my drawings. I'm compensating too much and going wide, other times I might go narrow. I start at a point I would typically start on, the eye in a portrait for instance, and build out from there and before you know it, on this smaller page I end up in the gutter.

Now the immediate and obvious remedy is to go with a less bold stroke, a pen that can work more finely. But here's the difficulty, when I do that I have to work with pens that I may love on other papers, but which I don't enjoy on THIS paper.

For me, over time, certain pens take on a life of their own and somewhat dictate what size I am comfortable working in when I'm working with them.

I bring this up today because I have ample examples to share with you and because if you're new to visual journaling you might be frustrating yourself in a way that is easily remedied, simply by changing either the pen you use or the journal you are using.

Note: Another way to deal with the issue of some pens taking on a life of their own and dictating size is to change what you want in a drawing. If you want to work in a very small space with the Pentel Pocket Brush Pen and use the possibility of bold brush strokes then focus on shadow areas, squint more, look for less detail and don't try to capture it. That's good practice too.

Meanwhile, what do you do with the book at hand? Well I've written before that if a journal experience is really awful sometimes the best thing to do is walk away. Call the journal finished, and put it up on the shelf.

But that is an extreme situation, and I prefer in my own practice, and when encouraging others, to suggest that you finish the damn book as quickly as possible. Use every moment you have to test new pens in it, work out diagrams, and sketch and sketch—do your speed sketching warm ups if you have to; anything to get the book paper filled. Think before you start each drawing, work out what your attack plan is going to be, really make use of that paper to learn something, but get the drawing down quickly.

By working quickly but thoughtfully you will keep the problem you have with the paper or the format in the front of your mind. You will be trying to work around that problem, either by a shift of materials used (thereby finding a new favorite journal for certain media) or approach (thereby finding a new favorite journal for specific uses).

For 8 days I worked in that 6-1/8 x 9-1/2 inch Fabriano Venezia. Every time I sat down I picked it up. It helped that it was paper I liked, but it was frustrating that I was having difficulty sizing my sketches to fit that smaller format. I love portrait formats, but the books that I make are larger when portrait, or they contain paper in them on which I work with "finer tools" and so work smaller. (Nideggen is like that for me.)

As you move into the new year and get ready to select new journals for the work you hope to do in 2013 I would like you to consider the points raised in this post, and be encouraged to investigate what it is that appeals to you or doesn't appeal to you in every journal you work on during the year. In this way you'll be in a better position to pick a journal that supports your needs. And when you find yourself in a journal that fights against you, you'll immediately know why, will be able to adapt into testing mode, and get back on course more quickly.

I can't wish you a year full of perfect journals because that would mean wishing you would miss out on all the wonderful (and often frustrating) discoveries the really wretched journals or the almost-but-not-quite journals will hold for you.

I hope, therefore, that throughout the year you come across (or bind) several near perfect journals, but at the same time are challenged by other selections into pushing through your habits and preferences so that you find new expansive ways of expressing yourself visually.

This week I'll share more of my adventures while using this book, because I have a couple more points to make about dealing with page size issues and such—but right now you really should be sketching.

Roz Revisited: Holiday Movies I Love

Above: Frank Morgan in silk p.j.s in Lubitsch's wonderful "Shop Around the Corner." Faber-Castell Pitt Artist's Calligraphy pen in a medium (6 x 9 inch?) Fabriano Venezia journal. Click on the image to view an enlargement.

For today's suggested "re-read" I'm sending you to a post I enjoyed writing so much that I actually turned it into a page—that's right, you can find it any time of the year, easily, by looking in the Pages list in the left column of the blog for "Films for the Holidays."

Every year there are new films to watch during the end of year movie theater holiday season. By all means, go out and watch all that you can.

But if you're at home and have some free moments and are wondering what might be entertaining you've got my list and my reasons why. Don't say I didn't warn you.

And, because I just rewatched it last weekend for the umpteen-millionth time and loved every minute of it, I'm also adding my recommendation that you watch "Shop Around the Corner" staring James Stewart and Margaret Sullavan (and of course the ever wonderful Frank Morgan—who shouldn't only be remembered for the multiplicity of brilliance in "The Wizard of Oz"). 

"Shop" is a sweet little romance which grabs you from moment the ominous chords of "Ochi Tchornya" sound out while the MGM Lion roars. That musical introduction is a hint to not trust the bright, light music which follows. This is more than a romance, it's a movie about perception, commerce, the distribution of wealth and power, the corruptibility of wealth and power, the salvation of self through learning to trust others, and finally (because it is a romance) lessons in how to avoid becoming "psychologically mixed-up" and live an authentic life all while creating a family that matters.A portion of the movie takes place at Christmas, so I think I can include it in the Holiday Films list—though since all my holiday films are really about family it has a place there anyway.

And before you write in and rave about "You've Got Mail" (the Nora Ephron retooling of "The Shop Around the Corner") go watch "Shop" again. I love Ephron's work, but "Mail," despite the great work by the cast is not a classic. "Mail" suffers from the sulphurous odor of unresolved ethical and moral issues relating to personal and big business (and I'm a fan of both). "Mail" has always had an ominious quality that isn't fully worked out for me.

I believe that in the reorganization of her action Efron actually made it impossible to work out her dramatic conflicts. Can a modern woman move past the destruction of her mother's dream book shop and on to something else, just because the something else she moves on to is her "real" calling, if the man she loves is the person who pushed her yet destroyed that dream shop? Ephron is telling us yes, but every time I watch "Mail" the ending falls flat. Wait, perhaps it's the way the protagonists become inappropriately emotionally intimate with each other while each is living with other partners.

I think the most romantic situation would be to own your bad choices, clear the muck out of your life, and then go meet your goals—finding love along the way. But that must not be modern enough. Instead of a bright future for the protagonists I see the seeds of destruction already planted in their relationship. At the very least they'll need some serious counseling. It's still not satisfying as a romantic movie.

Perhaps Ephron's point is that there is no way in the modern world to avoid "becoming psychologically mixed-up." But Lubitsch was wiser than that. 

A Kiss Before You Go—Danny Gregory's New Book

Most people reading this blog will already be familiar with Danny Gregory's books on journaling and creativity: "Everyday Matters," "Creative License," "An Illustrated Journal."

His latest book "A Kiss Before You Go," is a memoir of the year following the death of his wife Patti.

Before I go on with the review I have to come clean about a couple things—Danny is a friend, and I knew Patti through emails and phone conversations. I always thought there was plenty of time to get to New York and meet Patti in person. Two weeks ago, messages from Patti I'd saved on my phone came up again (they seem to do this every 90 days). I'm not a mopey type of person, the messages don't make me sad. They remind me of how fun it was to talk with Patti.

But when the book arrived in the mail I let it sit around for several days, just staring at me from the desk. I had just attended a couple funerals (for a dear friend and for a cousin). I had talked to Danny about his new book, but I still wasn't sure how he was going to go about accomplishing his goals.  

I think to write about the experience of losing a life partner is one of the most courageous things a person can do. It's going to involve some raw emotions, but when done well it will be full of common experience, humor, and heart.

When I did sit down to read "A Kiss" I read it all the way through in one sitting. The book just flows along. In part the eye is led along by Danny's illustrations which are sometimes sentimental (but never maudlin), often humorous, usually self-deprecating, and always visually interesting.

But the book also flows along because the statements it contains are simple, straightforward, and honest—a look into the author's life and thoughts as he picked up the pieces of his life when the old life ended abruptly.

The journal entries contained in this volume are organized by month for the first year without Patti. The account of the accident which took Patti's life and Danny's visit to the hospital are told simply, with his eye for detail and his need to question.

What follows are musings on the loss. Events occur and raise memories. Old habits and patterns of behavior give way to new approaches. Something as potentially mundane as going to the grocery store becomes a way to honor and celebrate the care (and sometimes spoiling) Patti bestowed upon her husband and son.

And there is movement through the grief to the understanding that one can be cracked and broken by the death of a loved one, yet still be fueled by all the love and wisdom that loved one brought into your life.

I guess the best way to describe this book is to say it's a look at the little everyday things and happenings which mean the most to us—which form the fabric of our memory, creating the rich experience we label life.

Because of that I think this book is valuable to read whether or not you have experienced a loss. The book is about valuing experience, the small details of life that make it special and unique. The book is also a testament to someone who made life an adventure for everyone around her.

If you have lost a loved one the specifics of your experience may not match Danny's but the details of his journey dealing with a whole new set of "firsts" and moving on in life while Patti stays forever young, will touch your heart and help you think about the stuff of life and notions of loss in your own life and in our society. Because of, not in spite of, the raw emotions there is hope and comfort in this book.

The book offers a look into the most common of human experiences—loving someone, opening your heart, and accepting the risk and loss. I recommend it as a book to own and to give to the people you love.

Second Snow Pile of the Winter (2012-13)

Above: Page from my current journal which I made with Magnani Pescia (BLUE). It's about 8 inches square. I was out on errands with Dick and didn't have it with me so I borrowed paper and pen from him. See the thin strip at the far right, on the blue paper, which shows how the values needed to be rendered, if I'd had appropriate paper and ink. That's my favorite bit of the entire page. Click on the image to view an enlargement.

I started a new category on the blog today: Snow Piles. I'll try to remember to link the first snow pile of 2012-13 which I posted the other day, there too. But previous years' snow piles will have to be located through keyword search in the blog's search engine.

I think the caption pretty much says all I need to say about the above piece. The small value strip on the right was sketched with a 0.1 Staedtler Pigment Liner which is great fun to use on the Pescia.

Chocolate Tasting and Gouache Adventures

Above: Pentel Aquash Brush Pen with light black ink sketch with gouache in a medium size Fabriano Venezia journal (are they about 6 x 9 inches?). I used a silicone turkey basting brush (long loose tendrils of silicone to dip in the paint—never used for food) to paint the background before I brought the foreground up to finish. Click on the image to view an enlargement.

My friend Linda often asks me along on her adventures. A short while ago she was looking into various gift possibilities for an article she was writing and she had some chocolate tasting to do. Of course she asked me along. 

 

Left: Here's earlier stage of the journal page, when I had just used relatively light washes of gouache on the chocolate, and had put in the background. I didn't like the way the surface of the chocolate was looking, so instead of stopping there as I had intended I went to full paint coverage. (Yes, that's my toe holding the book open as I take a photo. This photo was also taken under bad lighting so there's a color cast to the image, but you get the idea.) Click on the image to view an enlargement.

We went off to the Abdallah factory outlet store in Burnsville. What a trip. As soon as you open the door the smell of chocolate (and other sweets) hits you in the face.

(I would strongly recommend that they get rid of the scented candles and any other scented gift objects because the odor of those perfumed items insults the fine smells of their chocolate. I actually had to skip browsing in one area of the store because the fragrances caused my asthma to kick in. You really don't want to push Roz out of a chocolate store. There's no telling what she'll buy if she's given unlimited time!)

The store contains gift items for baby showers and hospital get-well visits and you name it. There were ornaments everywhere (obviously seasonal) that were delightful (I bought a couple for my friend Diane who puts up such a lovely tree each year.) But the main draw was of course the chocolates.

Left: A detail of the completed painting showing the layers of gouache. Normally I would have used more blue on the underside of the stem, but I just used a tad of cobalt with quin magenta for my shadow and called it a day there as I didn't have a really thin brush to work with on hand. There is no black in this image. If you look at the darkest shadows here you'll see that they are still just made up of Dark Indigo (PB60) and English Red (which I was using on the day instead of burnt sienna). You can see a little bit of the light black ink, which looks gray, from the Aquash pen sketch peeking through in places. Click on the image to view an enlargement. 

As you can read above on the journal page, Linda and I spent a lot of money in the name of testing. (I spent $78 out of which probably $50 was for chocolate and the rest was small gift items, taffy [come on I had to try it] and their caramel corn [which is full of nuts, better than 99 percent of what's out there, but not as good as PLAIN Moose Munch, but you can't PLAIN Moose Munch any more, sigh].)

I didn't enjoy all their chocolates equally. I would not recommend their salted caramels. They were too salty even for me, the queen of salt.

But their chocolate covered toffees are insane. I could eat nothing else for the rest of my life (and I intend to start on that plan in the new year!)

So if you are going, just buy one or two of something to test, you can always come back. (I can also highly recommend their chocolate covered marshmallows and the chocolate covered caramel s'more.) Over all I found their dark chocolate offerings (accept for the marshmallows and toffees) all a bit grainy and bitter. (Remember I don't like coffee either.) Because of that I couldn't eat my dark chocolate haystack (which was ample in size). I am happy to report I had absolutely no difficulty eating my milk chocolate haystack. (Note: Typically with other brands of chocolate I only like dark chocolate with coconut—so you can see where I'm coming from and how this was a bit of a surprise for me.)

It took a while for the staff person to catch on that I was serious she put back one of the cherries because I didn't like its stem. "I'm going to draw them," I explained, and I don't like the line of that stem at all. (I still haven't tasted the cherries and doubt, even though they've been in the fridge, that they are still fresh, but they are still beautiful!)

While you don't get to go into the factory at this store (I didn't really expect that) they have a large flat-screen television up on the wall showing video of chocolate production. There is a glassed-in workroom at one end of the showroom. While we were there two women stood at a stainless steel table with a center well of tempered chocolate and expertly hand dipped long-stemmed cherries. Tray after tray. Mezmerizing.

If you are attracted to sparkly things and just things in general, and of course chocolate—go with a friend who can pull you out at an appointed time, or respond to your use of your "safe word." It's definitely worth the danger.