The High Line

I went to the High Line a few weeks ago to spend some time drawing the unique combination of people, city views, and flora. I really don't know of anywhere else where the three come together in quite the same way. I think it's one of the nicest places in the city to spend an afternoon, and judging from the crowds, a lot of people agree with me!

Below the High Line, the new Whitney Museum offers bright green chairs for people to hang out, check their phones, and take a break. It's a pretty stylish crowd.

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And when I saw this crowd of servers from the Whitney's restaurant Untitled having a meeting, I couldn't resist trying to capture the rhythm of their black pants, grey aprons, and red straps.

Happy birthday, Herman Melville!

I was all set to do a post with some people drawings, but then my friend Carly Larsson reminded me that it was Herman Melville's birthday with her drawing of the Seaman's Bethel in New Bedford. I read Moby Dick earlier this year, and since then, my regard for Herman Melville is through the roof. Not just for his brilliance in examining America through the lens of whaling (although, yes!), but for the absolute unique quirkiness of the book and the voice that animates it: thoughtful, philosophical, tender-hearted. I mean, it is really one of a kind, and if it didn't exist, I don't know how one could even imagine it. (If you want to find out more, but maybe don't want to read 700+ pages, check out the Studio 360 show on it.) So, here's to unusual personalities that make astounding art! I've drawn him with the ocean on his mind, dreaming of whales. Happy birthday, Herman Melville!

Millions March Reportage

I started the day a little after 2 at Washington Square Park. The crowd was so massive, it was hard to get any distance on it. I was at the park until 3 or so, and people were still streaming up Fifth Avenue even though the march had started an hour ago.

As people marched around and through the triumphal arch, I wanted to make sure I included the statue of George Washington that stands against the north side of the arch. More on him, later, though.

At Union Square, the festive red and white striped booths of the holiday market made an incongruous backdrop to the protest. I'm not sure what the shopping tourists made of the protest, but I saw plenty of onlookers taking photos. The march took place on the same day as SantaCon, and I saw at least one Santa taking part.

There were a *lot* of cops lining the route of the march. These three were pretty jolly considering the chants marchers were directing their way. I guess I'd rather they be indulgent than aggressive, but their confident, even arrogant, body language said it all.

The march ended near Foley Square in front of police headquarters. The police had set up a dead end, so everyone was packed into a really tiny space. There was a constant stream of people moving in and out of the plaza as people were deciding to go home, to stay and protest some more, or to march to the Brooklyn Bridge.

At the bottom of the page there is a quote from George Washington inscribed on the pediment of the New York State Supreme Court Building in Foley Square, which I saw as I was leaving the march: "The true administration of justice is the firmest pillar of good government." To me, it was a perfect summary of the point of the march, and since I'd started with a drawing of George Washington, it seemed apt to end with him as well.

If you want to see more reportage of the march, check out my friend Alex Charner's powerful work on his blog.

Eric Garner Protest Reportage

I went out to Foley Square last night with Carly Larsson, Evan Turk, and Chris Brody to reportage the protest surrounding the decision not to indict the police officer responsible for the death of Eric Garner. The first thing I noticed was how many people came out. I've seen estimates in the thousands, and that's just at Foley Square (here's a photo from above from Gothamist). It was heartening to see so many New Yorkers come out to protest, and I was especially glad to see how diverse the crowd was. Especially at the beginning of the protest, many of the protesters were very young, possibly college or even high school students.



Unlike the Occupy protest, some people had amplification, although to communicate with the whole crowd, the human microphone was in full effect.



The protest moved down to the entrance to the Brooklyn Bridge (which is only a few blocks from Foley Square). Since I was hanging back a bit from the main protest group to draw, the cops formed their line right in front of me. They made an intimidating barrier. Their commanding officer was telling them "shoulder to shoulder!" as they lined up.



Since the protesters were denied access to the bridge, they started marching back to Foley Square. A lot of people carried signs saying "Black lives matter" and "End police brutality," but I found these paper cutouts really haunting. Each one had the name of a black man killed by the police: Sean Bell, Mike Brown, and Eric Garner, among others.



The protest left Foley Square so quickly, I actually lost them for a bit. I found them again down on Canal Street, at the entrance to the Holland Tunnel. The protesters had moved to try to block the tunnel, but again had been turned back by the police. If I was intimidated by the uniforms and the numbers at Foley Square, it's nothing compared to how I felt seeing riot helmets and batons.



After that, the protest moved on without me. I went down there feeling pretty down about the state of our democracy, but going home I felt buoyed by the turnout of so many people who care about what goes on. I don't know if there are more protests planned, but if you're upset, even just a little, by police brutality and the lack of accountability, I encourage you to go and see or participate.

24th Annual Tompkins Square Halloween Dog Parade

I went to the Halloween Dog Parade in the Tompkins Square Park Dog Run yesterday to check out all the adorable dogs in costumes. I should have guessed when I saw that they've been doing it for 24 (!) years that it would be crazy, but I was completely overwhelmed by the crush of people and dogs.

Of course, since it's New York City, most of the dogs were pretty small. There were many, many chihuahuas. There was only one little ram, but he was so cute, I drew him from a few different angles, until Mr. Bumblebee there got in the way.


I loved this dog's costume because it was so understated. The guy clearly had to go out and buy some dog shoes, but the rest of it was just kids clothes and beats headphones. And he looked great!

Again, this golden retriever's costume was simple, but made great use of a transparent cone. Bonus points for involving booze.

Disney princesses and Pixar characters were popular.




Of course, superheroes are perennial favorites.
These two were having some kind of conversation.


Wonder Woman, from the back, and taking a load off.

A few miscellaneous ones. What is this first one? A handsome fellow with a leather jacket and a white scarf. Anyone out there have any ideas?


A lot of people dressed up with their dogs, and this seemed to be one way to get into the honorable mentions or to show or place. The other way was to build a whole set for your dog(s). Gomez and Morticia Addams were there, with Thing perched on Gomez's shoulder. You could barely see their dog under his long wig and hat because he was Cousin It.

This Princess Leia and Jedi had built a whole Ewok village for their little Ewok.


Another dog you could barely see under her costume: a blue dress and blonde wig. The give away were the dragons perched on her (and the big dragon carrying her). Khaleesi!

There was another Khaleesi there with Khal Drogo, carried by one of his bloodriders. Unfortunately, I couldn't get around to the other side, so you only get the bloodrider holding his little Khal Drogo.



This one was the runner up, and I have to say, I thought it was one of the best. Full makeup, props, and a lot of skulls.

The winner was the Titanic complete with, well, the Titanic! Three dogs dressed to the nines pushed by a very proud captain.

I had my personal favorites, though. I think Barking Bad was pretty genius. The big dog was the RV and the little dog was Walter White. Their human was dressed in the yellow hoodie, so I guess he was Jesse Pinkman.

This couple went all out also. They were dressed as mushrooms and were carting their little caterpillar around in a little garden. When it came time for their presentation to the judges, the caterpillar transformed into a butterfly!

And there was even a sneaky cat (!!) disguised as, guess what? A dog!

And, last but in no way least, a little Yorkie chia pet. The owner told me that his wife and her mother had made the costume themselves. I love a DIY costume!

Mostly, I was impressed by how patient all the dogs were. They don't care about dressing up, or winning a contest. They just want to make us happy. And if we tell them they have to put on something uncomfortable, or perch on a toy horse (I missed that one, but he was there), they're willing to do it for us. I mean, look at how happy this
dog is:

If you can't get enough dogs in costume, go check out my friend Carly Larsson's hilarious blogpost on the Fort Greene Great PUPkin Dog Costume Contest.

Line, Mark, Color

A few posts ago, I shared a drawing from an exercise where we had to separate line from marks from color. Towards the end of that afternoon, we got to loosen up the strict guidelines. So here is a quick study of the Crystal Palace, where I happily reunited color, marks, and line. Felt good to let them all get together again!

Nick Cave's Heard NY Part 2

As promised, I'm back to share the rest of my drawings of Nick Cave's enchanting piece, Heard NY. (Scroll down to see part 1.)

After stepping into the bottom half of their costumes (think colorful, layered hula skirts), one of each pair of dancers puts on the head of the horse, also covered in raffia.



The music begins with a dreamlike harp, and a playful, bell-like percussion instrument. The live musicians add so much excitement to the piece, I can't imagine the piece with recorded music.



The horses, newly awakened, sniff and nose each other, and playfully prance and high-step around. They notice the audience and come over to greet curious onlookers nose-to-nose.



Suddenly, a drum sounds. The dancers break apart and sway, shake, and shimmy. The raffia of their costumes make them look like friendly, magic muppets.



And just as suddenly, the drum fades and the harp re-emerges, and the horses reassemble themselves.

I had a professor in college who said that the ancients thought inbetween spaces and states were tricky. Places like crossroads—and train terminals, if they'd had them—could be unpredictable, and wise travelers sought the protection of Hermes to see them through the dangerous crossing. You would leave a trusted space like your home to go to some other known place, but until you arrived there, you were in a space unknown, a space where anything could happen. Nick Cave's piece really reminded me of that idea. At the crossroads, leaving the familiar and the known, we step into a magical place—perhaps unpredictable, but also beautiful and joyous. If you haven't already seen it, it's performed twice a day through Sunday, so definitely go see it!

Nick Cave's Heard NY Part 1

I went to Grand Central Terminal this morning to see Nick Cave's art/performance piece Heard NY. The first time I heard of him was back in 2011 when Mary Boone showed his Soundsuits in Chelsea. I clearly remember feeling that it was one of the highlights of the year for me. Every day this week, twice a day, his magical "heard" of horses are brought to life by Ailey students (of Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater) to parade, frolic, dance, and enchant the crowd of Grand Central Station commuters (and some New Yorkers in the know). There is a live harpist and drummer, and the effect of everything together is rousing.

I didn't get there early enough to beat the crowd–but drawing the crowd is part of the point! I only have a couple of drawings to share today, but I'll be posting at least a couple more once I have a chance to go back and finish them!


The horse suits waiting for the performers to imbue them with life. Even uninhabited, they project a lifelike presence, without being in the least tied to reality. That's what I love about art: how something can be completely untethered to reality, but feel so true. It's better than real!


The dancers becoming the "heard." Even though you see the transformation happen before your eyes—and you can see that it's as banal as tying on a skirt—it still seems magical once the suit is on.

Part 2 will be coming later in the week, as soon as I've been able to see the performance again. If you're in town, don't miss it! If you can't catch it, I'm posting a youtube video that will perhaps console you.

Time for Friends

The Dalvero Academy has featured a drawing I made of a crit in progress on their homepage and it made me think of sharing a few more of the many, many drawings I've made of my friends and classmates over the years. I like being able to draw the same people over a long time. Each time I draw them, I know them a little better and hopefully am able to get a little closer to who they are.

Occupy Wall Street

The Occupy Wall Street protest in Liberty Square isn't far from where I live, so I took some time last Thursday to go down and see for myself what was going on. For the most part, I'm going to leave the discussion of the protest and its agenda for other forums. I'm all for people exercising democratic rights at all times, no matter what their message and that's all I'll say about that. As a reportage artist, I love to draw a protest, although it's not something I often do. People that are passionate, that are committed to what they're doing are interesting, and interesting to draw. They want to talk, to communicate, and that's something I understand.




One of the first things I noticed was the number of very fancy cameras around. The protest isn't really getting too much press, so I can only assume these are just people who came out to take pictures.



Here's someone taking a picture with their iPad. The guy didn't feel like a protester either (although statistically, the 99% does cast a wide net).


I'm not sure what to think about the high-end video cameras.


Here's a protester whose opinion is pretty clear.


And it wasn't all young people (although there did seem to be a lot of students). Here's a member of the Granny Peace Brigade.


And who's this fellow in his striped button-down, tie, and suit slacks? Possibly a Wall Streeter on his smoke break?


The protesters are prohibited from having any amplification system, so they've worked out a way to communicate without one. Someone in the center would make an announcement, just a few words at a time, and the message would be repeated by anyone who heard it in a rhythmic singsong that would ripple out towards the edges. It was interesting, if not always perfectly effective.


If you agreed with the point being made, you could put up your hands and wiggle your fingers. Jazz hands, everybody!


And no protest reportage is complete, in my opinion, without the cops. I know they've behaved abominably at times, and have now been accused of luring people onto the Brooklyn Bridge roadway only to arrest them. While I was there, though, the cops were standing around the perimeter of the square, making sure traffic wasn't obstructed, being pretty unobtrusive.



Let's hear it for democracy in action!

Gasworks Park

Last month, I took a trip with the Dalvero Academy to Seattle and San Francisco. I'm just starting to go through those drawings now, and I just knew the first thing I had to share was my favorite place in Seattle, Gasworks Park. As some of you may have seen in past posts (like here) I love drawing big, dirty machinery. Basically, if it's industrial, I love to draw it - bonus points if it's old. Gasworks Park is the site of a coal gasification plant that closed down in 1956. Then the city of Seattle bought it and said, "So what if tar still occasionally oozes from the ground? Let's make it a park!" And so they did, and it's awesome!



Frisbee-players and bike riders frolic amongst the hulking machinery of a past era. (Click on the drawing to see it larger)


They even built a kite-flying hill. I love Seattle!


I might post some other studies of Gasworks Park another time. In the meantime, check out my friends here and here to see some of their Seattle drawings!

Trees

Before I came to New York for the first time, I imagined it was full of skyscrapers and cars and roads, huge sidewalks crowded with people, but I never thought about trees. Truth is, there are so many trees around New York — giant plane trees, maples, and magnolias — almost every street is lined with them. On top of that, they are great to draw. Their limbs move every which way as they grow, but they're standing still, giving you all the time in the world to draw them!

It's been a rainy spring here in New York, which is not so much fun for people, but makes the trees very happy. So here's a little grouping of drawings: trees making their way from bare winter limbs to budding spring greenery. Happy spring!







For the locals, here's a handy New York City tree guide, if you're interested. And, training to become a citizen pruner!

Roomful of Teeth with William Brittelle, Caleb Burhans and Merrill Garbus

Saturday night, I went to the Ecstatic Music Festival with my friend Julia to see the vocal ensemble Roomful of Teeth singing compositions by William Brittelle, Caleb Burhans, and Merrill Garbus of tUnE-yArDs. Roomful of Teeth filled the hall with throat singing, exhalations, yodeling, and more. This drawing was made over two of William Brittelle's compositions "High Done No Why To" and "Done No Why Say Do." Sometimes, their voices would hover in the air, melting all together into something striking and beautiful.



Merrill Garbus of tUnE-yArDs joined Roomful of Teeth onstage for the second half on the concert to play several compositions. I've heard a song or two from tUnE-yArDs from the first album, but the concert converted me into a fan. Garbus has a warm stage presence, and even invited people to get up and dance if they felt like it.



And here's Caleb Burhans playing his super cool violin. At least I think it was a violin. He joined Roomful of Teeth and Merrill Garbus for a few songs. This one was very moving, as you can probably tell from the title "why must you leave me now, when you're so far away?"



Last but not least is a drawing of Garbus and the ladies of Roomful of Teeth performing one of my favorite pieces of the night. Garbus cited the music of West Africa as her inspiration, and dedicated the song to the women of West Africa. The sound of the drum, her ukulele, and the swooping, yodeling voices of the women combined to create something kind of magical and joyous.




Be sure to check out Julia's beautiful drawings and her write-up here and special big ups to Judd Greenstein, the curator of the festival, for the tickets. You can see my other drawings from the Ecstatic Music Festival here.

The Road

As some of you may know, I'm an avid reader. Sometimes as an exercise (and because doing book covers would be the dream job), I put together a book cover for a book that I really enjoyed. I read Cormac McCarthy's _The Road_ about a year ago, and was struck by McCarthy's barren, ash-colored landscape. I couldn't picture any images from this book in color—only charcoal or graphite—the simplest, barest tools for this story set in the aftermath of the apocalypse.


Montmartre

Montmartre is one of my favorite neighborhoods of Paris. Since it's on the outskirts of Paris, it managed to escape the attentions of Baron Haussman, the Robert Moses of the 19th century, responsible for the homogeneity of many arrondissements. Montmartre became the refuge of those possessing a more down at heels aesthetic than those of the buttoned up, if grand, boulevards. It still retains the pre-Napoleonic charm of winding, cobblestone streets with their rich, mismatched jumble of buildings that lean against each other in long-established camaraderie. It's a tiny neighborhood, but all the streets are so twisty and hilly with surprises (a vineyard!) around so many corners, that you can easily spend a whole day exploring it.




This is the parenthetically aforementioned vineyard. Sadly, it wasn't open the day I visited, so I had to draw it from behind the fence. It looked like a little Rackham cottage up on a hill. I think I might have to make it into a wine label at some point, though, to appease the literalist in me.



I didn't get to finish this drawing of Sacre Coeur, glowing in the light of the late afternoon, but maybe I like it better this way? It seems to slowly grow out of the cloudy page (or screen), and in a moment, the mist will obscure it again and it will just be a memory of Paris.



Also, you can check out my friend and fellow Dalverian Julia's drawings of Montmartre.

J'Adore Paris!

I just got back from a drawing trip in the City of Light (I say "just," but I guess it's been a couple of weeks already). I've started to look at the drawings I made there and thought this one would make a perfect introduction. It expresses the way I feel in Paris — not a self-portrait, but a kind of portrait of my feeling when I'm there, sitting in the Tuileries or drifting down the street.

Look and Listen Festival

This past weekend, I went the Look and Listen Festival to see and hear! The stated mission of the festival is to allow audiences to "simultaneously experience a stimulating visual environment for new music and a vibrant aural context for contemporary visual art. " That sounds about perfect for me, since everything I experience wants to come out of my hands as drawings. It was a varied program and first up was So Percussion, a group I had heard back in March at Carnegie Hall (You can see some of my iphone drawings of that performance in my friend Julia's blog) playing a piece by John Cage called "but what about the sound of crumpling paper." I could only see a couple members of the group, but here is Jason Treuting scribbling on paper during the piece.

The inspiration for the colors and shapes that surround him came from the paintings in the gallery by Beatrice Mandelman. They seemed to go perfectly with Cage's composition, with their playful and surprising swoops and blocks of color. The piece had a lot of quiet spaces, punctuated by the sounds of scribbling, or crumpling paper (for instance) and it's true what I wrote at the bottom of the drawing that sometimes I was afraid to make a mark because I felt shy about the sound it would make.
Between musical pieces, journalist Lara Pellegrini interviewed the gallery owner, Gary Snyder, who gave us some background on Beatrice Mandelman. I loved the paintings, and if you're in the neighborhood (26th and 8th Ave), you should definitely check it out.


Next, Phyllis Chen played three pieces on the toy piano, and if you think that sounds cutesy, then just check out the drawing I made of her while she played:

"Intense!" is what I wrote there on the side, and she and the pieces she played definitely are. While you might think the sound of the toy piano is sweet and tinkly, Chen's approach is more like an attack and she really fights that sweetness to create some surprising and stirring music. She debuted a piece by Karlheinz Essl, here where she reaches into the piano to stir the strings. A microphone inside the piano fed the sound into a computer which gave it back as an echo, a reverberation, a memory?


Here's the composer, Karlheinz Essl as he was being interviewed about the piece.

The choral group Meridionalis gave their debut performance. Their focus is ecclesiastical music from the colonial period of Latin America. Hopefully the drawing gives you an idea; it was just beautiful. They were all holding their music books, but I loved how gracefully they all held their hands. I think it was the sublime music directing their body language.

Later in the evening, the conductor of the ensemble, Sebastian Zubieta, was interviewed. Every sentence was accompanied by a flowing gesture, as if he were still conducting.


After the intermission, Jason Treuting of So Percussion played a piece called "The King of Denmark" which was one of the quietest pieces of the night. The program notes tell me that the composer, Morton Feldman, wrote it to only employ the performer's hands, fingers or arms as opposed to sticks or mallets. And the delicate gestures of the musician's hands were what I noticed most of all in this piece, which is why it's mostly hands.

And cropped and cleaned up to emphasize the hands.


The only drawing I didn't get to finish was for one of my favorite pieces of the night, So Percussion playing "an imaginary city," composed by Jason Treuting (below, during his interview) as a site specific work for the train stations of Brattleboro and Bellows Falls, VT. The piece was perfect, but I could wish it longer so I'd have time to finish the drawing!