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from a cold winter walk.
It’s been a few weeks since I posted a sketch. In fact, it’s been a few weeks since I painted or sketched anything of any worth. That’s what happens when a beloved family member, even one who is a hundred and one years old, falls into a three week decline leading to their passing. Grief
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of a hundred little bugs.
Did I mention that I have a biology degree? It factors into this post, so it’s worth mentioning now. Bachelor of Science with a specialization in molecular genetics and minor in entomology, convocation 1999. I can’t say that I’ve used it much in my career, though having it has opened numerous doors. And occasionally it
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from the big city.
I alluded in my previous post that November had us primed for some travel afar and away, and in as much I had picked up a new sketchbook for that specific purpose. Over the recent long weekend, the family and I flew across the continent from our frozen little Canadian city, to the big city,
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looking across the river.
Breaking in a new sketchbook is a daunting moment. It’s not as if they are outrageously expensive, but after investing thirty bucks into a new Moleskine watercolour folio, peeling the plastic cover off, and quietly considering how great it was going to look full of lovely urban sketches, I couldn’t help but hesitate to put
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of nature studies and pinecones.
Autumn arrived like an express train, passing between the trees with a gust of chilly wind and leaving behind a noticeable change in the mood. The leaves changed colour with its arrival, folding from a mature, ripe green hue to patterns of orange and red and yellow and brown. These are colours to which I