Overwhelmed by rehearsing, modeling, being ill, and generally rushing headlong from place to place, I bailed on my travel writing class tonight and stayed home. And did nothing on the Super Critical Urgent list. Instead I moved furniture, made and ate a salad, and scribbled this picture based on something I saw done in one of the classes I worked for today.
First the students did a minute-long gesture drawing using colored chalk, then they spent five or ten more minutes doing a contour drawing over the first image. The end result was charming--simple wrinkly-lined drawings with a little color and motion--so I resolved to try it myself at the first opportunity. Which was looking like April, until I decided to stay in tonight.
I think this took about ten minutes, and while it's not exactly deathless art, I felt a lot better after I'd finished it. Rested. I don't understand why I don't draw more frequently. I always enjoy it, even when the finished image disappoints--and that's ten minutes I didn't spend French-kissing the vodka bottle, hm?
