The Knight

Back in the summer of 1981, I went to see John Boorman's movie "Excalibur" with a group of art school friends. It was a retelling of the King Arthur stories based on Sir Thomas Mallory's Le Morte D'Arthur. It was a good adaptation, of the original work, treated as high fantasy rather than history, but unlike many more sanitized versions of the King Arthur stories, heavy on the sex, grit and brutality of the age.
I was an impressionable college student, and boy did that movie make a huge impression on me, especially the amazing armor designed and built by armorer Terry English. His armor looked organic, heavy, dangerous. I was so impressed, that I decided to make my own suit of armor. 

Let me point out that I had no idea what I was doing, but that didn't stop me. I did book research (this was before the internet and Google) and lots of sketches of different armor pieces and how I thought they should work.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Next I scavenged the raw materials i would need. I didn't have much money, so mostly I made it from  bits and pieces found in dumos, thrift shops, and my parent's garage and basement: leather and buckles from old belts, lightweight sheets of steel and aluminum flashing, even parts of a dishwasher drum for the helmet. Fortunately, my father was a avid tinkerer, and had a well-equiped basement workshop including several high-speed grinders, a drill press, atap and die set, and heavy-duty vices.

My parents didn't know quite what to make of my project, and my dad was very protective of his tools, but for the most part, they left me to my own devices. 

Using a a method of trial and error, and over 500 pop rivets, afetr three months of labor, I had a workable, wearable suit of armor. 

I also made a spear, (repurposing a metal edger) a dagger and sheath (flat bar stock ground to shape), two swords with scabbards(blades made from the leaf springs of a truck, ground and reshaped) a large metal shield (sheet metal over plywood) and a black linen surcoat embroidered with a red dragon.

The first time I wore it, I discovered that armor is not comfortable to wear.  Even in cold weather, you sweat like crazy, but it looked and sounded great. I wore it to many costume parties and other events.
It even appeared in a student film I made while at MassArt.

I  lost the suit in the process of getting divorced,  (the ex-wife donated pieces of it to a renaissance festival, and the rest was discarded). The only thing I had left of the armor after the divorce, was one single, grainy snapshot taken by my sister over the Thanksgiving break. I decided to do a watercolor painting based on that snapshot. 

Here I am in all of my armor-ey splendor, circa 1981.

Plein Air Painting at Cogswell's Grant

Historic New England recently held a plein air event at Cogswell's Grant, a beautiful 18th-century farm in Essex, Massachusetts. I like plein air painting, but have done very little of it in my life, as it seems to require specialized equipment and a level of dedication that I don't possess.
However, my friend Kerrie, who in spite of having three young kids, has that kind of dedication in spades, invited me to go paint with her at this event.
Nothing works quite like a personal invitation, but what to bring? Searching around my art supplies, it found an old 8.5" x 5.75" wooden cigar box with a sliding lid. I already had a sealable plastic palette of gouache paint, and a 5" x 7" pad of watercolor paper (which just fit neatly inside the box ). I added some metal clips, a mechanical pencil, and a couple of water reservoir brushes, I grabbed a folding camp chair and headed off,  ready to paint outdoors for the first time in years. 

It was a beautiful day, the artists who were already there were spread out around the property, there were no bugs, little wind, and the company was good. Most of the artists there were using French easels and some even had luggage totes full of their paints, canvas panels, etc. 

After seeing the elaborate set ups, I felt a little self conscious about my little impromptu paint box, "MacGyvered" out of what I had on hand.

 

 The open cigar box with the pad on top

 

 

 

The cigar box contents, watercolor pad is clipped to the lid 

 

My friend Kerrie   

 

 

                                

Me

 

  

 

The view

Art in the box

 

 

The final artwork

We painted for about 2 hours. The cigar box set up actually worked quite well, and it is small and portabel enough that I can take it almost anywhere. I'm hoping to do more plein air painting over the summer. All in all, it was a very relaxing and satisfying experience.

Mermaid Doodles

A couple of mermaid-related doodles in pen & ink and watercolor.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Art Journal Evolution

 I have kept a sketchbook/journal, since I was in High School.  Over the years, the format of these books has evolved. Here is a record of that evolution.

Large bound sketchbook

Hard-bound 8.5" x 11" sketchbook with fancy cover

 

Typical spread in a large , college journal

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My first regular sketch journal was a large, 8.5" x 11", hardcover-bound book. Rather than just the drawings that would fill my regular sketchbooks,  I would fill the journal with my written ideas, notes, scribbles, poems, musings, clippings, photos, rough sketches, and color studies.

I kept one handy all through high school and college.
They were largely private, never shared with strangers, rarely shared with anyone else, even friends, except in small, select peeks.  This was because the contents were often, raw, unfiltered, autobiographical. That was the point, a kind of incubator for ideas, not a display for public consumption and judgement. However, being large, and visible, and possibly because they were restricted, they were always objects of intense curiosity and interest. 

For that reason, after college, I switched to a smaller, pocket-sized, format. 

Fat Lil' Pocket Notebooks.

Fat Lil' Pocket Notebooks were delightfully chunky

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I first gravitated towards Mead, 5-star brand, Fat, Lil', Pocket Notebooks I found at the local Five & Dime. They were cheap, spiral bound, and at about 3.5" x 5.5", 200 pages, almost square, with a nice heft.  A lot of friends asked me why don;t you just buy a Moleskin sketchbook and use that?  Moleskins were not exactly cheap, and always felt a little pretentious, like they were made to be the "official" artists sketchbook. I wanted something that felt more like me, and would not inhibit me, by making me worry about how expensive the paper was, or creating a sense of expectations. Like even your ideas had to be good enough to be worthy of a Moleskin. The Lil' Pocket notebooks were delightfully common and low-grade,  containing pulpy, ruled paper.  You could put the stupidest, most outlandish ideas on that paper, and not feel guilty at all.  I drew in ballpoint or Micron ink pen. If I was going to draw something more elaborately,  I would sometimes draw on yellow sticky notes and then paste them into the pages of the notebook.

I would fill them fairly rapidly, about one every two months or so.

Over time, it turned out that the paper, really was a little too crappy, and started to yellow after only a few years, so I started looking for something just a bit better in quality.

Carolina Pad

Carolina Pads, cheap, lined paper

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

One day I was visiting Bob Slate Stationers, in Cambridge, MA, and I found a little, leather-bound memo pad holder that took a standard Carolina Pad, 2.5" x 4" 50-sheet pads. That was the standard for years. But I grew tired of working on lined paper, and the unlined paper was usually of an inferior grade, plus the nice leather holder completely disintegrated...so back to the drawing board. (so to speak).

Caliber Scratch Pad

A one quarter pad, roughly 4" x 2.75" 100 pages

Next, I started making my own pads. I would buy a Caliber, 4" x 6", 200 Sheet, scratch pad pad of unlined, plain-white, decent-quality paper, and would cut it roughly in half, making (4) 4" x 2.75" pads. The paper was thick enough to take watercolors, colored pencil, acrylic, and even some marker, ( if I put a piece of paper underneath to keep it from soaking through).

I would back them with cardboard, and sew the sheets together by hand. I also took some scrap leather, and made what I call the "Frankenpad". A custom-made, brown- leather pad holder. I carried this for years, until it too fell apart.

A half pad, 3.5" x 4", 200 pages

I also got tired of the small, and rather cramped drawing space.
I have always had tiny handwriting, and really like drawing and painting tiny things, but I wanted more space, and the hand-made pads were, rather time-consuming to make, so next came the 3.5" x 4", chunky, 200 sheet, Half pad.

 

A full pad, 4" x 6" 200 pages.

More space meant more elaborate art

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Finally, with the year long Covid-19 pandemic upon us, the need for a pocket-sized pad diminished. No one was going to see me out sketching anywhere anyway, so what was the point? I just went with the full  4" x 6" pad.

Back to the large bound sketchbook

Back to the future with the large 8.5" x 11" format

In June of last year I started working on an outline for a graphic novel. I found that the complexity of the frames and the need for readable dialogue, meant that smaller pads no longer cut it, so I changed format again, returning to the original, large, bound-sketchbook once again. Everything eventually comes full-circle I guess.

So...who cares?
Other than my graphic design work, these journals and sketchbooks represent the bulk of whatever my final artistic output will be. I have only ever been an occasional painter, and I lack the discipline and focus to ever have been either a successful illustrator, or a full-time painter. (My attention span is too short). But I have always, always kept a sketchbook. So this is it. My great, or not-so-great legacy. Tiny sketchbook after tiny sketchbook, packed full of tiny drawings, and crazy ideas, and a little bit of who I am, and how I think. 

Maybe they'll end up in a landfill somewhere. Maybe they'll be "discovered" long after I am dead, and end up in a museum. Who knows. Probably landfill.

Neptune & Salacia - Old Salt and Mermaid

A quick sketch comparing the mythological figures of the Roman god Neptune and his wife the goddess Salacia, with a more contemporary version of an old salt sea captain, and a mermaid.

Summer Camp

Trapped at home during the Covid19 pandemic, I find myself wishing for places and things that are not currently available, or perhaps never were. One of these things is spending the summer at a private camp on a freshwater lake, and skinny-dipping at night with a friend.

Robot Dream , Part 2

Late one afternoon while I was out hunting vermin, one of the biggest, most intact, still-standing robots began to move. It was one of the big, black ones. They were different from the type I lived in the head of. There were fewer of them for one thing. Slightly larger, with a heavier build, and a lot more sinister looking. This one didn’t move a lot, but it moved enough to dislodge a section of a destroyed skyscraper, which crashed down on my home, and crushed it flat. I was fortunate to not be inside it at the time, but losing my home left me short of supplies and vulnerable to the nighttime ministrations of the rats.
I had sometimes caught a glimpse of light from the ruins of the robot my robot head had been detached from.  That indicated a possible tenant. Hopefully a friendly one. Although risky, I made a beeline for the body.

When I arrived there, I found no easy access. The robot was standing, having shut down when the head (my home) had been knocked or blasted off in whatever conflict produced the ruined city and the giant, dead robots.  It loomed above me. There was a lot of rust. Whatever markings had once been on it were faded to the point of illegibility. I could see the breached access hatch on the torso of the robot. I had to search around for a bit for the maintenance handholds which were recessed into the front and sides of the robot at fairly regular intervals.
I was going to have to climb up 40 or 50 feet to reach the breach in the robots outer skin. It was no easy climb. The maintenance handholds alternated between recesses cut into the robots skin, and metal rungs which stuck out from it. Some were missing or torn off, and others were so rusted- looking that I feared they would break under my weight.

Robot Dream

I dreamt I was living in the ruins of an enormous city. It sat on a huge flat plain, and the ruins stretched as far as the eye could see. The buildings looked like they had once been tall towers and skyscrapers of glass and steel, but now were just empty hulks of rusting metal.

Standing among the ruins were giant figures , more than a hundred feet tall. They were the remains of the giant robots, the last fighters in the war that destroyed the city. Some were lying flat on the ground, in pieces, but some were still standing. Rusted, looming figures.

In the dream I was living in the severed head of one of these metal giants. It lay on its side partly embedded in the earth, surrounded by broken bits of concrete and rebar. The severed wires and conduits and shafts that had connected it to its body dangled from the stump of it’s neck. I had emptied the head of whatever equipment it had contained, which was now strewn about the head in rusting piles. I had knocked out the robots left eye, and that was my access into the interior. I had to crawl to get inside. A curtain of some dirty red cloth served as a door.

The robot body that the head had been severed, blasted or knocked from, was still standing some quarter mile away behind a low cluster of smashed buildings.

I lived the existence of a solitary scavenger. Hunting small animals like rats, and exploring the ruins looking for anything that might be edible or useful. The rats were particularly large and aggressive, and although easily dispatched as individuals, could, in a group, spell trouble for anyone caught out in the open, especially after dark.

Killer Robots

Nightsky

Longing for the ability to travel, but unable to in this time of pandemic, led to the genesis of this image. I call it "Nightsky". It is a 4" x 6" pen-and-ink and watercolor.

Love In the Time of Covid19

A pen-and-ink-and-watercolor sketch of a young couple I saw a few days ago, heading out of the building next door. They had the unmistakable look of two people on a date. Love conquers all I guess.

Salem Sea Captain and Wife , 1830

A 4" x 6" pen and ink and watercolor of a couple of characters from a story idea I am working on.

Laborare est orare

With the encroachment of the Coronavirus, our church decided to hold it's first ever "virtual" church service this last Sunday (March 15). I usually doodle in a small notebook during the sermon, but being at home and watching via YouTube gave me the opportunity to actually paint during the entire service. It's watercolor on watercolor paper. This art is driven mostly by anxiety, but also by the sermon, which talked about Jesus being the vine, and all of us Christians, the branches growing from that vine.

Small Watercolor

A small (4" x 3.5") watercolor done on my vacation in Maine. It's a species of wildflower called a Bunchberry, (which sounds like a type of breakfast cereal).

Recent Doodles

I always carry around a small bound sketchbook with me wherever I go. It is small, about 3.25" x 4", small enough to actually fit in my pocket. I work in pencil, pen&ink and watercolor. I draw whatever interests me, sometimes from direct observation , sometimes from inside my head, sometimes from magazines. Anyway, here are some samplings from the last couple of months.

Summer Work: Grave Dancing

I recently attended an intimate dinner theater event, where a friend of mine, Andrew Borne, read some of his poetry. He wrote this poem after reading a lot of Charles Simic’s poems. Simic writes in a very surreal but simple way and he wanted to do something similar. His poem is about finding flowers blooming in everyday events or experiences. Here is the poem:

Blooms have been coming up everywhere

A bed of tulips is rising from the spokes of my bicycle

A field of clovers is emerging from the roof top of my apartment

Several water lilies sit between the bubbles in the baby’s bath water

The hair of my 3 children has turned to pear blossoms

The petals fly from their heads like snow

As they dance in the wind

The backyard grill has sprouted a lilac bush

The aroma has taken over the entire neighborhood

The lavender clusters cover the hot coals

A father’s coffin is pushed open from the force

Of a large magnolia tree in full bloom

As the mourner’s hearts erupt with sorrow, joy

A cross on Golgotha has grown rose buds

The first one is opening from the soldier’s spear wound

The Convict relinquishes His Spirit, a new fruit

The imagery spoke of life growing from unexpected places, including the grave, and one passage really inspired me;
A father’s coffin is pushed open from the force

Of a large magnolia tree in full bloom


A corpse being animated by the roots of a tree. That inspired this pen and ink and watercolor drawing.
I call it "Grave Dance".

That got me to thinking and more drawing. I wanted to do something a little cleaner-looking with two figures who were more obviously dancing. "Grave-Dancing". This one is pen and ink colored digitally in Photoshop.

This led to a general obsession with the juxtaposition of skeletons and life. This next one is called "Crown of Ivy".
Another pen and ink and watercolor.

The next one is a variation on the theme called "Flames of Love". The idea of love totally consuming two people till there is nothing left but the bones. Pen and ink and acrylic.

Then the skeleton-couple idea kicked in. This one came to me as I was lying in bed my wife and our cat one morning. "Skeletal Couple and Cat"

This led to different types of couples. The idea of a human man and a mermaid. "Man and Mermaid".

This led to a final mermaid/man composition, a variation on the skeleton/mermaid idea I called "Tideline".

This one is called "Heartflower".

 

Animals and Adjectives Challenge: Final Week

If you have been following my posts for the last month or so, you know my wife Amy came up with a fun challenge  to keep me drawing each day. She wrote a list of about 30 adjectives on a piece of paper, and a list of animals on another; she put all the adjective slips in one cup, and all the animal slips in another. I pick an adjective slip and an animal slip at random from the cups each day and then draw whatever came up.
After a break for vacation, here are my sketches for the last weeks, (4-5) of the challenge.

The first one was "Sad Tiger". 

 Perturbed Porcupine which with a lack of reference  ended up looking more like a wolverine.

Mournful Kangaroo.

Pleasant Wolf.

Brave Owl.

Neutral Eagle.

Joyous Cow.

Overwhelmed Otter.

Dominant Chipmunk

Confused Horse.

 Serious Octopus.

 
That's it for now.