The Elegantly Dressed Beautiful Woman | Ink on Paper | 2004-2018
‘The elegantly dressed beautiful woman with the cat as her carry-on wearing black and an orange scarf and visiting her parents in San Diego who can’t have pets and thinks her nose is bigger than I drew it but was flattered and thinks I am lucky.’
I created the line drawing portion of this drawing in December of 2004 while at the airport waiting to go to San Diego. The woman and I kept in touch and I sent her a photo of the drawing. 14 years later I decided to finish it with color.
Susan seldom saw herself in this space. But between bouts of binge watching and bra burning she brought herself before the bastion of beauty. With wonder and wisdom she willingly wept at the way in which the wayward artist had winnowed down the wasteful and worthless and wicked and woeful and was left with only the worthy and wonderful and winsome. She decided to dutifully display the divine art in her dining room where her dependents would, no doubt, demand she defend her decision to ditch the dog do drivel that had been displayed before the divorce. Susan sat sassily at the Sunday soiree surrounded by so many sons and smiled and said see I shall show something satisfying to myself and you shall simply sit and suffer. The brothers busted out a big bah ha ha and then, being boys, blabbed about the ballgame.
I have been going through old sketchbooks recently and one in particular has stood out for having some amazing drawings. Not because of technical skill but because of the bizarre content. I have always drawn some pretty odd scenes but this one sketchbook seems to be filled with them. I am not sure why. The only thing I can think of is the size of the book. It’s bigger (7″x10″) than the average sketchbook I carry around with me. I think perhaps that allows me more space to create a scene and when I create a scene out of my imagination I tend to get pretty out there.
Once upon a time there were six sextuplet sisters. The were named Wendy, Sally, Debra, Fiona, Angela and Gail. They all looked exactly the same when they were born. But as they grew they started to look different, one from the other. How they looked ended up being how others saw them, even if they weren’t really like that.
WENDY
Wendy had high, arched eyebrows so people thought she was always wondering. But she was not. She was wonderful and winsome and woeful and wicked and wired and wonky. But she was not wondering.
SALLY
Sally always looked like she was trying poop so people thought she was stressed. But she was not. She was scary and soulful and silly and sacred and sturdy and scandalous. But she was not stressed.
DEBRA
Debra had blue hair and green skin and so people thought she was depressed. But she was not. She was doubtful and dangerous and dorky and definitive and debatable and dramatic. But she was not depressed.
FIONA
Fiona had a head shaped like a football so people thought she was a football fan. But she was not. She was fastidious and fearless and fabulous and farty and forgetful and forebearing. But she wasn’t a football fan.
ANGELA
Angela didn’t smile much so people thought she was always angry. But she was not. She was angular and ambitious and absolute and ambulatory and arboreal and agnostic. But she wasn’t angry.
GAIL
Gail liked dark makeup so people thought she was goth. But she was not. She was garrulous and grand and gifted and goofy and gleeful and gorgeous. But she wasn’t goth.
The six sextuplet sisters loved sailing and shuffleboard and star gazing and sharing souffles and sauntering together. But they didn’t like being judged only by their looks. Their parents taught them to pass by people who did that and instead just go forward being who they wanted to be, always believing in each other and being best buddies. They had a fabulous family and faithful friends because of that.
I saw a new person in the orchestra this week. I liked the wave of her hair and the shape of her face. I couldn’t see her once we sat down so that was all I had in my head as I started the drawing. From there she gradually turned into a bust of a Goddess or Queen or whatever you think she might be.
I drew this a number of weeks ago when I was playing around with profiles and symmetry/assymetry. I enjoyed making everything about them color opposites while their sentiments were exactly the same.
This style harkens back to when I first started coloring my napkin drawings, way back in 2008 and 2009 when I would just follow the lines I had drawn with colors.
Have you ever seen ‘The Big Lebowski’? It’s a great movie. I mention it because in it a friend, Walter (played by John Goodman), is trying to help Lebowski (also known as ‘the dude’, played by Jeff Bridges) get reimbursed for a ruined carpet (Someone peed on it). Lebowski is a very mellow dude and is trying to go about it in his own slacker way. But Walter is a hot head and is always overreacting to events. He escalates situations into some pretty extreme violence when it is utterly unnecessary. He uses a hatchet when a flyswatter was the right tool.
I recently saw a live video stream of the musician Jewel performing. She was talking about when she was down and out, homeless and broke, not sure where she was going to go and what she was going to do. She said she realized at one point that she wasn’t just thinking something, she was observing herself thinking it. And that made a huge difference in her life Because she realized, if you are the observer of your thoughts then you can change those thoughts. You can evaluate if those thoughts are good for you and those around you. You can take steps to change those thoughts to be more positive, more helpful, more loving. You are not an unconscious being just existing, you are able to change who you are because you are able to see yourself and take action. So do it already.
The woman was so anxious to finally tell the other woman about what was going on in her life because the other woman was a good friend. They were able to go have coffee one fall morning and have time to talk. The woman spilled her guts to the other woman, telling her all about her husband’s terrible behavior, including verbal abuse and cheating on her with some other woman. The other woman listened intently to everything she said and nodded in what the woman thought was signs of sympathy. But the woman was wrong about the other woman being sympathetic because she was the other woman.
Jack was always tired. He never slept, burning the candle at both ends. That was a problem because it caused wax to drip everywhere and that made the partners in the law firm where he worked very angry. He got fired and spent his October either watching the baseball playoffs or sitting on the stoop outside his walkup wondering what to do. He was depressed and got lit often. It was a very scary time for him.
But eventually he died, became compost, was spread across a garden and helped grow a new batch of happy pumpkins the next year.
One of the most frustrating things for many artists is when someone is so sucked in by technical virtuosity that they pay no attention to anything else. They don’t care if it’s a lame, derivative and unimaginative image of a B list celebrity, all they see is that ‘it looks so real, isn’t that amazing!’. It becomes the end all and be all of artistic value.
But for me, it is first off, a technical feat that isn’t as hard as people think it is. It looks impressive but having done photo-realism myself back in graduate school days, I know it can be done with repeated practice and not much else. It doesn’t, in and of itself, take a lot of imagination or creativity, it just takes technical practice. Don’t get me wrong, it can include those things, it’s just that often times it does not.
Secondly, admiring that over all else shows a simplistic understanding of art and what it can be and do in society. If the only art that is great or worthy is art that is a direct copy of a photograph or of a real scene, then it cuts off the value of the creative impulse in art that goes beyond realism, like expressionism, abstraction, impressionism, conceptual art, etc.
Thirdly, we already have the photo. What is the value of making something look like a photo when you already have the photo? It becomes just a way to prove virtuosity, which means it becomes a gimmick. Gimmicks in art fall flat after a while.
Fourth, it creates a group of artists who feel like the only valid work is realistic work, that they have to stay in that realm or they are discarded as being not very good. This is especially damaging to beginning artists in their teenage years where they are often pushed to make things look ‘realistic’. But art doesn’t need to be realistic to be valuable and good. But these teens, frustrated with their inability to make something look real, which might be being taught by their teacher and expected from their parents, give up on art never knowing they were perfectly ok just working in whatever vein they were working in.
My teaching philosophy is to teach creativity development and imagination building alongside technical expertise. If one does that then the artist will be able to create technical masterpieces but will have something unique and original within them that make them more than just dead copies of something else.
Medusa Studies for an Exam – The Adventures of Medusa
Medusa needed to read her Greek Mythology book for her Ancient Religion class so she went to a local coffee house to study. She was minding her own business, drinking her cappuccino and eating her gluten-free caramel brownie when a man came up and started to talk to her. She was polite and said hello but then said she needed to study and wasn’t able to talk right then. He didn’t get the hint and kept talking to her as he leaned up against the fireplace. He started to compliment how beautiful she was and what a great body she had. He started asking her questions about her relationship status and if she came there often. She didn’t respond to him, keeping her nose squarely in her book. He got annoyed and called her a cold, snobby bitch. She turned around to look at him. He was stone cold silent from then on.
She finished reading, took the test and passed with flying colors.
The End
You can read more by looking up ‘Adventures of Medusa’ in the ‘series’ drop down menu on the right.
I draw the majority of my images from my imagination. But many of the drawings may start with something or someone I see as an inspiration point. It might be a long straight nose, or the uniformity of choir robes, that I remember and start with. But after that initial inspiration I am not trying to recreate the look of a person or place. I am then much more interested in the marks on the piece of paper and what they represent. This usually doesn’t happen with designed intent beforehand.
Where the Light Was On
For example, I didn’t start out wanting to show a woman looking off to a high rise in the distance. I started out wanting to echo the long vertical line of her nose with another long vertical line in the distance. It was after I made that second line in the distance that I started wondering what that could be. Then I started designing the scene with intent. Her look was so intensely focused off to my right that I didn’t think the high rise by itself would be a sufficient reason for her to be looking in that direction. A light on would make the difference and create the loop between the woman and the building. That in turn makes one wonder, what is happening in that building?
She Had A Little Work Done
I often start a drawing of a person with their nose. But I tend to do long noses or really big curved noses. I do this because I like making a big first mark on the page. But I got tired of doing that and was thinking about what sort of nose I could draw that I don’t often. So in the middle of the page I put the smallest nose I could. The moment I did that I thought about someone getting a nose job to reduce the size of it. The phrase ‘she had a ‘little’ work done’ came to mind. I built around that idea with other elements that were outsized instead of small, to allow for a big contrast. In the end though the drawing really wasn’t about the nose and the ‘little work’ it had done, it was about the eyes and lips and the BIG work that was done. As a matter of fact to me it looks like the only part of her that wasn’t worked on is her nose since the line is simple and uncolored. Sometimes what you think you are going to drawing isn’t what you end up really drawing.
Asparagus
I have a real penchant for art movements of Surrealism and and Dada from the early to mid twentieth century. I don’t know why but I like things that make me go ‘huh?’ and art from both those movements make me do that. In this drawing it really isn’t the image that does that, but the words. There’s no reason for them to be connected and that is the whole point. Thoughts and life don’t always make sense, but that doesn’t mean they don’t occur.
The Woman Who Drank Too Much Coffee
I showed this drawing to a friend in another country via live streaming video and she didn’t understand what all the marks were about. I explained it by telling her the title, then she understood completely!
The Choir Sings About Tools
The whole idea behind a choir (or any group in a uniform) is to present the group as being more important than the individual. It’s a powerful way to put something out into the world that wouldn’t be possible as individuals. But yet, without the individuals the group could never exist. Yes, each person here is drawn as an individual in the facial features and hair, but when it came to coloring them I decided it would be more interesting to show what was coming out of their mouths as being what made them individual, instead of their skin color.
Why the tools? Well, I couldn’t really think of a great quote or song lyric at the time and I thought icons of tools would be an interesting challenge to draw.
I Feel So City
The idea for this drawing was observing a woman reading at a coffee shop. I was barely able to get the lines of her face and body in before she left. What I was left with was someone who, without the book in the picture, looked rather depressed. I colored her in bright colors to compensate for that depressed look but still saw it. I then drew the background to match her look, not her color. Adding the word play came to mind at that point.
It’s been a while since I have done a marathon update. Some pretty momentous things have happened so it’s time to fill you in!
The last marathon I reported on was the Oakland Marathon in March of 2018. I finished that marathon in 4:03:41. My goal was to finish in 4:05 because I wanted to test to see if I could finish below the Boston Marathon qualifying time of 4:10 for the 2020 race (when I would be 65 years old). I also mentioned that the Oakland race course was mismeasured by 1/2 a mile. The actual distance was 26.7 miles, no 26.2. As a result my 4:03 would have been closer to 3:58 if it had been accurately measured. That more accurate (but unofficial) time of 3:58 made me start thinking about trying to qualify not for the 2020 Boston Marathon, but for the 2019 one. The reason there is a difference is because I would still be in the 60-64 year old category if I ran in 2019. That means my time would have to be well below the 3:55 qualifying time for 60-64. It would have to close to 3:51, not 4:05. That’s a big difference to make up!
Oakland was an early spring marathon and that meant I still had time to race again before the heat of summer came around and the races stopped until the fall. I started looking into races that I could run in April in the hopes of breaking that 3:51 time. I settled on the Illinois Marathon in Champagne-Urbana on April 28th. It was a drivable distance from Tulsa, had a reputation for being flat and fast and the temperatures would be better than those in the Oklahoma races in the same time frame. So I signed up and ran the race. However, I was not able to make the time I wanted. I finished in 3:58:12, about the same time I would have finished Oakland if it had actually been 26.2 miles. I was happy to officially break 4 hours but was disappointed in myself because my race strategy was terrible.
Mistake #1– Choosing the Pace Group
My plan was to run with the 3:55 pacer but when I talked to the 3:50 pacer at the expo she convinced me I needed to run with her if I was going to make my time. So I started out with that pace group. What that meant was I used up too much energy going too fast too early.
Mistake #2 – Water Intake
I made another mistake before I even left the starting gate. I didn’t go to the bathroom one last time. What that really meant was I drank too much water too soon before the start of the race. As a result I had to stop to pee at about mile 6. It took way too long and I lost the pace group as a result. I continued on at the proper pace but didn’t have any support from then on.
Mistake #3– Fueling
My strategy was to take my gels (Huma brand) every 5 miles, which I did. It seemed to be plenty sufficient. I drank at most water stops as well. However, when mile 22 came around I just had to slow down. I eventually took a walk break in each of miles 23-25. I was worn out and the head wind of 20+ mph didn’t help.
Mistake #4– Timing
The Illinois Marathon was just 5 weeks after Oakland. What that meant was it was too close to retrain. In other words I pretty much had to just maintain as best I could between the two races. I had to take it easy the first week or two after Oakland and that meant I only had a week to get back my race mojo back before having to taper again for the next race. Which meant I didn’t really improve anything in that amount of time. As a result I was able to perform about the same, not better.
Next Chance/Last Chance
The season was done at that point and I knew any more attempts to qualify for Boston would have to take place in the fall. However, registration for Boston opens and closes in a very short window of time in early September. If I was going to qualify it would have to be no later than the weekend of Sept. 8th/9th. I started scoping out races that weekend and found there were many in the northern tier states that were specifically advertised at Boston qualifiers. I settled on one in Erie, Pennsylvania. It had everything I wanted in a race. It was geared towards qualifying in that it was flat, fast and small. 44% of participants had qualified in 2017, making it one of the top 4-5 races in the country for that purpose. It was a 13.1 mile tear drop shaped course that you did twice. Some of the other possible races were loops that you had to do 6-8 times. I had no interest in that.
Erie Marathon also was on a peninsula off-shore from the city of Erie, PA. It was a protected area with huge and plentiful trees, a nature preserve, beaches and no city streets or sharp turns. I made my choice and started to train.
I trained harder than ever. I ran more miles (averaging well over 40 miles per week, a lot for me) and I did more specific types of training runs (speed work, tempo runs, progression runs, recovery runs, etc.). I also lost a bit of weight (about 5 lbs), ate better, and continued my cross training regimen to focus even more on flexibility and strength.
The Strategy
The race might be set to be perfect in every way but if I don’t have a solid race strategy it wasn’t going to matter. The strategy was based on overcoming the four major mistakes I had made in Illinois.
Fix #1 – Choosing the Pace Group
This time my strategy was to go with the 3:55 pacer for 10 miles then slowly move forward from there, increasing my pace gradually having saved energy in the first 10 miles. There is a bad strategy people sometimes fall into called ‘putting minutes in the bank’. You go out fast and each mile that passes you start to add up the seconds and minutes you have available at the other end. The truth though is, if you go out too fast and save minutes, you will end up spending 1.5x those minutes in your slow down at the tail end of the race. In other words you can’t sustain that pace and it will come back to bite you. This time I didn’t do that, I went out slower than I knew I need to go and it paid off.
Fix #2 – Water Intake
I ate my breakfast earlier than in Illinois and I stopped drinking water 1 3/4 hours before the race. That way my bladder was completely empty and the majority of the digestion I needed to do was done when the time came to get in the corral with the pacer. However, I was plenty hydrated and fueled because I had been very deliberate about doing so not just for the day before but for the entire week before. I was ready to go.
Fix #3 – Fueling
I decided to take my gel every 4 hours instead of every 5. I did this primarily to make sure my fuel store was always full but there was fantastic unintended consequence to this strategy. As I started to fuel every 4 miles I noticed the time and distance was passing quicker than when I did it every 5 miles. This was apparent to me when twice during the race I had to count the gels in my pockets to make sure I wasn’t taking a gel twice at the mile marker instead of once. In other words, 4 miles went by so fast it seemed like I had just taken the gel. It helped considerably at the half way point because by that time I had started to break the race into 4 mile segments. I took my gel at mile 12 and before I knew it I was taking it again at mile 16. I had pretty much skipped worrying about hitting 13.1 and was just focused on coming up to 16. And 16? Well that is a LOT farther in a marathon than 13.1! Next thing I know I am at mile 20 and so on. I also took hydration and energy drinks at almost every water stop (there were a lot of stops!).
Fix #4 – Timing
The Erie Marathon was not an add-on afterthought to another race. It was my sole focus for 20 weeks of training. I could feel myself getting stronger and peaking at the right time in this training cycle instead of just holding on for 5 weeks until the next race. The determination was complete and my confidence was high.
Out Of My Control
As with any outdoor activity you can prepare all you want but if the weather gods don’t go along with your plans it can still be a rough outing. Because it was an early fall marathon (technically still in summer) I was worried about the temperatures. For many weeks before hand it was looking to be about 65º to start and about 75º at the end with pretty high humidity. Not optimal at all. If the sun was shining as well it could be trouble. However, with just about 4 days to go the forecast took a turn for the better, sort of. The temperatures were going down but the rain chances were increasing. It looked like we just start in the high 50s but with high winds and rain starting about halfway through. Not optimal but I had run in rain in a marathon before and had actually liked it. The question was how much rain, how much humidity, how much wind, how much cloud cover. On the day before the race it had become obvious the weather would be perfect IF the rain held off (or was light). The starting temp was forecast to be 57º and the finishing temp 4 hours later was expected to be 60º. 4 degrees increase over 4 hours? That is unheard of but very welcomed. The rain was still expected but not until a bit later in the day and we might miss it completely. And in the end, the rain held off and the wind was dramatically dampened by how forested the route was.
Ready, Set, Go
And just like that we were off. I implemented my strategy exactly as I had planned. 10 miles in I started to inch forward beyond the 3:55 pacer. I could see another pace group way up ahead and set my sights on it. In the meanwhile I kept watching runners ahead of me and made a game of picking them off one by one. I was patient and deliberate, sometimes taking as many as 10-15 miles to pass someone I could see ahead of me. By the time I finished I had passed what I estimate to be at least 100 people and had only had one person pass me. I eventually caught up with the next pace group (3:50) at about mile 24 and decided to keep my pace instead of fall back in line with them. I passed them and never looked back. It was a good thing I did since my final time was 3:50:25 and I was well ahead of that group by then.
Elation
People have said to me since then, ‘Man, you must have felt so great crossing that finish line’ and of course I did. But it wasn’t just the finish line. It was pretty much right after the 1/2 way point that I felt like I had this race. It sounds cocky and too early to say that to yourself but it really was how I felt. However, I know a lot can happen in 13 miles so I wasn’t doing any celebrating. I just felt confident in my plan is all. But when my 16 came around I felt even more confident. When 20 came around I had no doubt. So it wasn’t just the finish line where I felt elated. It was at least the last 10 miles of the race.
And, most selfishly, I accomplished my goal. I qualified for the Boston Marathon with a time of 3:50:25. That is 4:35 below the qualifying time of 3:55 for my age group. But, here is the kicker. They don’t accept everyone who qualifies. They start accepting the fastest people in the age group first and keep accepting until they have reached their limit for that group. Most years it’s about 2-3 minutes below the qualifying time. My time is a minute below the highest time they’ve ever had as a cut-off so it should be enough for me to be accepted. We shall see!
Gratitude and Pride
Because I am a running coach and training program coordinator, I have a lot of people watching me do my races. They are rooting me on, hoping the best for me, encouraging me and helping me in so many ways. As I was going through those final miles I kept thinking about how I wanted to make them proud. I wanted to make them happy. Not just for me, but to be part of a community that allows this to happen for me and for so many others. Even more important I wanted to make my wife Linda feel like I had done my best for her as well. She works hard and is the primary bread-winner in the house. I get to do this amazing sport in large part because of her and I want her to feel it’s been worth it. I want her to be proud of me. I want me daughters to be proud of me as well of course. But more than that I want them to see what they could be capable of when they are my age.
Next Steps
And now that is done. I’ve shown off my medal and my t-shirt. I’ve geeked out about all the statistics and told plenty of stories about some of the finer details of the race experience. I talked to my runners about the experience, emphasizing that having big goals is ok. But once you have them you put them on the back shelf and focus on smaller goals that are along the way, that are reachable but still a challenge. You build towards the big goal by reaching all the in between goals. And most importantly, each goal is actually a milestone, not a finish line. That way you are ever progressing, ever-moving forward.
My next race is the New York Marathon on November 4th. I am just starting to formulate my plan for that. It will be a different plan, made just for that day, that race and the conditions I come across. I will let you know how that goes. After that it’s a few weeks getting my runners to their goal races and then taking it easy over the holidays. Training for Boston will start about the last week of December. Wish my luck!
See you running,
Marty
Post-Script
I did not get into the Boston Marathon. What I thought was a safe time 4:36 below the qualifying standard turned out not to be the case. The cut off was 4:52. I missed out by 16 seconds. The worst aspect of this is that I know I could have easily run 16 seconds faster in that race. I could have done that in the last mile, that is how good I felt. But I didn’t. 20/20 hindsight is always so clear, right? Don’t worry, I’ve already had my pity party (bought and ate a Nestle’s Crunch bar) and am already working on the plan to qualify for the 2020 race.
Not only did I miss it by 16 seconds but they also have lowered the qualifying standard in each age group by 5 minutes. The good news is I ‘age up’ for 2020. That means I will be in a new age group, 65-69, since I will be 65 on the date of the 2020 Boston Marathon (that is how they judge your age group, not when you run your qualifying race but when you run their race. This year I needed to run under 3:55 by a substantial amount. But next year I will have to run under 4:00 hours. There is no guarantee of course but I have beat that time twice now, and by almost 10 minutes at Erie, so we shall see.
Ask a gay person who is not out of the closet what it is like and they will likely tell you it’s like being in a prison. I believe the same is likely true for a victim of domestic abuse who hasn’t been able to tell anyone the truth. And someone with a suspect past no one can know about? I bet they feel imprisoned as well. Basically anyone with a secret that they believe will harm them if found out is in that boat. What do they all have in common? Silence. As a matter of fact many people who do break through and tell their story find out it wasn’t the story that imprisoned them, it was the silence.
It seems so counter-intuitive. The fear is that exposure will lead to shame or guilt or condemnation or judgment. But keeping it all secret leads to all those things as well. It’s just that they are all internalized, thrown at you by yourself instead of others. It’s a heavy burden to bear. So, what is the solution?
There are times when it’s wise to stay silent about something. Perhaps it would hurt someone else unnecessarily or maybe it would put you in danger. But in many cases the secret is coming so close to destroying you from inside that you must let it out to someone in some way. Maybe a counselor, family member, or even a stranger would be best. But if the choice is between self-destruction and telling a secret, by all means find a way to let the secret out.
It really will turn out to be better on the other side of the wall of silence.
I spend time each evening drawing on my iPad Mini. I do this usually when I am in bed, right before I go to sleep. I don’t pre-plan what I am going to draw, I just let it happen. Here is part 4 in the series. You can see the others by selecting ‘digital work’ from the ‘series’ drop down menu.
Medusa’s big night finally arrived. She was going to prom! She picked up her date, a boy named Rock, at his house. Boy, were his parents surprised! Medusa introduced herself and tried to make them feel comfortable, but they were rather stiff. She made small talk with them, very small talk, while Rock finished getting ready (he had to tie his bow tie 14 times before he got it right).
Rock was scared to go to prom with Medusa but was even more scared of saying no to her. He had heard rumors about what happened to people who crossed Medusa. He held up ok until her hair (which consisted of snakes) loosened up a bit and started slithering over towards him during the prom pictures. He didn’t have a good night after that.
This month (Aug, 2018) we had the 45th year reunion of our Darien (Connecticut) High School class of 1973. One of the things we have all been amazed at over the years is how many of us ended up being artists of one sort or another. Some ended up being full-time professional artists, some part-time, but there were many more than you would figure from a class our size (about 300).
Jim Hett talking to a crowd in front of his artwork.
One of our alumnus (and artist), Jim Hett, also has had years of experience in museum work, installing, curating, organizing exhibitions. He took the initiative to organize an exhibition of many of the artists’ work and installed it at the Darien Public Library earlier this month. Even though I wasn’t able to attend I wanted to send some work. I had a small space to work with and I wanted something that would be thought-provoking in a library setting so I chose from my ‘I draw in church’ series. I sent a suite of 9 small framed pieces.
Here are pictures from the exhibition. Following those are the individual images.
Exhibition at the Darien Public Library
‘I Draw in Church’
‘I Draw in Church – Jan the Baptist’ | Ink on Paper | 2017
‘I Draw in Church – The Divine Calculator’ | Ink on Paper | 2018
‘I Draw in Church – Mary Magdalena’ | Ink on Paper | 2017
The following three drawings were done in an actual bible. It was given to me in 1997 and I stopped using it to draw in around 2001. I don’t know the specific dates I drew each of these images but I added color to all of them in 2018.
‘I Draw in Church – I Am Not Who I Appear To Be’ | Ink on Bible | 1997 – 2018
This drawing includes a poem I wrote.
I am not who
I appear to be.
You see beauty,
I see me.
I see me as
Far and away.
Helpless, hopeless,
Nowhere to stay.
I see me with
Aching bones,
Sagging skin and
Spiritual groans.
I see me as
Selfish and mean,
Trite and hateful,
Enviously green.
If you see me,
Truly you will know
My beauty proves
I don’t reap what I sow.
‘I Draw in Church – Thought in the Back of Her Mind’ | Ink on Bible | 1997 – 2018
‘ I Draw in Church – Prayers of a Pursed-Lipped Person’ | Ink on Bible | 1997 – 2018
These three drawings (one, ‘The Violinist’, is not pictured individually but you can see the image in the group picture above) do not include any words though one does still have thought bubbles. It’s just that there are images in the bubbles instead of words.
I Draw in Church – The Bible Reader | Ink on Paper | 2014
‘I Draw in Church – What They Thought’ | ink on paper | 2016-2018
(One piece is missing, ‘The Violinist’. I thought I had scanned it and had it in digital form but I haven’t been able to find it so I suspect I didn’t actually scan it.)
I’ve drawn in church since about 1980, probably because I started using sketchbooks small enough to carry into the building. When I tell people I do this often times I get the question, do people in church think that is rude? And here is the funny thing, while I have no doubt some do indeed think it is rude, not one time in close to 40 years has anyone ever said that to me directly. As a matter of fact most people who do talk to me about it are enthusiastic to see what I have drawn and want to know more about why I drew what I drew. This includes pastors, past and present, who sometimes are aware that I draw. The pastor at the church I currently attend will, on occasion, want to see my sketchbook, curious about what’s drawn my attention and how I may have interpreted a sermon or message. At least he knows when my head is facing down I am not asleep, just looking at my sketchbook!
Yesterday I was leading our running group in warm ups. I mentioned we were going to run a certain stretch of the route at the end and that I wanted them to do a certain thing during that. One of my coaches spoke up and said, “We aren’t doing that stretch of road on the route.” I looked at her map and sure enough, not only were we not doing that part, the part close to it that we were doing was at the beginning of the run, not the end. I had read the map backwards out of habit, thinking we would run clock-wise around the neighborhood as usual instead of counter-clockwise as the map showed. So, that was figured out.
Force of Habit
We finish the warm up and off I go with my lead group. What do I do? I go the wrong way. Even though I read the map, heard the coach say we were supposed to go in a certain direction, it had all flew right out of my mind like so many balloons drifting off into the atmosphere. I just defaulted to what I was used to and went in the clock-wise direction. It was not until I was about a mile into the run that I realized it.
Poof
Of course, it really wasn’t a big deal. We were going to get to the water stop and back to the store perfectly fine. We even passed the groups that had gone the right way as we hit the water stop. But it shows how easy it is for thoughts and ideas to just disappear out of you one’s head and into the ether.
And that is why I try to make a habit of writing things down as often as I can!
Who decides if God exists or doesn’t, is connected or disconnected from humanity, is male, female, non-binary or something else, is three in one, 747 in one, or one in one?
Who decides if everything happens for a reason, just some things, or no things?
Who decides if God in on the side of a certain race, creed, state, nationality, governmental process, or language?
Who decides what religious laws or rules you have to obey, what restrictions you have on yourself with food, drink, exercise, clothing, makeup, hair style, tattoos and piercings?
Who decides what writings are from God or not, which religion is right or not?
Who decides if God made males superior to females or females superior to males, approves of gay marriage or does not, approves of sex before marriage or not?
The answer to every question is ‘you decide’. Even if you believe in the inerrant word of God, taking the bible literally, it’s YOU who decide to believe that. Not your mother, not your father, not your priest or pastor. You decide.
