Friday, March 18, 2011

Subway Spyglass

I recently tried one of the oldest tricks in the sketchbook: drawing people on the subway. One guy was featured in the New York Times and on NPR for his ambitious goal of drawing every person in New York.

As most of my lovely readers know, I might have a slightly negative perception of New Yorkers, so I approach this activity with the sense that New York is perhaps not the most hospitable environment for drawing random fellow passengers. I've seen too many people assuming the worst of a perfectly well-meaning stranger, so it makes me a bit nervous to be a perfectly well-meaning stranger. But there's always the thrill of getting away with it.

One woman told me she's been drawing people on the subway for ten years. She says most people think it's pretty cool when they catch her drawing them. They like to see what you've made of them, she says. Kids especially love it. And generally people are so fixated on whatever device they're tapping on or reading, or they're plain conked out asleep, that they don't notice the spy with the sketchbook.

Recently she said she was getting off the train near her house when another woman started yelling at her about how it was a violation of people's privacy and you can't go around doing things like that and how dare you think it's okay. So, that's New York.

And I'm turning into a regular criminal here.


Riding the 4-5 express

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Mending Bridges

It takes a big man to reach across crumbled planks and say, I was wrong, I'm sorry.

To say, look here, I brought a hammer and nails, a few boards I found behind the garage. I should have done this a long time ago, the first day we met. But at least starting from now you'll be able to walk from that bank there to this bank here, no matter where you are. I promised I would do this from the beginning. But the truth is, I'm not a person who nails down fresh planks. I'm the person who plants dynamite under the span at night. I'm the person who doesn't understand why the next day everyone climbs into the other guy's boat instead of scrambling across the remains of the bridge I just blew up. After all, you can still walk part way across the river before you have to turn around.

Until today, I had a box of matches in my pocket, ready to light up that battered bridge.













Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Blood dries up
Like rain, like rain
Fills my cup
Like four seasons in one day

- Crowded House











Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Scent of Imperfection

For now there was nothing for her to gain by watching him nap. His infrequent smile made her stomach collapse into itself for having glimpsed something so honest and beautiful. That alone kept her poking her head back in to see if he might start to wake up. At most he sleepwalked.

It crushed her a little bit each time, but who has control over what they love, or whom?






One of my favorites