No chance to draw today. I printed two pages (editions of 105 each), watched Bumblebee play The Black Bean Blower (finally!), came home and cooked a double batch of chocolate beetroot cake (it's my turn to provide supper for bookbinding tomorrow night) and once I'd got B to bed, I've been laying out a (voluntary) newsletter for the bookbinders' guild. Best Beloved is in Sydney for a meeting.
So here is a nice little number from the vault. I was looking through my sketchbook for my first-ever semester at Art School. Gosh. Lots of great ideas but so green about how to achieve them.
I've always loved life drawing, but I used to get into trouble for exaggerating the body parts. At least I'm not making the tits huge like in comic-book drawing. In fact I'm not quite sure what is happening in that region here, but the thigh works for me. Classic art school student life drawing: no hands, feet, and a sketchy face. When I realised that was a cliche, I made a point of always drawing the model's actual face. But I hadn't had that epiphany in April 1995.
Oh, and for those interested, the Black Bean Blower play was brilliant. Here is the leading man himself (a bit fuzzy, sorry):