Tanya. My best friend died 23 years ago, I still miss her and connect to her in my mind very often. Proper to say she still exists for me. She was 7 years older than me and very wise. She was an aircraft engineer and interior designer. She had double education. She was thirsty for knowledge and curious and drugged me to interesting events and adventures. I have deep respect to 3 people in the world: my father, Tanya and my other friend Konstantin. Here I used ink.
Sketches on NY Subway with old Eberhard Faber Blackwing pencil. 8.5×6′ DKNY sketchbook. One young man, white collar, yelled across the subway car :”What are you drawing? Are you drawing me?” It sounded pretty aggressive. I smiled motherly and shook my head and showed him from the distance my sketchbook, this last page, that I drew that napping woman, not him. In reality I wanted to whack him on a head and bark to leave me alone, because people looked at me, but I kept weak smile on my face.
This paper is more than 20 something years old, I ripped it from the watercolor pad with blue cover saying Aquarell, I think it is german. I think I bought it before my daughter was born. Last place were it was basement Upstate. I like everything old, its connecting time. I used ink and a little bit of Kuretake pens for color. Nothing special about this street, it is life what is beautiful, light and shadows, and existing. Size is 12″x12.7″
Roses and tuna-melt on a bagel. Ink and leftovers of Kuretake and Inktense pencils puddles on plastic lids.
Locked up by hurricane I used daylight time to do a little sketch of old coffee pot, longing for coffee, we had no power for a few days. I used watercolor and precious Namiki Falcon pen.
Hurricane Irene started as a small rain.
Underground, waiting too long for a train I was stung by a song by an older guy with guitar, singing in Spanish something really beautiful and personal about love, beauty and faith. It was such a contrast between urbanized structure of the station, colorless busy people passing by and this man singing love song. I scribbled in my sketchbook, snapped blurry picture on my phone and left in dismay.
Went to look for a coffeemaker and was stunned by the beauty of the glass singing its own melody on the dark industrial street under the train in Brooklyn. Still living with crappy coffeemaker but will remember that day with dust, sunlight, shadows and glass. Ink and touch of Inktense pencils on old, very old watercolor paper.
What's this?
