
This weekend I junked my pumpkin. See contest and entries here.
I feel so fortunte to have been a part of
the paper quilt project this October. It's my first real attempt at a collage (darn! Wish I had documented the progress) and think I did alright considering I couldn't pick out the patterns myself.
The project worked as follows: You get a bunch of scrap pieces of (lovely) paper in the mail, have two weeks to develop a piece out of the scraps (without adding more of your own) in the theme: A day in my life. Send the package back within two weeks and then at the end of the year all artists involved will decide which charity they want the quilt to go to and they get auctioned off. I'll let you know which charity it is closer to the date!
See more samples from other artists here.
A day in my life:
As some of you may know, I've taken up knitting. Both my cat and I adore this new hobby of mine although I have to actually finish a single project yet (I keep tearing them out and restarting).

My first sketchbooks rarely filled more than half of their pages before I gave up sketching, lost it (temporarily) or just plum stopped sketching for months (ahem, sometimes years) at a time. Even in college, when I was required to complete sketchbooks I did so as though it was a chore. Perhaps restricted subject matter was always something akin to completing a math problem instead of seeing it as the root for a great idea? These college notebooks, while interesting to see the amazing progress and changes I went through as an artist, are rather dull. Blackened by millions of pen strokes there were tea kettles, forks and even a wheel chair. I wondered why I didn't try to develop my style back then, why I only bothered with still lifes that were improperly set up? I rarely go a day without sketching since I quit my last full time job. I can't sit in front of the tv without at least holding it, getting ready for the next big idea. Is it that I'm no longer afraid to draw something that might be perceived as silly, just plain weird or be rejected/disliked... a target for someone's rotten eggs? I'm also starting to not care if my sketchbooks have thumbnails, wording, or the beginning trickle of a story.
But why sketch at all? Does it matter, really, if you take some of your "free time" to put pen to paper?
Sketching is so freeing. You don't ever have to show your sketchbook to anyone, you don't have to show your clients (well, unless you sketch your client work in your sketchbook I suppose), your mom & dad, your pet rabbit... although I've found that the more often I share my sketchbook the more I enjoy drawing in it and the more confident I get. Any compliment is another gentle push towards the goals I have set for my career.
Sketching is a release. I have to draw cute little things all day (which I love, don't get me wrong) but sometimes you just don't feel happy or energetic. Sometimes I feel mad as a hornet. A safe place to get this out can be in my sketchbook. I'll draw someone with a really big mouth yelling. Then I laugh at it because it looks dumb and can move on.
Above all, sketching is a record of your progress. I'd never sell my sketchbooks. They're far better than my diaries ever will be and worth way more. Maybe in the coming entries I'll post sketches from my very first sketch books just to give you an idea on where I've come from and where I am now.
Happy Sketching!







This is the first complete image in a new children's picture book I'm working on with local author Patricia Gitersos. It's a very sweet story about a little brown cow who does odd and wonderful things. Focusing on a signature colour each page (this time the red boat) other colours will be a little more muted and soft. It's my first assignment in watercolour.
Lately all I've been spotting is snowflakes (not outside the window, but on the "web") and they're everywhere I look! I really wish I had some money this year to buy a very exciting christmas present because so many of the most exciting children's book illustrators have contributed to "Roberts Snow", a charity auction of hand painted snowflakes, that I'm practically rolling around with glee thinking about them.