Monday, March 22, 2010

Portrait of my Dad & Spring

So this one wasn't so easy. I've only done a few sketches and a watercolor of him before. Of my Mom I only did a drawing of her while she was very sick with lung cancer in the hospital. I'm off into the land of faces again.
I get on the subway and paint strangers. I walk through Central Park and imbibe bodies.
Spring is pressed into the buds on trees; squeezing, willing, wishing its way into space. There was a man running around the reservoir. He was a big, muscular guy bounding along the graveled trail, his essence swirling behind him and gathering bits of verbal accolades in response. He made me think of the mythical hart leaping away from his hunters.

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