Bar code

20150125 Snipe (1)

This week I learned that discount retailers have made bar codes three times larger and present on three sides of a product.  This allows faster scanning, contributing to a 40% increase in productivity (i.e. checkout throughput).  The snipe’s bar coded plumage extend the length of its back and head, mimicking the dark and light of the reeds within which it hides.  These birds were hidden in plain view 20 feet from me.  I guessed they might be there but found them only with binoculars.

I am looking forward to evenings with longer light and the chance to draw duels and courtship in the nature reserve once again.

20150125 Snipe (2)

Slothful weekend

My son states that not one of my attempts to draw him actually look like him.  He thinks I should simply draw cartoon sloths because they have a similar hair style to him, and seem to be always smiling, like him.

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It seems a harsh criticism because he does not stay still long enough to allow me to draw.  Here, he is attempting to control a column of air wound round in a brass tube such that there is an interval between the emerging tones and a gap between the notes.  This challenge  keeps him in the same spot and doing the same thing for a few minutes.

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My oldest son sent these youngest a book of ideas for building from Lego.  They dragged the crate of accumulated pieces into the living room and I realised I had five minutes to draw while they constructed.

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Even then, it is remarkable how lively they were, gyrating through different positions on the floor while preoccupied with their task.  Quickly this descended into a chase across the furniture as their constructs were caught up in a narrative.

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In the picture below, he has perched on the stairs to read the Lego book.  I draw from under the table tennis table in the hall.  Perhaps the odd angle explains why I gave him puny forelimbs like a Tyrannosaurus.

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The play park in the cold is an inauspicious setting to draw.  Here, he perched for a minute on a high log.  There is something missing from this sketch … I think it is half his leg.

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One trick is to do a deal.  I drew her in return for her drawing me.

She needs to talk about a talent in class next week.  Her original plan was to play the ukulele.  I was a bit sceptical: initial enthusiasm a year ago quickly faded when pressing the strings hurt her fingers.  She thinks I could teach her enough in the next 5 days.  Her faith in me is touching but misplaced. My playing is limited to messing around, mostly in a G minor harmonic scale with a drone on the low G hit by my thumb, fantasising I am Ravi Shankar.

She has a better chance with drawing.  Given a spare moment she draws.  So I gave her a pad with decent cartridge paper and a 4B pencil.  She was willing to listen to my explaining about 3D shapes and shadows because she has five days before presenting this talent, which is pressing a little on her mind.  If she allows, I will post her drawings soon.

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Today, we did an experiment.  Could a sloth lie on its back in the water with all four paws vertically upright allowing a sail to be hoisted?  We think the answer is no.  We sank.

Can a sloth swim on its back

Amnesty International campaign: Free Raif Badawi

Last weekend, I lost myself to my thoughts while cycling, pounding the country lanes crisscrossing the canal until I reached the flight of locks and junction with the canal path that would take me home.  I slogged through mud, half cycling half paddling until I emerged on the road again, to wheel my way with a flat front tyre.

Kingswood Junction, Lapworth 11 01 2015 (1)

The dredging boat “Shoveler” at Kingswood Junction, Lapworth, drawn as evening fell and the winter light faded. This was sketched in ink and water, then layered with conte crayon and pastel.

 

My thoughts have been shaped by last week’s slaughter of cartoonists and journalists in Paris and from there to the killing of Ahmed Merebet, decimation in Nigerian villages, refugees fleeing civil war in Syria, children killed at school in Pakistan. There are so many victims of extremism, intolerance and war and so many of these victims are Muslim.  These reports have fleeting existence in news media before being replaced.

Seamus Heaney’s poem Digging begins:

Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests; snug as a gun.

His writing has its roots in the physical act of digging, the hard slog, the smells of soil and potatoes, the sounds of cleaved turf.  He says of his forefathers:

But I’ve no spade to follow men like them.

But lacking their brawn and skill, he concludes:

Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests.
I’ll dig with it.

Raif Badawi wrote a blog in Saudi Arabia.  Metaphorically, he dug with his pen.  He promoted the values of freedom, and importantly, tolerance and respect.  He is being beaten for it.  What little we can do, we should do.  I have linked to Amnesty International’s petition against this abominable act.

Seduced

Today I bought three books more than I intended because the assistant became excited and animated about teen fiction, fantasy and the dearth of positive female leads in books for 7 year olds.  My sister rang and I explained why I had yet to leave the shop.  “Ask her if she’s called Charley” she said.  I did, and she was.  My sister immediately recognised her because of she displays so much enthusiasm promoting books to my nephew.  Waterstones – pay that woman more!

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Quick sketch as the sun set behind clouds behind me, watercolour washes added later from memory

The bloke in the music shop who restrung my ukulele also showed me how to oil a trumpet.  A good day for meeting people who know their stuff and are enthusiastic.

 

Snipe

The icy water surface of the flooded gravel pit is full of piping teal and wigeon, mallards, barnacle and pink footed geese, ascending lapwings and clouds of circling black headed gulls.  Silent and hidden among broken reeds and rushes, the snipe are hunkering down.  The stripes down their backs almost completely mimic their surroundings. A shrill cry above from a possible predator catapults birds into the air, but snipe stay still.

Snipe

Snipe in the rushes: pen and watercolour

The soft winter evening light glows off their plumage and the myriad stripes of surrounding vegetation.

2015-01-02 snipe

2015-01-02 snipe

Snipe 2: fountain pen, conte crayon and photoshop glow filter

Snipe: fountain pen, conte crayon - original sketchbook

Snipe: fountain pen, conte crayon – original sketchbook