P. and I went north for Thanksgiving. Way way north. Specifically, to Montreal. I still can’t believe that neither of us had ever been. My question is, what the hell took us so long? One noticeable difference between NYC and Montreal is that the sidewalks there are caked with snow and ice, and walking becomes a little more treacherous as a result. Instead of taking pictures of all the great signage and architecture, I had my head down (not the entire time, just for this little stroll), making sure my every step landed where it should.
I assume that these studies in perspective, drawn by my stepfather, were from his freshman or sophomore year at art school during the early 1930s. My assumption is based on my own first year in art school. I did many of these same types of drawings for a class called “Drawing Perception.” The only difference being that our professor had us using a No. 2 pencil on a kind of drawing vellum, and erasers were absolutely verboten. Even, in some cases, grounds for failure. The pieces here are yet another part of the analog trove of work found at my mother’s house. Note his very stylized signature.
Sid is nine, and amazing. She is all stream of consciousness. Her voice will leave your jaw hanging. She has the “top hat” gene like no other child I have ever met, not to mention a quirky and original sense of humor. Now, to add to her growing list of talents: illustration and anatomy.
Maybe I’m not getting out enough, but this is the first time I’ve seen a “C” grade posted in a window of a restaurant. What, I wonder, does one have to do in order to qualify for such a stellar mark. Here is your answer. And, while it’s not pretty, I’m not sure the almost failing mark would stop me from going to my favorite restaurant.
I like looking at the world from above. Happy Friday.
While the solutions may take on somewhat different forms, the questions of how to make a success of one’s design or invention remain the same. Mr. Murray A. Gleeson published his book of wisdom in 1970.
About 15 years ago I remember being on the subway and seeing something that shocked me: a woman got into the car at 57th Street and, affixed to each of her 10 fingernails, were highly sculpted, three-dimensional unicorns. All different. All really pronounced. At the time I just stared. What I didn’t know is that the image would continue to haunt me this long after. I wondered at the time whether this was some crazy new trend in nail art. Why yes, yes it was. Here is but the teensiest smattering of nail art paraphernalia. The first image is fascinating. Photos are from here, here, here and here.