Back in Life Drawing class!  Well not so much a classroom, the Atomic Rooster is a busy little bar on Bank Street just south of Somerset, smack dab in the middle of some urban scenes in this town.  One of the lads, Peter, I think he organized the event and I’d seen it advertised on Facebook and knew it would be kind of fun, going back in to draw some live humans instead of…   Well.  You know.

On the way I saw a big wing ding going on at the Cube Gallery on Wellington.  The lights were blazing bright at 7 p.m. and the place looked packed to the rafters with all kinds of flashy folks so I thought I better pull over and check it out.  Don had a full house alright and what seems to be a “two day only” show happening.  Nice abstract work!

I was out of there inside of twenty minutes and down to the Rooster!  And so here is one of three:


Best Western Black ink pen on 60 pound paper, 7×10″.  Of course the model didn’t look like that nor was she dressed like that.  They switch out the models and last night they had three of them.  This gal was dressed up as a witch!  But I went to town and turned it into this.  You see I’m always dreaming, both night and day, about the range lands, the river, the blue and the green and the gigantic peace that goes along with it, and of course the people there.

I’m rusty.  After I got started with my drawings I realized the last time I sat in a room full of artists, going to work with a live model, was about thirty years ago, back when I was in art school!  Holy Shoot!  Dang straights you’re going to be rusty that long away.  The other artists in the room were definitely a long way from student level.  At the end of the night we were to pick our favourite sketch and display it on the stage, an open, group art show of sorts, for folks to take a looksie.  Yes indeed there were some serious players in that group.  Very nice work.  And every one of them different and unique-wah.

So it was an enjoyable and friendly time, with very beautiful girls modelling, a relaxed atmosphere, the Bluejays Wild Card game playing on the TV above the bar, and dope smoke blowing in the open front door.

Once it was said and done I thought I’d snoop the earlier pages in my sketch book and what a journal it is…  Like this one from May 1, 2016.


Next and last question:  What does an artist do with all of these sketch books?  I mean really, I must have a hundred of them.  Where do they end up?