Venice



I returned to Venice this year for research on an upcoming book (2019!), and it was just as beautiful as always! It's such a magical and improbable city.


Nothing exemplifies this more than the elegant gondole that slide down the narrow canals and under the dozens of little bridges. Developed as a means of transportation through the shallow lagoon, these flat-bottomed boats have been a symbol of Venice for centuries.


Like the world's most elegant traffic jam, the gondole emerge from the tiny side canals into the bustling Grand Canal, twisting and pivoting with ease.


It's fascinating to watch the boats turn at fantastic angles, and watch the shapes distort and change so quickly with the leaning of the gondolino.


On the Grand Canal, they glide past elegant palaces in a dream-like cityscape that appears nearly unchanged since the Renaissance.


You can imagine, with not too much extrapolation, how incredible it would have been to look out from one of these palaces, with intricate pierced windows and marble mosaic walls and floors, as dozens of gondole and other boats passed by, with none of the speedboats or ferries of today. (This view is from the elegantly restored palace The Ca D'oro.)


As they continue down the Grand Canal, the towering Rialto Bridge emerges from around a bend. Replacing an ancient wooden bridge, the immense stone structure, completed in 1591, bends at a surprising angle over the water below.


As the Canal winds through the rest of the city, it finally emerges into the Venetian lagoon, crowned by Piazza San Marco.


Surrounded by the elegant colonnades of the Doge's Palace and the Venetian library, there is ornate and impressive architecture on all sides. The entire city is made up of overlapping influences from Turkish and Muslim sources, Gothic, and Roman architecture.


The Campanile soars above the Doge's Palace. It's hard to believe that this tower was built twice! Originally in 1549, and again after its collapse in 1912.


The square is surrounded by the endless Procuratie Vecchie and watched over by the elegant clocktower.


But nowhere exhibits Venice's eclectic architecture better than the incredible Basilica San Marco. With its patchwork of marble, columns, and influences plundered from the Byzantine and Roman empires alike, it eschews simplicity in favor of way-too-muchness. Crowned with Gothic, Byzantine, and Roman arches with glittering gold mosaics and elegant stone relief, it's hard to believe that it was once even showier with it's arched peaks covered in gilding.


If you get tired of the overwhelming architecture, the throngs of tourists (and occasional Venetians) make it a wonderful place or people-watching.


But really, who could get tired of that architecture?


For more of Evan Turk's travel illustration, check out the link below: 

100 Views of the Hudson River Valley



It's been a while since my last post, but I've been busy drawing! Since moving up to the Hudson River Valley, I've been somewhat compulsively making pastel paintings of our new surroundings.


It began with a few small thumbnails, and then grew, day by day from there.



It's amazing what living surrounded by nature allows you to notice.


And on the river, the changes happen minute by minute.

 


Sometimes it's hard to stop drawing because by the time one drawing is finished, there's another one waiting outside! This is a small selection of the pastel paintings over the past few months.




There's a freedom that comes with being able to observe the same general scene over and over. It allows for abstraction, naturalism, and exaggeration to come and go.


I'm looking forward to seeing where this new inspiration takes me.


And now that spring is finally here, everything changes once again!



To see more, follow me on Instagram: @evanturkart

The last of 2016!


It's almost 2017 and this year has been quite a crazy one! Chris and I recently moved up to the Hudson Valley, so it's been a great period of adjustment getting used to the new house. With not quite as much time to draw, and no scanner hooked up until now, I decided to condense the last few months into one big finale for 2016!


This timeline also chronicles our slow descent into winter...These first drawings are from a lovely day of drawing with Audrey Hawkins back in September.



For the next couple months, each warm day felt like the last warm day we would ever have, so everyone, including me, was out trying to take advantage of the sunshine.



The city always feels so full on these warm days.


I loved this grouping of 2 mostly naked young people sunbathing next to a nun, all enjoying the park.


It still felt like summer until the sun went behind the buildings and everyone started putting their coats on over their sleeveless shirts.


A couple weeks later, as fall had begun to set in, Audrey, Chris and I had another nice day drawing out in Central Park.


The colors were beautiful, but the day not quite as luxurious as it had already started getting dark depressingly early.


Up in Croton-on-Hudson, I decided to grab a few hours on a warm day, in between renovating, to draw the new house before it got too cold. A huge and exciting project!


 In the Hudson Valley, summer was fading, but the fall leaves were just getting started.


It was so magical getting to see the leaves change and fall over the weeks, and watching how the light and colors changed.


Our friend and fellow artist Julia Sverchuk came up to visit and we went out to Fishkill Farm to enjoy a not-quite-so-warm fall day.




It was chilly, but people were still out and about, stretching their legs before the looming hibernation.


Chris and I went out for a brisk day up north drawing at Staatsburg State Historic Site, where we got married last June. The wind got a little intense on the river, so we made it a short day.


November brought the harrowing election (you can read more about my thoughts here) and less time drawing out in the cold.

And finally winter came with our first snow in the new house! The whole neighborhood looked like a Christmas card.


So now the year is almost over, and we have a strange new 2017 to anticipate. 2016 was definitely a year of change, but I am still hopeful for the new year.


Best wishes to all of you for the new year! See you in 2017!

Italy: Cinque Terre


After Florence, we traveled to Italy's western Ligurian coast to see the famed Cinque Terre villages, a series of five impossibly quaint villages dotting the rocky coastline. We stayed outside the industrial hub of the area, La Spezia, overlooking the Golfo dei Poeti (Gulf of Poets), where poets and artists (including Lord Byron!) have come for centuries to absorb the beauty. Our first night, we went to Porto Venere, an honorary "sixth village" of the Cinque Terre, at the tip of a peninsula. Less secluded than the "Cinque", but also less touristed, it was wonderful to spend time in this charming and beautiful town.


It felt more like a beach town for Italian tourists, rather than the international hotspot that the Cinque Terre have become. It was fun watching the Italian families gather, nap, chat, and relax under the shady, seaside trees.


A nearby wedding brought glamorously dressed guests, mixing with the older locals who sat and watched the sea and the visitors pass by.


We enjoyed a perfect sunset over the marina as boats bobbed in the tide and seagulls soared overhead.


The next day, it was on to Manarola, one of the Cinque Terre villages. It's not hard to see why the towns are so heavily touristed, as you see the gorgeous, brightly-colored houses tumble down impossibly steep streets into the lapping waves of a grotto at the seas edge.


Up the inclines, the town dissolves into sweeping hills of vineyards that surround the city.


The bustling town during the day is a far cry from its quaint, isolated former days as crowds of foreign tourists pour in every hour on the trains.


Although Manarola is without a true beach, dozens of sun-worshippers plop themselves out on the hot, steep pavement near the grotto to soak up the rays. Chris and I dubbed it "walrus-ing".


Both men and women donned their teeniest bathing suits to display their tanned and toned physiques. No complaints!


As the sun set, the crowds began to thin, the walruses departed, and the town began to feel small and cut off from the modern world again. I made this last drawing inside the grotto, perched on a rock as I watched a group of girls swimming and jumping from the cliffs into the water below. What a magical place!

This post is part of a series of travel illustration from a three week tour of Italy. For more of Evan Turk's travel illustration, check out the link below: 

Italy: The Duomo of Florence


Florence, the capital of the Tuscany region, is almost more impressive than beautiful. While other cities, like Siena or Venice, are breathtaking in their elegance, the architecture of Florence feels somewhat austere and almost macho. Its crown jewel, the Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore is jaw-droppingly massive. Adorned with Brunelleschi's incredible dome, it makes for a soaring spectacle.



One can easily imagine the overwhelming awe and fear that pilgrims centuries ago must have felt upon seeing a building of this grandeur. Even today, I couldn't stop exclaiming just how HUGE the cathedral feels. From certain angles, it appears more like an entire city than a single building.


Today's pilgrims help themselves to dozens of selfies, trying to fit the whole building into the frame.

  

It is an incredible feat of engineering. As you move around the building, the distances and angles are so immense that it feels like it moves along with you.

 

The locals seem to be a mix of refined, fashionable, artsy types, and faces that populated the paintings of the great Florentine Renaissance painters.


But as the sun begins to set, and the crowds of day trippers disperse, the light transforms the architecture and makes you understand the beauty that inspired the bravado of the city.

This post is part of a series of travel illustration from a three week tour of Italy. For more of Evan Turk's travel illustration, check out the link below: 
Evan Turk Travel Illustration

Italy: Tuscany


Ahh Tuscany! From Rome we drove north towards the Val D'Orcia, a UNESCO World Heritage Site in the Tuscany region with rolling hills and regiments of spire-like cypresses punctuating the hillsides.


On the way to where we were staying, we planned to visit the town of Marta for a spring festival called La Barrabata. After a series of delays, we arrived in Marta just as the parade made it's last turn through the center of town. I drew frantically as the procession got swallowed up by the crowd following it. Only men marched in the parade, most with straw hats and plaid handkerchiefs, with floats displaying the fruits of their trades (fish, fruit, bread, cheese, vegetables, buffalo, sheaves of wheat). Women threw rose petals from the overlooking balconies as the crowds made their way up the hillside to the church.

With some help from an older local man, we made our way up to the church at the very top of the hill to find that the entire procession was now displayed for viewing behind the church. There were elaborate, flower-covered floats with tiny fountains, white buffalo, sheep, and hundreds of people celebrating. Just as I started to draw, the clouds that had been building emptied into a steady downpour. After trying to wait it out, we eventually joined the umbrella-ed masses descending the slope. I suppose when traveling you are always supposed to leave something undone, so there is a reason to come back! Next time!


It was rainy on and off for most of our stay, but that just made the landscapes more dramatic. We hadn't expected it to be so green and lush! It was amazing to see the dark thunderstorms roll over the towns and hills in the distance.


There is so much beauty, big and small. The roads are lined with tiny, delicate paper poppies and dramatic rows of cypresses.


We learned that some of the cypresses in the area date back to the 11th century when they were planted along the pilgrimage routes Via Roma and Via Francigena that led through the area between Canterbury and Rome. The trees were seen as pillars to the heavens because of their vertical nature. Many of the farmhouses sit on hilltops and were lookout posts to aid travelers as the route was often plagued by robbers and thieves.


Built by Aeneas Silvius Piccolomini, also known as Pope Pius II, Pienza was constructed in 1459 as the Piccolomini's idea of the ideal Renaissance town. After being there, it's not a stretch! It has gorgeous piazzi, palazzi, and narrow cobblestone streets. The air is full of the cooing of wood pigeons and clanging bells, and the smell of delicious pecorino toscano cheese.


The city is surrounded by a walled walkway with incredible panoramic views of the Val D'Orcia. Layer after layer of hills, cypresses, villas and towns that disappear and blend into the rolling storms.


In the center of the town is the beautiful duomo, a very early Renaissance cathedral. We were there on a Sunday, so locals from the region were out in full force along with the tourists to enjoy the beautiful day. There was even a woman playing the flute under the colonnade as I was making the drawing above.


It's always nice to be able to draw the locals when traveling. People's faces in Italy often feel like they came straight out of a Renaissance painting.


On one excursion, we visited a nearby natural hot spring, or acqu calda, named Fosso Bianco. After a short walk down the hill through the woods, you can smell the sulfurous mineral baths as you approach. Steaming mineral water pours down over the enormous, white calcium-covered terraces as people collect in the various pools to bask in the warmth.


On our last day, we left the Tuscany countryside for Florence, but made a stop in Siena, one of the most beautiful cities in the area. The medieval city boasts unique, rich architecture, the Piazza del Campo where the famous Palio horse race occurs (next time!), and a striking striped cathedral. After only a couple hours, it was onto Florence, but we will definitely be returning to Siena!

This post is part of a series of travel illustration from a three week tour of Italy. For more of Evan Turk's travel illustration, check out the link below: 

Olives of Gethsemane



For the start of the new year, I thought I'd post some drawings I did near the beginning of last year from my trip to Israel. Outside the walls of Jerusalem lies the Garden of Gethsemane, a grove of ancient olive trees said to be the same trees Jesus prayed beneath the night before his crucifixion.


Whether or not these could really be the same trees is up for debate. The trunks of three of the trees have been dated as old as 1092, 1166, and 1198 CE. Nearly one thousand years old, but not old enough to have witnessed times during the life of Jesus. It is said that when the Romans conquered Jerusalem in 70 AD, they cut down every tree in the area.


But olive trees have a miraculous ability of perseverance and regeneration. Beneath the thousand year old trunks lie even more ancient roots. Some say that the roots may be over two thousand years old.


Olive trees can regenerate themselves from their roots, even after fire, destruction, and decay. Despite the hollow, scarred trunks, the new life in the branches springs from the life of the ancient roots.


Olive branches are a symbol of peace, but also of the essence that survives hardship and renews itself.


So here's to a brand new year, with the possibility of healing, growth, and new life!

Happy 2015! 

For more of Evan Turk's travel illustration, check out the link below: 
Evan Turk Travel Illustration

Grandfather Gandhi: Behind the Scenes


With the Grandfather Gandhi publicity train out of the station, I thought it would be fun to share some of the preparatory work and drawings from the very early stages of the book! We have been receiving wonderful reviews so far, even being named as a possible Caldecott 2015 book by Betsy Bird over at Fuse 8, who does annual predictions for the Caldecott/Newbery awards. She also wrote a beautiful review of the book, and really understood everything Bethany, Arun, and I wanted the book to do. So gratifying!


Once I had been offered a chance to illustrate the book, by Ann Bobco and Namrata Tripathi at Atheneum/Simon & Schuster, they asked to see some samples of how I would illustrate the book and the characters. 


Above were the first character sketches, where I played around with the idea of using fabric and thread in the illustrations as a way of referencing the spinning wheel in the story, and Gandhi's political movement for India to free itself from Britain by spinning their own cotton thread and fabric, instead of submitting to high British taxes.


This idea then became a major symbol throughout the book, with the transformation of the raw unruly cotton into useful yarn mirroring young Arun learning to channel his anger.


After I had been given the okay to illustrate the book, it was time to research and search for things in the manuscript to emphasize in the art. In notes on the margins, the idea of shadows and spinning as symbols throughout the book came out.


The idea of shadows showing Arun's emotional state throughout the book, came out of the thumbnail in the upper right-hand corner of the manuscript, with Arun literally standing in his grandfather's shadow (which ended up in the final book, too).


I then had a lot of fun playing around with colors, shapes, and patterns from Indian miniature paintings, textiles, and shadow puppets, to figure out the final look of the art. It's interesting for me to look back and see which things made the cut (the fabric, shadows, colors, etc...) and which things didn't (namely the patterned sky I seemed very fond of in the beginning).


 I wandered around the city picking drawing, and working out different ideas. In the drawing above, I was at the Bronx Botanical Garden, studying how plants were depicted in Indian miniature paintings.


I even came across a man on the subway who looked exactly like Gandhi (above)! 


The sketches got closer to the final look of the book as I started playing around with tea-staining the paper (with 100% "genuine" Indian chai! The final collages do smell nicely spiced...).


I was also able to see how the warm background enriched the already vibrant colors in the concentrated watercolors.


Finally, everything came together into the finished collage illustrations for the book! What an amazing project to work on. You can read more posts about the art in this book at the official site, GrandfatherGandhi.com, here: The Art of Grandfather Gandhi

Grandfather Gandhi


Today is the release date for my first children's book, 'Grandfather Gandhi'! Written by Mahatma Gandhi's grandson, Arun Gandhi, and author Bethany Hegedus, it is the story of a young boy learning to use his anger to create change, with the guidance of his monumental grandfather.


The book has been a dream job, especially for my first job out of school, and it's so wonderful to finally have it out in the world!

Below is the book trailer with narration from authors Arun and Bethany, music by Ustad Ghulam Farid Nizami, and animation and illustration by yours truly!


(Trailer also available on YouTube)

The reviews so far have been wonderful, including a starred review from both Kirkus Reviews and Publishers Weekly! Here are a few quotes about the art from early reviews:

Turk mixes carefully detailed renderings with abstracted expressions of emotional struggle, achieving a powerful balance. - See more at: http://books.simonandschuster.com/Grandfather-Gandhi/Arun-Gandhi/9781442423657#sthash.kCROT9aI.dpuf
"Turk mixes carefully detailed renderings with abstracted expressions of emotional struggle, achieving a powerful balance."
-Booklist, December 2013

"Turk’s complex collages, rich in symbolic meaning and bold, expressive imagery, contribute greatly to the emotional worldbuilding."
-Kirkus Review, starred review

"Turk’s illustrations are stylized, strikingly patterned, and rendered in contrasting purples and golds, blues and creams, blacks and whites, highlighting the tension between anger and peace. Dynamic visuals and storytelling create a rousing family story that speaks to a broad audience."
-Publishers Weekly, starred review


Also, check out the site for the book GrandfatherGandhi.com where you can read posts about the book, its creation, and its themes from myself and the two authors. You can also take a Pledge inspired by the message in the book, to Live Your Life As Light.


More to come soon on this blog about the making of the art and illustrations for Grandfather Gandhi!

 (Atheneum/Simon & Schuster)

Israel: Jerusalem: The Church of the Holy Sepulchre


My next three days of drawing in Jerusalem were at three of the most important holy sites for Christianity, Judaism, and Islam. These three religions were all born out of Jerusalem, and throughout the past several thousand years, each of them has claimed and reclaimed holy sites all throughout the city. Mosques, churches, synagogues, and religious pilgrimage sites of all kinds were built right on top of each other as the ruling powers changed. For instance, above the tomb of Biblical Hebrew leader King David is the hall of Jesus’ Last Supper, and above that is the dome and crescent of the E-Nebi Daud mosque, from Ottoman rule (which is now drawing controversy with its possible conversion into a synagogue).


My first stop in my own pilgrimage around Jerusalem was to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, one of the holiest sites in Christianity, where Jesus is said to have been crucified, buried, and resurrected. Christian pilgrims from all over the world come to follow the road of the Stations of the Cross through Jerusalem, to reenact Jesus’ final hours, culminating in a visit to the Church.
 

The church is dark and filled with echoes. Smoke from incense and candles hangs in the air, and people wander through the various shrines of each denomination of Catholicism present in the winding church. Up a narrow staircase to the right of the entrance is Golgotha, where it is believed that Jesus was crucified. From up over the entrance, you can see the streams of pilgrims entering and winding their way through the maze-like church.


Here, pilgrims wait in line to enter a small shrine on their knees, underneath a flat silver Jesus on the cross, to pray. Nearby, dozens of candles are lit in prayer, and collected by the priests as they basins fill up.


What interested me most was the different ways in which people worshipped upon entering the church. The most popular was the Stone of Anointing, where it is believed that Jesus was laid and prepared for burial. Pilgrims wipe the stone with oil, kiss it, put their forehead to it, lay their hands on it, and anoint themselves with the oil.


Some delicately touched the surface with their fingertips, while another was using her kerchief to wipe up every bit of oil, dabbing between and mopping up in between the cracks. Another woman I saw took about a dozen souvenirs she had bought and rubbed each one on the stone to bring back home. There were all different styles, but everyone seemed very intent on making sure they came away with a bit of the holiness rubbed off on them.


Around the church, people stop in front of various places and portraits, crossing themselves, kneeling to pray, and often reciting prayers from their iPhones.


Olive-wood crosses are ubiquitous and often you can see people deep in thought simply smiling and stroking the cross.


 There is a solemnity and compulsiveness to the way people proceed through the space, like they are moved by magnets.


Orthodox priests glide through the halls like big chess pieces, sometimes chanting and wafting smoke out of lanterns.


 In the central rotunda is the Aedicule, which houses the Tomb of Jesus. Long lines form outside the tiny entrance for people to go inside and pray, as outside pilgrims light candles.


Unlike the Stone of Anointing, where people seek to take something away, the glowing lines of candles around the shrines were all left behind as burning prayers. The site of the church itself felt secondary to the constant flow of the exchange, with each person taking something with them and leaving something behind.

For more of Evan Turk's travel illustration, check out the link below: 


Life Drawing



I just finished an amazing workshop with Dalvero Academy, drawing from the model for four days straight. It doesn't get any better than great teachers, great friends, great models, and tons of drawing! It's always a great place to explore and try new things. Here are a few of the drawings from last weekend.






Bethesda Terrace: Part 2


On today, which is hopefully the coldest day of the year, I decided to go back and think warm thoughts and look at warm drawings from the heat of summer. Above, is a drawing of the Winter seasonal landscape lining one of the staircases at Bethesda Terrace in Central Park, where I spent a few weeks this summer drawing and painting with pastels (See Part 1 Here). The birds look a little stressed and cold, I think.
But that's enough winter!


Let's all just think nice warm thoughts...of weeping willows, laying in the grass, and sun-dappled reflections on the water...


...of running outside in the early morning, gentle breezes (with no wind chill) rustling the leaves...


...relaxing in a gondola as the water, trees, and clouds drift by...


...and listening to the resonant sounds of strings and choral voices echoing through the warm, dewy air.


Above is the seasonal birdscape for Summer...don't they look happy and relaxed?
Let's keep that mindset going...


(One of the many benefits of working from home, is that on a day like today, I can do as the cats do: Curl up in a too-small shipping box near the radiator and pass out.)

Magnolias and Mosaics



Recently, my boyfriend Chris and I took our first mosaic class with Yakov and Angele Hanansen at Unicorn Art Studio. The two have been doing large scale mosaics for over 30 years, and were kind, insightful, and extremely knowledgeable teachers. Both Chris and I have become addicted and can't wait to do more!


This piece was based on a drawing I did this spring (above) at the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens when the magnolia trees were in full bloom, dropping their thick, fleshy petals onto the newly sprouting grass. Behind them, hillsides of daffodils glittered in the distance. It felt like a big quilt of different patterns, colors, and textures. I then turned that drawing into the design for the mosaic, below.


The process of translating a drawing into hundreds of cut pieces of stained glass is extremely meditative.


It forced my mind to think in new ways about drawing, because in a mosaic, everything must be considered. The color, size, shape, and direction of every piece and pattern is important. Intention is everything.




I had a lot of fun creating different patterns, and layering and weaving different marks and colors throughout the image.


Finally, the act of grouting was a very nerve-wracking, but exciting, and transformational experience. After working on putting the pieces together for many, many hours over 2 months, you have to smear the dark grout over all of your hard work. Then you wipe it off and see how everything has been transformed by filling in the gaps. I was surprised by how much the image changed!



Above is a little video I put together of all of the progress shots, showing the growth of the mosaic.

 

And now, finally, it is home, hanging proudly in our living room. I can't wait to start the next one!

Animal Kingdom


My favorite park in DisneyWorld is always Animal Kingdom. Having dreamed of going to the African Serengeti since I was little, Disney gives me a little taste of it to hold me over until I can go see the real thing. There is something about the art, the music, the landscape, the culture, and the animals of Africa that feels rhythmic, honest, and full of personality.

The sable antelope is the symbol of the Harambe Wildlife Preserve, where the safari tours take place.

Wildebeest nap in the shade, a mother elephant and her baby stroll past a baobab tree, and okapi and bongos hide amongst the leaves in the forest.

Giraffes lope gracefully along the open hills.

Hippos bob like corks in the river.

Rhinos, zebra, and ostriches dot the grasslands in a vibrating tapestry.

Deeper in the forest, the shy okapi nibble on leaves.

Brilliant yellow weaver birds flicker through the dense canopy.

Blue cichlids glow in the cool, shady riverbed.


The Launch of the Charles W. Morgan


“Human beings have always celebrated resurrection, restoration, renewal and return.
The only thing greater than the miracle of life itself can sometimes seem to be
the miracle of something brought back to life…"
 Ric Burns, Mystic Seaport, July 21, 2013


This July 21st, the 172nd anniversary of the Charles W. Morgan’s first voyage, the last wooden whaleship in the world was lowered back into the Mystic River after 5 years of painstaking restoration.

I have been documenting the restoration of the Morgan with Dalvero Academy since 2009, so it was a very exciting day for us to be able to witness and document her return to the water. Our show, Restoring a Past, Charting a Future, will still be on view at Mystic Seaport through this September.


We arrived the day before to see her out on dry land one last time, this time perched at the edge of the pier on her stilts.


The Morgan boasted a fresh new paint job since our last visit, with numbers on her bow that we knew would soon be submerged in the river. 

 

Most of the ship we had drawn and explored for 4 years would soon be gone, and I couldn’t help feeling a bit of melancholy along with the excitement.

 


The next morning, we arrived early to see the set-up, only to be greeted by giant storm clouds and intermittent downpours. We huddled inside sheds, under overhangs, and under the tents watching as the ship’s crew prepared for the day ahead.


The crew toasted her rebirth with a swig of rum, and then passed the bottle to us, like part of the team.

 

Finally the clouds parted, and crowds began to fill every corner of the shipyard. 


Quentin Snediker, the head of the shipyard and our guide through the restoration process, attended to the preparations with stoic calm.


More and more spectators filtered in, buzzing with anticipation.


State troopers surrounded the center platform as curious kayakers began to flock around the river to watch the ceremony.


The speeches began with the president of Mystic Seaport, Stephen C. White, as he proclaimed the magnitude and the significance of the Morgan’s next journey.


Camera crews swirled as the dignitaries gave their speeches, with the keynote from documentary filmmaker, Ric Burns.


The honor of the christening of the ship was given to Sarah Bullard, the great-great-great granddaughter of Charles W. Morgan himself.


Bullard’s granddaughter, little Polly Morgan and her family waved to her from the crowd. She will be the next generation to inherit the Morgan and her legacy.


The snowy haired duo, Quentin Snediker and Sarah Bullard, stood beneath crowning bow of the ship, like proud parents sending their daughter off into the world.


The ship would be christened with water from each of the seas the Morgan sailed, and a drop of rum for luck.


With a crash, Bullard inaugurated the Morgan's descent into the water, and a cheer erupted from the shipyard and the river.


We all watched as she began to disappear into the river, and I noticed Quentin looking on. Only he and the shipwrights could know the thousands of hours and hands that went into carefully shaping each timber and plank of wood that now disappeared beneath the water, gently cradling the ship and keeping her afloat. At the end of her slow descent, the numbers on her bow vanished, one by one into the water. As the '9' broke the surface, the call went out "She is afloat!" and again the crowd burst into raucous applause.


As she went beneath the water, I imagined all the hands and souls that left their mark and went down with her. I watched her there, half submerged, hoping that the generations to come will know how far her depths reach below that water.


Monet's Gardens


 

The next stop for drawing after the Canson Prix was to Monet's Gardens in Giverny, about 45 minutes outside of Paris. My mom, Chris, and I took the train out to the country early in the morning and spent the whole day wandering around the house and the extravagant grounds that Monet created.


Outside the house, the gardens are so thick with flowers that it's hard to find the paths in between the flowerbeds. From fence to fence, there are irises in every shade of purple and yellow, as big as grapefruits, peonies the size of basketballs, and poppies bigger than dinner plates resting on the ground because their comparatively puny stems can't support them.


It is a wonderland for an impressionist, with every color, mark, and shape imaginable, crammed into a beautiful plot on the French countryside.


With each flower more spectacular than the next, it was hard to focus on one thing for very long. I felt like one of the lucky Giverny honey bees flitting from flower to flower, trying my best not to sting any dazed, ambling tourists that got in my way.

 

Every once in a while a single flower happened to jump out.


Compared to the rowdy mob of flowers near the house, each shouting for attention, Monet's famous waterlily pond was like a quiet conversation between friends about how pretty they all are.


The tranquil pond, ringed with weeping willows and irises, and dotted with lilies and baby ducklings, is like a fairytale (stuffed with as many tourists as can possibly fit). It is easy to see how Monet could have spent the last years of his life needing nothing but to contemplate the little oasis he created for himself.




The Eiffel Tower


While in Paris for the Prix Canson 2013, Chris and I took a few extra days to go draw around Paris. One of our nicest days was spent relaxing in the shade of the gardens around the Eiffel Tower. The Tower is so perfectly Parisian, like all of the wrought iron balconies from the buildings of Paris decided to get together and make a building of their own.


I love having a park around the Tower. It would be nice if 34th St in Manhattan were a gorgeous planted promenade in front of the Empire State Building, built so we could all laze around and marvel at it.


We stayed there the whole day, watching the the color shift across the Tower as the sun drifted closer to the horizon and sank behind the trees.



Prix Canson 2013



I just returned from a wonderful trip to Paris as one of 39 nominees for the international competition, Le Prix Canson. The Prix is sponsored by Canson, a leading paper company since 1557, to promote emerging artists working with paper.


I was honored to be nominated as the artist for Canson USA, and thrilled to be able to be in Paris for the awards ceremony and exhibition at the Petit Palais, Musée des Beaux-Arts de la Ville de Paris. A big thank you to Robert Toth and Giulia Giovanelli and everyone at Canson for the nomination and all of the arrangements.

Chris and I arriving for the reception at the Petit Palais. Photo by Mom (not pictured).
My drawing, above, from my reportage of a zelij tile workshop in Fes, Morocco, was part of the exhibit.
 

Although I didn't win the prize, the winner was Zimbabwean artist Virginia Chihota, it was wonderful to be able to enjoy the beautiful reception in the courtyard at night, and see my work on the wall in the museum. The Petit Palais is one of the most beautiful buildings I've seen in Paris. Designed for the 1900 Universal Exposition in Paris, it is in the Art Nouveau style with (somewhat) toned-down and elegant decoration compared to a lot of Parisian grandeur.


In the days around the event, Chris and I took some time to relax and draw in the Tuileries Gardens, near the Louvre.


We sipped fresh-squeezed orange juice and café crème while watching the Parisians and tourists lounge languidly under the dappled shade of the square-cropped chestnut trees. Ahh Paris!


The girl at the table next to us puffed lazily on her cigarette, scrawled dramatically into her notebook, and personified perhaps dozens of French artist stereotypes at once. My hunch is that she was an American college student studying abroad.


It was a wonderful experience, and so magical to be in Paris in June. Every single iris was in bloom! Stay tuned for more drawings from the rest of my trip!


Spring in Mystic Seaport



Two weekends ago, I was able to return to Mystic Seaport with Dalvero Academy to take advantage of the spring weather. It was so nice to wander around the seaport and simply enjoy the beauty of it.

 

The river rippled under the groaning weight of the tall-ships, and parted as candy-colored sailboats slipped through the waves. Men and women bellowed work songs as they climbed into the rigging and hoisted the sails.


Boats tied to the piers creaked and swayed against the dock.

 

The work on the last wooden whaleship in the world, The Charles W. Morgan, nears completion as workers hammered and slathered the outside hull with paint before returning her to the water in July.


The salty air fluttered through the branches, tinkling the newly sprouted leaves like wind chimes, and washing away the winter chill.