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

Heartbeat

I am very proud to be a part of the new Dalvero Academy exhibition Journey of Transformation that just opened at Mystic Seaport this past weekend. This exhibit is a follow up to our previous show at the Seaport a few years ago, and is focused around the 38th Voyage of the Charles W. Morgan, the last wooden whaleship in the world, and it's new message of education and conservation. There is incredible and inspiring work by 29 artists, and I am honored to be one of them!

Part of my contribution to the show is an animation called "Heartbeat". This animated short follows the life of a baby whale whose mother is killed during the heyday of American whaling in the 19th century. It continues through our destructive relationship with whales over the decades, using the bodies of whales for everything from illuminants, to industrial lubricant, to food. As our perceptions of whales, and our relationship with them changes, a new song of empathy and compassion is formed to sail forward into a more hopeful future.

You can view the animation below:


I hope you will go and check out the show if you are in the area!

I was fortunate enough to be on the Morgan's 38th Voyage last summer (you can read about my experience here). The wonderful composer for this animation was a fellow 38th Voyager, Gary Wikfors. He composed and performed all the music for this piece using an octaveharpa, nyckelharpa, tenor mandola, octave mandola, mandocello, and mandolin. What an experience it was working with a real composer! I couldn't be more grateful for his dedication and beautiful work.

Summer!


It's been a while since my last post, but there have been many wonderful exciting things happening! First, at the end of June, I got married! It was amazing and surreal, and feels like a beautiful dream already. In between the relaxing on our honeymoon in Provincetown, I did a few thumbnails of a sunset that was too amazing not to draw.




In less romantic but still exciting news, my reportage of Jerusalem was a part of an international exhibition of reportage illustration for the Reportager Award at the University of the West of England. So wonderful to be included and to see reportage work being appreciated!


I am also very honored to be representing Dalvero Academy and Canson on one of a new plein air drawing pads, all featuring Dalvero Artists! So exciting! My drawing is on the Illustration pad, with the beautiful work of Margaret Hurst on Canva Paper, Julia Sverchuk on Mixed Media, and Veronica Lawlor on watercolor. So exciting! Go check them out!


 There's also a blurb about Dalvero Academy on the inside cover!


And finally, in a sneak preview, I just received the first round of printed proofs from my upcoming book The Storyteller!


Can't wait to share the whole book with everyone! Many exciting things to come!

Winter at Mystic Seaport & Ezra Jack Keats Honor



It's been a while since my last post, but I've been busy finishing up the artwork for my next children's book! It is my first book as author and illustrator, called The Storyteller, due out in 2016 (more to come soon)! I'm also thrilled to announce that I received the Ezra Jack Keats Award Honor for New Illustrator for Grandfather Gandhi! Keats was an incredible illustrator, and I am so honored to be in his company in this way.


I also had the chance to go back up to Mystic Seaport with Dalvero Academy this past weekend, for a snowy and beautiful couple of days. The first day was COLD, so my hands only emerged for brief amounts of time before I ran back inside. The Charles W. Morgan looked like an ice-stranded Arctic vessel in the frozen Mystic River.


This was our first time seeing Mystic Seaport's newest acquisition, the Mayflower II! Built in 1957, it is a historical replica of the original Mayflower, created in England as a symbol of partnership between our two countries after WWII. She's an odd looking ship, but a lot of fun to draw! I'm looking forward to learning more about her as the restoration continues.


The next day we were treated to the most beautiful snowstorm, with snowflakes the size of butterflies settling over the quaint New England houses. A small flock of hooded mergansers (some of the most adorable little ducks) flitted all over the frozen river.


As the snow cleared away, all of the color began to return to the landscape.


Blue sky and sunlight finally broke through the clouds.


Still trapped in the ice, The Morgan seemed like it was coming to life too.


Hopefully this is a sign that spring can't be too far off, and the ice will be melting soon.

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

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

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.)

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!


Morocco: The Desert

 

Our final excursion out of Fes was to the Sahara near the border with Algeria. From Fes, it was a 9 hour drive to the dunes through some of the most amazing landscapes I've ever seen. We passed through Mediterranean rolling hills, an Atlas cedar forest, a French ski village, a whirling dust storm, one of the world's largest oases, and a high desert plateau surrounded by soaring peaks that were about to receive their first snow of the year.

We arrived at our hotel after a long drive across a desolate black plateau in the middle of a sand storm. We could barely see 5 feet on either side of the car, and even then it was only parched black earth. Our hosts came out to help us scramble inside as the blowing sand proceeded to wedge itself into every mouth, eye, ear, and otherwise.

 

 

After a tasty meal, our hosts treated us to some Berber drumming and we turned in for the night as the sandstorm blew on.

We awoke to a serene breeze through the window, and the wall of blowing black sand outside had settled to reveal endless golden dunes only 20 feet away. We ate a quick breakfast and went out to start our journey.

 

We met our two camels, one brown was brown and wooly and the other beige with a nose ring. Of course we named them after our brown and beige cats at home, Bert and Pica (We eagerly asked the camel drivers if they already had names, he answered "No. They are camels.").

The back view of Chris on the camel in front of me.

 After a long, beautiful camel ride through the martian landscape (through which the blustering wind and camel jostling made drawing close to impossible), we settled into our Berber campsite for the night, hoping to see the amazing starry skies you can only see when you're miles from civilization.

Pica the camel.

Naturally, as the sun was going down, the storm clouds were rolling in. As we were lying in our tent, trying to sleep through the booming thunder, we began to feel the pitter-patter of rain drops on our faces. The carpet/bamboo roof of our tent was not exactly waterproof, and as the frequency of the drops began to increase, we scrambled our things together and ran into the main tent where we huddled with a nice Australian family under the more substantial roof. We were treated to a torrential downpour in the middle of the Sahara desert as the deluge of water poured into the tent on all sides of our little mattresses in the center.



We didn't end up seeing any stars at all, but I feel like a rainstorm in the Sahara is just as unique of an experience, and we can see the stars the next time. Plus the sunrise the next morning made all the rain worth it, as the dunes that had been faded and shifting yesterday became crisp, solid, and vibrant after the rain.


Morocco: The Blue City


We took a short trip from Fez, through the Rif mountains to the beautiful blue city of Chefchaouen. The small town lies perched on a hillside in a valley surrounded by soaring, jagged peaks.


Since the 1930's, the walls of Chefchaouen's medina have been washed with blue pigment (possibly as a result of Jewish immigrants fleeing Europe). Thick layers of every color of blue imaginable coat the walls and streets of the city.


Because of the sheer cliffs of the Riff mountains, the city is connected by a web of incredibly steep stone staircases, which surprise you with bizarre, twisting, otherworldly views.


Some streets have so many colors at once that they feel like an abstract mosaic instead of a real city.


 Down one long staircase at the edge of the city, you find the Ras el-Maa river trickling down the stone steps into the valley. Here the women do their laundry on huge concrete beds in the river, in some of the most beautiful surroundings you can imagine. I couldn't help but want to draw, even though I felt a little intrusive drawing people just doing their laundry. My broken French was enough to get us through most of Morocco, but here on the eastern coast, they only speak Spanish and Arabic. Not knowing a word of Spanish, I mimed my way into asking whether or not it was okay for me to draw them.

 

Initially they seemed wary, so I contented myself with just drawing the scenery and leaving the women out. The old woman of the group came over and sat next to me while I drew for a while, and smiled as I struggled to ask her questions. Eventually, I successfully gestured my question, and she consented to let me draw them. They went on with their business, laughing and singing together over the sound of the trickling stream and the soft breeze rustling through the hillsides of morning glories.


As I was drawing the teenage girl above, she seemed bashful because she was in her laundry clothes, and the old woman laughed and started asking me something in Spanish. I couldn't understand a word she was saying, or why the girl suddenly started blushing and laughing until I heard the word "matrimonio" pop out. Once I realized she was asking me, jokingly, if I was planning to marry her after such a tender drawing, I blushed and instinctively blurted out "No!". We all burst out laughing, and my cheeks turned more and more red as I frantically tried to make a more diplomatic decline of the offer (I don't think she took it personally).

The view out of our room at Casa La Palma


Our wonderful hosts, Ana and Carlos, at the beautiful bed and breakfast Casa La Palma were originally from Spain (only a couple hours away), and fell in love with Chefchaouen and moved there. With the incredible beauty, the calm, soothing air, and slow, trickling way of life, it's definitely a difficult city to leave.

Morocco: Tile Workshop


While in the city of Fes, we had the wonderful opportunity to tour and draw at the Moroccan architectural decoration workshop of Arabesque (Moresque). While at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, I noticed the brand name in the videos of the construction of the new, very beautiful Moroccan court in their Islamic Art wing. I contacted Arabesque, the creators of the court, and they welcomed us to come and draw in their workshop for a day.



The factory was in the Ville Nouvelle, the modern city outside the medieval medina. It was a sprawling three floor establishment, with the dozen or so zellij tile workers huddled together in one small dusty corner on the first floor.




 The other floors housed incredible in-progress display rooms that were created using modern designs and techniques as well as replicating each individual period of Islamic decoration with perfect attention to detail. The colors, glazes, patterns, and shapes were created using the original period-specific methods. The detail, precision, and beauty were incredible to see. All of the carved plaster, stained glass, intricately painted wood, and zellij tile were all created by the master craftsmen there.


 
 




I spent most of my day watching the workers on the first floor, listening to the repetitive tinkling of the chisels on tile. The incredible amount of work involved in creating just one tiny tile is awe-inspiring when you consider the scope of an entire wall. Each shape must be traced out onto the tile in a white paste, and then every extra piece chiseled away to perfection. The glazed ceramic tiles are held against a cinder-block and tapped precisely and delicately with a surprisingly hefty chisel until it has been chipped into the specific shape to fit into the overall design.

 

Each man had a specific task. One would draw the design onto a tile; some would chisel the raw tiles into large squares;

 

 some chiseled the squares into smaller pieces; 


 

 some chiseled them into even more intricate pieces;

  

some stopped to sharpen their chisels;


 
 
some stenciled designs on tiles and chiseled away scrolling pieces of a larger pattern;


and all together they worked like pieces of a machine to create beautiful, mind-boggling work.
  

It was a wonderful experience to be able to spend the day there, and to see the whole process. Many thanks to Adil M. Naji, the President and CEO of Moresque/Arabesque, for agreeing to have us come and for his wonderful hospitality, and to all of the craftsmen for their warmth, kindness and willingness to let me impose on their work.


Morocco: Jemaa el-Fna and the Halqa


 

 As we headed back to Marrakech, there was one more thing I wanted to find. I had read books about the storytellers of Marrakech, and how this thousand year old tradition was not too slowly fading away. These men turn storytelling into a public art, with a catalog of hundreds of tales to choose from, stored away in their minds, each one shifting and growing depending on their audience. In 2006 it is said that there were less than a dozen storytellers left in Marrakech, and they often getting older with no apprentices. In Marrakech, their stage is The Big Square, Jemaa el-Fna. Here western tourists and Moroccan tourists alike come to see this flurry of energy full of hissing cobras and snake charmers, horse-drawn carriages, apes on chain leashes, water-sellers in flamboyant costumes, and pushy throngs of women doing henna tattoos.

 

At night, the square transforms. As the sun sets behind the Koutoubia minaret, the center of the square unfolds into a series of temporary restaurants with loud auctioneers competing for the attention of the hoards of tourists and locals that flock there at night. Where snake charmers sat before, musicians and performers take their place, and I was hoping, maybe a storyteller.

Smoke from the open flames of the grills fills the air.

We searched all over the square for several nights, behind every orange juice stand and date seller, and on every hidden corner we could find, but we couldn't find a single storyteller. Perhaps we weren't looking for the right things to find them, or perhaps they weren't there that night. What we did find, though, was the lifeblood of the storyteller, the halqa. A halqa is the circle of people that forms around the storyteller (or halaiqi) and other performers.

 

After standing on the edge of a circle of people surrounding some musicians and drawing, they eventually pulled us into the center. Although I couldn't understand the stories he was telling, or the words to the music, I began to feel a part of the halqa. They laughed at my portraits of them, and gave Chris and I some Berber whiskey (mint tea).



We may not have been able to find one of the storytellers, but the feeling of the halqa is one I won't forget. It's a spontaneous connection with people, and you can feel the energy of it and how it feeds both the performers and the audience.

Morocco: On the bus



The bus rides between cities often showed as much about the country as the cities themselves. Groves of olive trees stretched for miles across endless landscapes as men rode by the roadside on donkeys (or in trucks full of donkeys).



While waiting in one of the bus depots with a gaggle of European and Moroccan tourists, we fell in love with a tiny stray kitten (of which Morocco has no shortage) who we named Bertouche (after his American cat uncle Bert). He wandered around the cafe outside mewing and squeaking for food (we gave him some chicken on our way out) and then nestled into a flower pot for a nap.

 



Morocco: The Red City


Our trip began with Marrakech, The Red City. Surrounded by African desert and thick red walls, Marrakech was more foreign even in the approach from the airport than I had been expecting. Because Morocco is so diverse and so close to Europe, I had begun to think before leaving that it would be more like a trip to a European country than an African one, but Marrakech quickly shattered that idea.

In a country as foreign as Morocco, it can often be difficult to break down the barrier between tourist and local: you don't want to be seen as another tourist, and they don't want to be seen as an exotic native. Being blonde and white makes me visible to every salesman from halfway across Morocco, so every person on the street is competing to try to sell something by the time I get there. It's often an overwhelming experience, and one that made us shut down a few times just from the stress of finding a restaurant.


I think that drawing on location often offers a unique experience to be able to interact with people in a different way. Because you are doing something new and exiting, people often drop their usual tourist routine and both groups let down their guard a little. While wandering around in the medina, Chris and I came upon a neighborhood that was completely residential, with not a tourist in sight, but still bustling with people. The walls of the quarter had been freshly washed with "Marrakech Red", and bright red and green flags hung from every building.


As we started to draw, people would smile as they passed, which was very reassuring in an unfamiliar neighborhood. Soon a gaggle of kids began to crowd around us, hopping up to see the drawings and asking to have each one of their portraits drawn. Some men and women came by to peek as well, and one man even shooed some of the kids away to help when he thought they were getting too boisterous. It is one of my fondest memories from Morocco because when you can engage with people on a personal level, where the differences aren't so great, it makes you feel more at home.

We stayed and drew there until sundown, under the latticed roof of the tiny maze-like alleyways, watching people and mopeds pass by, and kittens scamper down the dusty streets and across the rooftops.

Morocco

  
Today I leave for Morocco, and it will be three weeks of new sights, sounds, smells, and tastes. There will be a lot of drawing to come, but first here is a thumbnail I did imagining our camel ride through the Sahara.


'Till I return!

Seasons Changing


This past week we had some spectacular weather in New York, where it already started to feel like fall. I took one crisp, sunny day to go out in Central Park and look at the colors as summer comes to an end. Fall always seems to come and go so quickly, so I always feel much more at ease when I have days I can sit out and appreciate the beautiful change.

 

 

 

Governor's Island: African Film Festival Celebration

The whole scene looked like a quilt, pieced together with vibrant patterns and shapes all moving and flowing together in rhythm to the beat of the drum.

This past weekend I went with a few friends to a celebration for the African Film Festival on Governor's Island. I had never been out there before, but this was a great way to experience the beautiful island for the first time. There was tasty food, huge shady lawns, and a big African dance class with several groups of drummers and choreographers from different places in Africa.

 
Everyone was having a wonderful time letting loose.

The dancers' bodies were moving so fast, my hands could barely keep up.  
One beautiful woman had the face of a lioness, and danced pretty ferociously too.