I get a lot of requests to purchase reproductions of my sketches, as well as original artworks. Most of the sketches that appear on the pages of Just Sketching are available in a high quality printed format. Most reproductions are approximately 8.5 x 11 inches and printed on heavy art paper. Set up with a generous white border, I like to use a wider mat in a 16 x 20 frame.
Unmatted reproductions are reasonably priced at $25, plus $5 for shipping (CONUS only.) If you wish to make a purchase, please use the contact form below. Be sure to indicate the image(s) that interest you. I accept payment through PayPal.
Original drawings and paintings are often generated on commission. However, I seldom sell my original sketchbook work.
16 November, 2016. You heard it here first: I love the funky little hippy joints, those hole-in-the-wall places with both eclectic people and food. OK, most of these places are populated with folks in search of coffee and an endearing seat in which to enjoy their cup. Personally, I hate the stuff, but the places themselves are great for observing a diverse populace.
Keeping things loose – especially the application of paint – is the best part of these sketches for me. After nearly four decades of splashing watercolor around on paper, I finally feel like the paint isn’t fighting with me. Too, the earth tone pigment of the inked line work seems to hold things together, the warmth is much less harsh than the black I use when I sketch with brush pens. (Lamy Safari medium nib fountain pen, Noodler’s Ink (Beaver), watercolor wash, on Strathmore Aquarius II watercolor paper.)
12 November, 2016. Chancing upon a gravel road, I pedaled that path to see where it led, round tight corners bordering Missouri River bluffs and through farmlands pretty and cozy and nestled and hidden. Between fields I rode, flanked by ponds and streams; horses, livestock, and waterfowl were my neighbors, and one cowboy rehearsing with a lariat, a young steer his understudy. Up and over very steep hills, I climbed and panted; my breathing at times labored as my wheels reached each summit. And yet the November air brought forth a growing chill in the waning afternoon light.
I was traveling light, a sketchbook and pen and lead holder my only tools. The colors, though, were wonderful and I regret not bringing along watercolor. (Rural Clay County, Missouri; Kuretake No. 40 brush pen)
6 November, 2016. Well, I ran out of ink almost immediately at yesterday’s Tweed Ride, but I still had my lead holder. I quickly roughed in a few of the people with graphite, and inked them this morning with a Lamy Safari fountain pen. I debated about adding color throughout the entire thing. Maybe I’ll do so, but I kind of like the unfinished look. (Lamy Safari medium nib fountain pen, Noodler’s Ink, Strathmore Aquarius II watercolor paper; Kansas City, Missouri.)
5 October, 2016. This year’s Tweed Ride was fun, but just a wee bit disappointing. Why? Well, I sure wish there had been more vintage bikes on hand – other than my own, of course. Modern bikes and dress up. Hmmm.
I do look forward to this event though. It’s fun to get out and ride one of my vintage bikes, get all duded up in something resembling period attire, and join a group of others of similar mind. This annual ride is sort of turning into a hip, fashiony event. But still cool. Folks are out on bikes, enjoying themselves and the day.
My bike of choice today was a 1946 Hobbs of Barbican. It’s a fixed wheel time trial bike. Staying true to the form of the time I was dressed head to toe in black as British time trialists would have done in the 30’s and 40’s. (An alpaca jacket would have been required – which I don’t have. Fortunately, it was a warm day so no harm, no foul.)
I arrived early, hoping to get in some sketching. Unfortunately, I found out the damn ink was running low in my pen.
Well crap. Guess I’ll just ride my bike.
(Pentel Pocket Brush Pen in Canson 180 sketchbook; Kansas City, Missouri.)
30 October, 2016. Fall is official. The leaves are falling. The air is cool (at least for today, anyway…the rest of this week promises to be unseasonably warm.) The oak mites are in full force.
I’ve been enjoying a three day weekend, and with a busy week of teaching headed my way it was important for me to squeeze in a few minutes of sketchbook time.
Heading out by bike to soak up the sweater weather, I tossed a sketchbook and Pentel Pocket Brush Pen into my bag. I intentionally kept things simple to avoid any temptation to overwork the drawings. Sketch it, ink it, next.
There’s a somewhat Zen-like moment in the sketchbook, when I establish an inner peace and calm. The world tends to otherwise disappear. Nothing else matters except the stroke of the brush.
Pentel Pocket Brush Pen in Canson 180 sketchbook, rural Clay County, Missouri.
26 October, 2016. Twenty-two days? It’s been twenty-two days since even a single stroke of my pen or brush has kissed the page of my sketchbook. One of the great ironies about being an artist who teaches is that there are times when one spends far more teaching art than making art. This week, my drawing students are wrapping up a self-portraiture assignment I call the “Renaissance Selfie.” I ask students to imagine they’ve been transported via time machine to the time of the Renaissance.
By researching works of the Italian and Dutch Renaissance, my kids learn how some of our most famous artworks came about. They look closely at the hair, the garb, the treatment of light, the facial expressions. And they begin to figure out how to plan and craft a drawing. I take them through the process of combining their own features with those referenced in a master’s work. (I chose Rembrandt.) Although my demonstration drawing is the product of a single class period, at least I get the opportunity to draw!
The prompt for this assignment is a fun premise: to imagine you’ve been transported back in time to a specific age and location – to Rembrandt’s neighborhood, for example. EVERYONE wants to fit in, right? But those blue jeans and t-shirt you are wearing right now will make you stand out as…odd. “If you wanted to fit in, how would you have to change your appearance?” I ask them. So imagine how you would have to modify your appearance in order to fit into that time, place, and culture. This is a great way to bring up conversations about history, context, art techniques (like chiaroscuro and classical portraiture, for instance.)
School isn’t in session this Friday, so I’ve got a three-day weekend in which to make up for having abandoned my sketchbook these last few weeks. It’s about time. (6B graphite stick and pencil on Arches paper.)
3 October, 2016. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed (re)building this bike back up, and putting in some wonderful mileage. As the days grow shorter, time and opportunity to be outdoors with my sketchbook have been more and more limited. This sketch, in fact, was quickly drawn from a chair in my studio yesterday evening. (Lamy Safari medium nib fountain pen.)
24 September, 2016. It’s that time of year: the weather takes a turn toward the cool, summer is at an end, and the smell of cotton candy and funnel cakes waft in on the breeze as the carnival comes to town. Working in my Canson 180 sketchbook, I quickly drafted this sketch of the funnel cake place. I love the kitchiness of these things – the gaudy color, the sell, sell, sell-ness, the flags and banners and diversity of typefaces…it’s all so typical of carnival fare. And how easily we adults slip back into the days of our youth!
I’d thought to make a full color version of this drawing – something a bit tighter than a sketch. But after cutting out the paper and starting on the sketch, something stopped me. Laziness? Could be. But there’s something a bit earthier, grittier about this black and white that catches my attention. It sort of reminds me of the type of illustration one would find in one of the horror comics published by Warren back in the day. Underneath it all, there’s something a bit unseemly about the carnival. Creepy, even. It feeds into those memories of childhood terrors, the fear of the dark. (Kuretake No. 40 brush pen in Canson 180 sketchbook.)
Interesting news came my way a couple of weeks ago when I was contacted by Strathmore Fine Art Papers. I’m happy to announce that I’ve been named a Strathmore Fine Art Papers Featured Artist. Good timing for that honor too, as it happens to coincide with an exhibition of my sketches currently hanging at the Gladstone Community Center Gallery in Gladstone, Missouri.
This is all part of my grand experiment to get out of the studio, forget about the preciousness of art and concentrate upon the energy of gesture, the wonder of mark making, the vitality of being in and of the moment. I’ve neglected the studio easel for quite a while now, but haven’t really missed it much.
3 September, 2016. What a beautiful day for a ride through Rocheport, Boonville, and the surrounding hills, farms, and countryside, This year’s BikeMo Ride was followed by live music, wine, and a very welcome ice cold beer, all at the winery finish line atop the bluffs overlooking the Missouri River. Yeah, baby!
I didn’t make nearly as many ride sketches this year as I did last August, and I didn’t even get around to inking my pencil sketches until today, an entire week later. (Rocheport, Missouri; Lamy Safari medium nib fountain pen and watercolor wash.)