These sketches have been pulled out of a growing number of drawings made of Still Lifes over the last three months. They have become a regular excersise for me, mostly as studies of light and form. The subjects vary
from commonplace objects as they were found, often left in place absentmindedly to more careful arrangements.
These drawings were made over the past 6 months. Some are notes made from a lecture series given by Robert Beverly Hale. Others are copied from plates by the German, Dr. Richer.
Of late, I have been attending a figure drawing class at the Art Students League in midtown Manhattan. It has been great to work from the figure on a daily basis. After class I usually enjoy a cappuccino at Cafe Europa, corner of 57th and 7th, then walk through the Artisan’s Gate of Central Park and north the 30 odd blocks to the Metropolitan Museum. At the Met I have been drawing from their seemingly endless collection of masterworks.
However before enrolling at the League, I was attending life drawing sessions at the Garrison Art Center. These are a few of the drawings made then.
Men working on Wall Street
Outside of the New York Stock Exchange
Caity Johnson, dancer, choreographer
My mother holding one of her angora rabbits
Song of a Man Who Has Come Through
by D.H. Lawrence
Not I, not I, but the wind that blows through me!
A fine wind is blowing the new direction of Time.
If only I let it bear me, carry me, if only it carry me!
If only I am sensitive, subtle, oh, delicate, a winged gift!
If only, most lovely of all, I yield myself and am borrowed
By the fine, fine wind that takes its course through the chaos of the world
Like a fine, an exquisite chisel, a wedge-blade inserted;
If only I am keen and hard like the sheer tip of a wedge
Driven by invisible blows,
The rock will split, we shall come at the wonder, we shall find the Hesperides.
Oh, for the wonder that bubbles into my soul,
I would be a good fountain, a good well-head,
Would blur no whisper, spoil no expression.
What is the knocking?
What is the knocking at the door in the night?
It is somebody wants to do us harm.
No, no, it is the three strange angels.
Admit them, admit them
Adrian Eisenhower 