On this day in 2013, we were wandering the fairy-tale streets of Sarlat, a Périgord village of golden limestone, remarkably unchanged since the 16th century, and I sketched the birthplace and childhood home of Étienne de la Boétie (1530-1563), of which this is a detail.
Cliff
Some quickie sketches during our traditional family outing on this day, to celebrate the USA’s birthday along with local dancers and drummers, librarians and launderettes, politicians, piping policemen, and puppy dogs. Happy Fourth of July, everyone!
Melinda
Actually if they were available I would totally eat these.
Giampaolo
An Irish blessing, and a page from my Ireland sketchbook. Happy St. Patrick’s Day, everyone.
May God give you
For every storm, a rainbow,
For every tear, a smile,
For every care, a promise,
And a blessing in each trial.
For every problem life sends,
A faithful friend to share,
For every sigh, a sweet song,
And an answer for each prayer.
—Irish blessing
Simone
A giant chocolate-chip scone on the table this morning, and a poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822). Happy Valentines Day, everyone.
Love’s Philosophy
The fountains mingle with the river
And the rivers with the Ocean
The winds of Heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single;
All things by a law divine
In one another’s being mingle.
Why not I with thine? –
See the mountains kiss high Heaven
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister-flower would be forgiven
If it disdain’d its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth
And the moonbeams kiss the sea:
What is all this sweet work worth
If thou kiss not me?
—Percy Bysshe Shelley
Jack
Bill
An unfortunate conjunction of events.
Roshan
Trot about the studio early this morning assembling a quickie door decoration: red and yellow construction paper, downloaded Chinese characters, gold spray paint, scrap of gold lace from the remnant box. Gallop to Yes Natural Foods after school for groceries. At the finish line: dumplings and spicy tofu for dinner. Happy Chinese New Year!
SidneyIn celebration of this shortest day, this longest night of the year, a sketch and a poem.
Reflections On a Scottish Christmas
The dark of winter wraps around us tight.
The lamps are fired, and flickering light
beats time to the fiddle as notes float softly down, like the years’ first snow.
While outside the window a blast of late December wind
whistles harmony to the drone of the pipes.
We push the old year back against the wall
so we can dance a jig for Christmas and welcome in the new.
—Johnny Cunningham
Must post my annual tribute.
Leah
