I will be the master of cabbages — someday. Now, there’s the spirit! Right-oh!
Or is it just whistling in the cabbage patch? It will have to be for others to judge. However I can say this on my behalf: I persevere. Another cabbage showed up at the residence and has stood for its portrait, and this one is the darndest frilly thing, the most stuck-up conceited cabbage, all dressed up, all decked out, difficult to draw, show-offy vegetable with an attitude I ever met.
When faced with grand madame cabbage you have to take things apart a little. So I did several scribbly drawings in the most carefree manner (let Ms. Cabbage chill while I doodle).
These are just quick-thinking little thingys made using my favorite pen (bit of a comfort tool in that).
They are very abstract, but my brain knows what’s what and it helps to lay down the main ideas of this overly complicated bundle of leaves. I don’t know if I’ll know what these lines describe whenever I peek back into my notebook years hence. But I know what they mean now. And they are rehearsal time for the bigger drawing. So they are most helpful.
Here she is, below, Her Cabbageness in person.
I love my compotier so much, I draw it first thing I wake up, even if I wake up at 4 in the morning. It appears in the corner of a pen drawing I made this morning and described in an earlier post, but I give it a spotlight of its own because it’s my wonderful compotier — dreamed and imagined!
Sometimes when a person has that first recognition of wanting to be an artist, usually sometime in youth, sometimes he (or she) begins to experiment with drawing, and if drawing comes readily that young artist will draw all the time. Anything, anytime, anywhere. I was not like that. Drawing came with such difficulty. I was constantly frustrated. My ability appeared to wax and wane without a hint of causality. I sometimes drew with enjoyment, but I was often disappointed too. And silly girl that I was, in my disappointment I was lackadaisical regarding the remedy to the problem. Drawing!
Not anymore. Now no matter what, I just plow on. If I cannot figure out how to do something, I am absolutely relentless about pursuing an answer. And I cultivate whimsy, that very thing that might have helped my youthful frustrations. I pursue difficult subjects, but I have fun too. Sometimes I just move the pen.
I wish I had learned to do this sooner — and so now I relentlessly pursue whimsy. Making up for lost time ….