Lotsa Dots

The average dot size is 1.5 inches.

I share a detail from a large, ungainly drawing just because I’m having so much fun — and why not. I am doing the 36 x 48 inch drawing as though it were a drawing in a sketchbook.

Lots of freedom is wonderful. The gestural scribbling is good exercise for the arms and shoulders. So, what’s not to love about this process on an amazingly lovely day where Mother Nature on the other side of the window seems to be cheering me on. She’s such a swell gal.

Another mountain showed up at the studio. This one arrived on a paper towel. You just never know. These mountain visitors adore my studio.


My Every Thought

I’ll just publish every single thing I draw.

My every visual thought. You’re wound up with suspense wondering what I draw first thing in the morning while I have my coffee, isn’t that right?

No? Not even a little tiny bit curious about the colored pencil doodles I make in blank pages of an old calendar? Goodness, I’m flabbergasted!

And yet you agree that we should fill up the internet with pictures. Turn drawings into electrons! Be always seeing, often thinking, and draw it all!


This is the place I imagine my koi inhabiting.  This is what the linear realm is like, what the world looks like when you’re two dimensional and occupy width and height without depth.  Did you think I was referring to the koi pond?  The real one?  Ah, but my koi are drawings. 

My kid made this picture, or rather she began it and I finished it.   Children are always the first ones to learn some new thing to do on a computer,  just as those who are young at heart are the ones who invent all this stuff.  So, the kid started just twisting the mouse back and forth on the “paint” program and made a beautiful black and white sheet of lines.  When I came along, to whisk her off the computer so she could do her homework, she said “we need to add color.”  And that’s how I became the “second shift,” not being one ever to pass up a chance to put colors down onto a page (of whatever sort).

This is the great cosmic pond — that’s how I think of it.  Here the lines are light, and they just go crazy.

Drawing Horses


I drew horses today.  (And I even got some work done on my still life!  You can read about that lament in previous posts.)


Drawing horses is something I did just for fun.  (I decided that I needed a big dose of fun, since I was becoming old sober sides.)


I played around with the color quite a bit.  I guess you knew that.  But certainly they are “horses of a different color” just like in the saying.

Adjacent To

Perhaps because paper was once in short supply, we note that the old masters drew on their rare pages with more joyful abandon than is typical of artists today.  And they were more thrifty.  Often a page of old master drawings will have several subjects on the same page, and they will not necessarily have anything to do with each other.  Often they are at right angles to each other.  And sometimes artists (like Ingres or Rubens) would even put more than the correct number of limbs on their figures — all presumably in the interest of deciding what the pose should be.  Four armed ladies?  Let’s not go there.  Save that for another occasion.

In our era of anything goes, it’s interesting that this conceit — this putting lots of things onto the same page hasn’t caught on as a revivified trend.  Heck, a lot of artists could do it and suppose that they were inventing something brand new (the ones who have not studied history, that is).

Besides things that happen to rent space on the same page are the colors that halo objects.  Everything in the world is colored and if you look really closely at all the color, it can drive you nuts!  There is so much of it to notice.  I didn’t peer too deeply in this drawing, but just enough to put some blue on top and green on the side of the marigold.

[Top of the post:  Studies of Plants by  Aletha Kuschan]

Colored Pencils (Shell fossil)

Colored pencils are something that you love for themselves.  Even before you draw.  They look so great sitting there colorfully arrayed, row upon row, in their neat little box. Traveling has awaked my appreciation of this studio in a box. 

Of course you have to think a little differently when you’re making your picture with these.  Everything becomes a line.  You cannot work the masses of an image with the big dollop of color.  Or, let’s say, you can dollop, but you’ll do it with lines.  You can scribble a mass, you can rub the color into a continuous tone, but you will have massed it particle by particle.

So, of course hatching is what you do.  I love hatching.  You can lay line beside line in a wonderfully monotonous way.  It’s hypnotic — like mowing the lawn or washing the dishes, except more colorful.

This subject lent itself to colored pencils as it seemed to have been composed of lines itself!  Lines of calcium threaded together, in three dimensional contours, that rolling in upon each other formed — poof! — a fossil shell.

The legislators of my state have managed our lovely Maryland so marvelously that they have hardly anything to do now, and so they’ve gone way beyond state flowers and state birds.  We’ve got a state fossil.  And it’s at the top of the post.

[Top of the post:  Maryland’s State Fossil: Ecphora gardnerae gardnerae by Aletha Kuschan]