Every once in a blue moon, I find myself remembering Liz Lamb. Tonight happens to be one of those.

It was the summer of 1977 and I was working a summer job, part-time night shift as a gas station cashier. 11pm to 7 am, Fri and Sat nights, as I recall. It was a pretty quiet gig, but at least I was allowed to listen to the radio and allowed to read while on duty. I don't think I ever nodded off on the job. I also remember spending a lot of my time re-reading a biography of Marc Bolan, whom I had just gotten into.

A lot of the details have gotten sketchy and dubious, but here are some. This one night in late August, right near the start of my shift, this slim pretty redhead comes up to pay for her gas. She's very friendly and outgoing and charming, and somehow we end up talking a fair bit longer than her purchase actually required. The next night, she came back, to buy much less gas, and we talked even longer. Fortunately no other customers came by during these times to interrupt us. And this time, before she goes, she tells me that she'd like to take me out to dinner. So I let her know where to pick me up, we arranged a time during the week, and off she went.

I remember my mom thought this was all rather odd. TBH so did I. But I went.

She took me for a fairly late meal at a local restaurant. I remember we drank Mateus, which I had never had before, and I had a fair bit of it. (At one point I was sitting in a stall in the restroom and I could feel the room turning head over heels.) Then she wanted us to go hang at a friend's place out on the edge of town. We got there, and before we went in we spent a little while necking against her car. At one point I had her bent back onto the hood, my hands wandering over her. When we got in, there were a few guys in the house, Liz was the only girl, and I sat in a corner of a couch, very quiet. As I recall, they were smoking up a bit, which I didn't touch yet. At least there were tunes, which were okay, but TBH I was pretty bored. 

Finally she drove me home, and there was a small good night kiss, but I don't recall anything being said about doing this again. In part, I guess, because we were both set to leave town and go off to school in the very near future, and we both knew that we both knew. So that's really all there was to it.

The main reason I keep thinking about this is just the strangeness of a beautiful stranger asking me out. I mean, to me she looked like the sort of woman who could have anyone she wanted. And I certainly wasn't all that.

And yet she seemed to want me. And yet only sorta. I really don't know what prompted her. And I also wonder when [and how much] she regretted doing it, after all. But yeah, it made me feel attractive for a while, in a way that few events and few people have done, either before or since.

Sometimes I wonder where she is, how she's doing. Whatever happened to her. And does she remember me, and, if so, how. I doubt I will ever know.

receiving a beautiful new book

the first day of the year where it was warm enough to go run errands without a jacket

hearing the songs of robins at daybreak -- one of my favourite sounds, and this morning was my first time hearing it this year [so glad the robins haven't gone into lockdown]

Today I had a nap. And when I opened my eyes afterward, the first thing I thought was, OMG I feel so well rested and refreshed! That is exactly the thing I needed! I am so glad that I decided to make time for that.

Things in life don’t need to be huge to be good.

Today's art post is a definite departure, and has a curious history.

There's this woman named Heidi whom I see on my social media through mutual acquaintances. We like each other's posts but don't directly talk all that much. But yesterday, I suddenly got a message from her on Instagram:


I blinked for a while before replying:


Then, this back from her:


Fair enough.

And so I gave the matter some thought. I could take it as a sort of commission, I guess. Plus, Heidi is a striking woman, and the chances of getting some good art out of this were not insubstantial. So I browsed thru her Instagram and came across this pic, which convinced me to go for it:



I chose this one cuz it shows off her strong, sharp facial features which give her real character, as well as her stunning indigo mane. However, I chickened out on trying to capture that indigo, and decided to work in grayscale -- where I have decades more experience to provide me with better control. (When attempting a likeness, control matters a lot.) Looking over the pic and figuring out how best to render its various aspects, I hit upon a mixed media approach which I have never tried before: a combo of ink [both Pigma Micron markers and India ink with a brush], pencil to keep the skin tones and details delicate, and watercolor for gray washes to capture the energy of the print blouse.

And, much to my surprise, I ended up very happy with the final result. Whatever its shortcomings as a perfect likeness might be, I think it's a decent little drawing, all told.

My twenty-ninth acrylic painting is another in my UK series. This is a view you can see if you walk up to the Cutty Sark Museum, then turn and look back into town. Our flat in Greenwich [when we stayed there a week in 2017] was close by, and we could see the top few sections of the spire from our bedroom window. We were there in July that year, and I can remember being able to read the time on the clock in daylight before 5am [Greenwich Time, of course].

I painted this as a gift for Sharon's birthday (which is today). Luckily, she likes it.

My 28th painting is another in my UK Series, and yet another old church in York. It took me a long time to work up the nerve to finish this one, for some reason. Like Minster Gates, this one was intended to be a gift for Sharon, but I was pretty sure she wouldn't like this new one as much. [And, as it eventually turned out, I was right in that -- she didn't.]

In the reference photo I took, the setting sun made the building look much pinker than it actually is. But I liked that aspect, and decided to push it here. So I knew going in that I would be taking a more expressionistic approach than something like Minster Gates, which seems to me very much an impressionist work. [Again, Sharon's feedback confirms me in my evaluation. She said that Minster Gates “up close looks like odd blobs and smears, but stand back and it looks like a photo” -- a pretty fair description of impressionism, I'd say.]

I didn't want to get so caught up in the details in this one, didn't want to evoke that photo experience, but rather focus on the colours and basic shapes. So I painted this one without wearing my glasses, so as to keep everything soft and vague. What I ended up with here reminded me of some of Gabriele Münter's work. Since she is my hero, I am gonna call that a win.

reaching a goal

Last January 1, I told myself I wanted to try and draw something, good or bad, but something, every single day for the entire year. And it was a leap year, so that meant at least 366 drawings.

Yesterday I drew for my 366th consecutive day and passed the finish line. This, as far as I can recall, is the first year in my life that I managed to draw every day without fail. So yeah, I am kinda pleased. Also looking forward to a break from the relentless deadlines.  :P