Today was hot. Like, high-noon in August at a New Orleans Jambalaya fest hot. So, rather than traipse outside with a paintbox, a sweat towel, and a gallon of iced tea, I stayed in and went with the sketch default: self portraiture! as my late friend and mentor once said, ”If it’s good enough for David Hockney, its good enough for me.”
Speaking of late and great, you know who we don’t talk about enough? Edgar Degas. Yes, his pastel paintings are all over mugs, cards and other kitschy paraphernalia, and I think—very unfortunately—his work has generally become, for most people, a tired old LP on repeat because of its ubiquitousness. But oh my goodness, HIS DRAWINGS. I mean, this guy is a master. He knows line, he knows shape, he knows shadow. He knows what to show and what to hide. And most important, he knows the value in simplicity.
So here you have it. One simple selfie in charcoal, with hopefully, more to come.
One thought on “Hot Hockney and the Degas Blues”
Beautiful, your talent is amazing!