Pumpkins in December?

Prismacolor colored pencils on Strathmore Bristol, Vellum

It has been far too long since I posted a new drawing, but rest assured that all is well. I've just been working on some "Do-not-open-before-Christmas" holiday projects that couldn't be posted, or surprises would have spoiled. Now that the holiday crush is behind us, I'm re-charged (I'm hoping it's not just a sugar high) and resolved to get back to more regular drawing —and posting!

This pumpkin drawing was commissioned by a lovely woman, the aunt of one of my close friends. My friend had recently given her a framed print of my artichoke cross-section drawing, chosen because her aunt lives in Half Moon Bay, a coastal town north of here (and south of San Francisco). Half Moon Bay, besides being famous for its pumpkins (it hosts a huge Pumpkin Festival each October) is also known for growing artichokes and other vegetables. I'm tickled that she asked for a pumpkin drawing as well as one of Brussels sprouts on their stalk. (The latter has a short season, and since I almost always draw from real "models", I'd better get that one done soon!)

In case you're wondering, I chose to draw this "bird's-eye-view" since it is a companion piece to this one:

Here are a couple of work-in-progress shots:

I hope that you are enjoying some relaxing post-holiday time as well. Next up for me...blog visits! (And maybe one last slice of cranberry bread...)

And one last important note: Thank you for all of the supportive comments, emails, and good ol' positive thoughts that you sent my way after my recent post about Parkinson's Disease. Your kind words mean more than you know.

Illustration Friday: Layer

Well, I was really tempted to do a drawing of one of my hens, my layers, but my chicken-drawing skills aren't quite ready for public consumption.  Then, I remembered my post last month in which I chatted about David Tanis' cookbook, The Heart of the Artichoke. From the moment that I saw Maren Caruso's gorgeous cover photograph, a cross-section of an artichoke, I've wanted to draw a similar view.  So, I went to the grocery store and bought an artichoke, whacked it in half and started looking at it. Its layers are quite beautiful - the way the greens lighten into yellows as they move inward, ending with the little magenta "brushstrokes" on the innermost creamy petals. It's easy to get a little lost in the details (sort of like drawing a pinecone), but once I had the basic parts and pieces botanically correct (sort of ), I was able to take a little artistic license with the details. Artichokes are just so beautiful...and delicious.

Spring in January

The weather was positively spring-like in the Bay Area today.  (Apologies to those of you enjoying frostier days.)  And while I know that today was probably just a brief respite from our soggy winter, everyone I talked to seemed to be spouting some version of  "This is why we live in California."  (Of course, it's usually followed up with  "And this is why we pay obscene amounts of money to live here", but I digress...)

I was looking for a drawing that might illustrate the joy of living in California, when I ran across this artichoke sketch that I did one day last summer.  As my thoughts turned to food, I was reminded of the cookbook that my sister recently gave me, Heart of the Artichoke, and Other Kitchen Journeys by David Tanis, the chef at Chez Panisse in Berkeley, a restaurant that's about as quintessentially Californian as it gets.  (Actually, he's the chef at Chez Panisse for six months of the year, and lives in Paris the other half of the year....quel dommage.)  I love the cover photograph; it illustrates the elegance of art forms found in nature, which is one of my obsessions lately.  (Check out photographer Maren Caruso's website here - it's incredible.)

Heart of the Artichoke is a fabulous cookbook, but David Tanis' writing makes it much more: "Mesmerized by television shows hyping the thirty-minute meal and the blood sport of competitive cooking, we have somehow forgotten the pleasure of giving ourselves over to the true kitchen experience.  This doesn’t mean spending hours and hours in the kitchen.  It’s not more difficult cooking, but a different way of engaging with food.  What matters is the joy..."

The first 35 pages or so are devoted to fourteen of his kitchen rituals, and I'd recommend the book for that section alone.  Who among us doesn't have some food ritual akin to Tanis' particular way of making and eating oatmeal?  And I'm always a sucker for a cookbook organized by seasons.  So, in honor of today's weather, I'm boldly ignoring (for now) the "Dead-of-Winter Dinner from the Supermarket" and heading right for "Spices for a Summer Night"!