With practice, getting better, getting faster

sketch a day #19  2 minutes

I put the time on a lot of my drawings because I feel like it explains how quickly I did a drawing and why it is or isn't that detailed.  But as I practice and draw more and more, I feel like I am getting into the knack of it.  I am even getting used to holding the pencil differently, even though depending what I am doing, I may still hold it like I am writing.

Anyway, Here is today's drawing.  I did it in 2 minutes, but I feel like I was still able to capture the glass mug that was sitting on my desk.  There is a printer, an envelope, and a printer wire in the background.

I'd been going on about math lately, where I was insisting that some kids close to me who were struggling with math should spend more time on it.  Us homeschoolers like to say that kids will pick up some subjects in their own time and at their own pace, but if we let them, a lot of the kids will never get math, and reading might not happen before puberty.

Kids and they parents don't like to hear that two hours of math may be a necessity.  The good news is that just like am getting faster at representing an item on paper, more and more quickly, that with a lot of practice, they will also get faster at math, and not have to spend two hours a day on it.

The point is no pain-no gain. If you want to get good at something, spend time at it. Practice it even when you don't want to. Get someone else to help you if you need to as well.  In time, you will get better and faster.

Hands off parents!

sketch a day #18   (scribbling on the road trip)

I visited with the kids this weekend.  Sort of. Our son wanted to come home for the weekend, and so went down and picked him up. (These kids will have car(s) by summer.)

Since we were there (they both go to college in the same city two hours from home) we stopped to see our daughter. In case you missed this, she goes to a women's college. I don't know if this is unique to Women's colleges or not, but there is clearly a hand-off vibe where parents are concerned. They love for parents to come out for parent designated events which are few and far apart... and they live it when we come to performances.... some performances, but just because it is weekend, does not mean it is mom and dad's time.  You are a college woman, and it is all college all the time.

We arrived Thursday evening and stopped at the girl's college to bring her some things she asked for. She was busy with Theatre rehearsals, as she is stage manager for this particular show, and so we dutifully waited behind the theatre building for her to come out.  She came out and had enough time for some big hugs and a few rushed words.  She said, "the professor said WHY ARE YOUR PARENTS HERE!?"  She relayed that is a way that meant, "this is not the time for mom and dad".  She told her why we were here and was granted a few minutes to meet with us.

We returned on Sunday and got a couple of hours with her.  We had enough time for some lunch and some shopping (two sweaters and a batman letter-jacket/sweatshirt) and some cleaning supplies, and dropped her off in time for another rehearsal.

When I was in college, I remember having time on the weekends to hang out and to work, and maybe go to some parties.  My girls experience is nothing like this.  When she is not working, she is working... and parents are just a distraction.

If I sound upset, I am not.

Her college is high stress, and they are keeping her very busy.  No time for shenanigans.  She is handling it like a champ.  It is no wonder such a large percentage of their graduates end up in elite graduate programs.

An exercise in frustration

So there's this art exercise where you scribble on the paper, and then try to turn that scribble into a work of art.  I am not good at it, but I spend a good deal of time on that exercise today.  Here are my attempts.  I'm only counting one of them today... the one that I liked.

This is one type of an exercise in frustration.  Most often, an exercise in frustration is when you are doing something over and over again, and expecting a different result.  Wait.  Isn't that also a definition for insanity?  

You know, you deal with the same person, day in and day out and pray for a different result when the conversation and motivations don't change.  It's kind of a why bother type of thing.  

sketch a day #17  45 min

In this case, I hope that by doing this exercise over and over, I can develop the more creative part of my brain and embrace some kind of uniqueness in my art that is unique to me, but developed.  I hate the process of this type of exercise, but I can see where it is useful.  Hopefully, I will get past the point of frustration in this exercise and make some kind of progress or breakthrough. 

Walking in other people's shoes

sketch a day #16 -30 min

I read a couple of stories today that I found terribly disappointing. 

 First, a young man of 16 years was accused by someone he had never met of stealing the person's backpack.  He was arrested and placed in Rikers Island because his family could not come up with $10,000 bail. He stayed there for 3 years without a trial.  He attempted suicide several times but was unsuccessful, and received beatings from the guards for his attempts.  Soon before being released he was brought before a judge who told him if he pled guilty, he could go home with time served.  He refused. He was not going to take the rap for something he had not done.  Soon after all charges were mysteriously dropped.  He is suing.  I hope he wins. 

I don't know what the young man's personality was.  I don't know what his track record was. I don't know anything about him except what I have seen on TV.  He is 21, meek, mild, and broken.

Personally, as a parent, I would have found the bail money somewhere, but I don't live in the Bronx, and I don't know the position of his parents. So while I cannot understand that he was left in jail for 3 years without a trial, I can step into his shoes long enough to believe that a young black man can and will be railroaded by the justice system and then kept in jail even though the district attorney was repeatedly "not ready" to try him.  Stuff like this makes me worry about my own children.



A parent laments on how he thought he did everything right with his kids. Raised them in as an elite environment as he could afford. Taught him diction and rules for a black man behaving in a not so black society.  The kid excelled and was doing fine.  All of that was broken with one word, heard at the age 16 while studying at an elite summer program. "Nigger." He realized that all the hard work he had done would not protect his kids from prejudice and injustice. I made this same realization a couple years ago when young black men started getting shot because someone was "afraid of them".  Not because of what they did, but of what someone thought they might do. These are my shoes. I pray someone will try to step into them and see things from my perspective.  My son is HUGE, and meek and mild. I've taught him to clear his throat when he was walking up on someone and to never surprise anyone.  To look people in the eye and speak, and to always be a gentleman. But I have this nagging fear about his safety when he is away from me.

This is difficult and this is sad.  Is this why I wear out my shoes so fast?