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Writing, at its best, is a lonely life. Organizations for writers palliate the writer's loneliness, but I doubt if they improve his writing. He grows in public stature as he sheds his loneliness and often his work deteriorates. For he does his work alone and if he is a good enough writer he must face eternity, or the lack of it, each day.
-- Ernest Hemingway


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While sitting in the living room, I decided to pen-and-ink Jacob while he played. I've always wondered how to capture people who are moving. He didn't sit still, nor did I ask him to do that. His face and body changed angles and shadows and color and I tried to render him correctly.

I like pen-and-ink; it forces me to sketch without eraser, and that's more discipline. No net, so to speak. But I don't like how after a bit I get a bubble of ink in the pen and it then splots onto my work. See the two large black dots above...

Afterward, Cub and I sat at the table and painted with watercolors. He portrayed his McDonald's doll that he got in a recent Happy Meal. I colored in what I had seen. Here's his:

We're both happy with his effort, plus he likes listening to the scanner take a picture of his work. He imitates the whine of the scanning light as it moves under the glass.

Earlier, Austin and I played baseball. I pitch; he swings. "We need a pitcher, not a belly-itcher." I do manage to get him a few good pitches, and he enthusiastically clocks them when I do.

Prior to that, Cub and I played a new game together: Blokus. Cool game!

It was a tie :)


by Brett Rogers, 7/16/2006 5:05:38 PM


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