Hi guys! New blog, new adventures in the world of pen and paper. These days, I'm really working on trying new things and pushing my work into the places I'd like it to be. This seems like a good way to go about it.
So anyway, I spent Saturday morning drawing people in a coffee-shop. I love coffee-shops, they're like a playground for tiny human dramas, and everyone's quite alright with you sitting there quietly soaking them in from behind your sketchpad.
There's a little train-set which intermittently runs around the top of this cafe, and the little girl waited around with her sister for ten minutes for it to come round. When it finally did, she was looking the other way.
This man is called Georgie. I haven't spoken to him, but I'm sure he's the oldest man I've ever seen. He's always in the same corner of the same coffee shop, but the wonderful thing is how everybody knows him. It seems like literally anyone can walk in and suddenly they'll have known him for ten years and have lived next door and have this and that in common. As someone who's moved house every few years/months, when I see people like this it seems like they're an old oak tree, grown into the space they've lived in, shaped perfectly to fit.
Incidentally, though I do have a job, the term 'starving artist' still applies to me, in that I can never get served in coffee shops. I used to think this was bad service on the part of the caf
é, but since then I've realised it is just me being partially invisible. Naturally, I'm far too British to make a fuss, so instead I have noticed myself developing a sort of of ritual dance by which I try to stare down passing waiters. No, it does not work.
That's it from me, and I'll be posting again soon. This was fun!
