Category: Alphabet Magic

My rediscovery of fountain pens has resulted in a more purchases. The hedonic treadmill led from cheap flexible nibs to boutique inks and now better paper. Ironically, the photo below shows drawings with decades old ink, but on a fresh Rhodia pad. And yes, it’s a world of difference from the cheap Office Depot steno pads I’ve been using.

Along the way I’ve also discovered Pinterest after being nudged by some folks on Substack. It’s an amazing place for reference imagery (duh!). I had assumed that Instagram would be the place for such a library, but Meta has turned their place into a video service.

Here’s to new (and old) tools, toys, and platforms.

On our way home from San Diego, we checked out the dying outlet mall at Primm. The adjoining casino is trying to revive it by making the cavernous space a huge mural gallery.

There were a couple claw machines at one end of the concourse. After watching Toy Story, they begged to try it out. I told them to not expect anything.

We had one dollar.

We got lucky.

---

This is a $200 drawing, the most expensive that I’ve made.

Late last year, I started sketching again, drawing the letters of the alphabet in my steno notepad. After drawing the “R” at the top, I tried again on decent paper, splashing an ink wash. It blew my mind that this could come from my hand.

It kept me drawing. Half a year later, I found Ashlyn Antsee’s series on fountain pens and bought a mix of nibs and new inks…and I plan on upgrading from the cheap Office Depot steno pads.

It’s a fuzzy line between art, consumerism, and privilege. I’m grateful that it’s no big deal for us to buy fancy drawing supplies.

We spent the a day at the New Children’s Museum in San Diego, filled with cool installation pieces. The highlight is Whammock! by Toshiko Horiuchi MacAdam.

Last time we went was before the pandemic, when the boy was 18 months old. He’s now her age then. He took to this piece like a fish in water. Life took a long pause but kept moving regardless.

A few weeks ago, I got into a conversation about zines and d.w. sent me a couple! I printed out the emails with the kids to make the books.

A single sheet of paper, a few folds, one cut, and voila! an eight page book.

The kids delayed dinner so they could color their new zines.

Last week, we got a wooden mannequin at Ikea.
He lay straight in a plastic tube.
The kids called him RIP Mr. Little Wooden Guy.

Mama took him out of the cylindrical coffin.
He’s a stiff little fellow; his hips don’t rotate.
The kids danced with him around the house.

I bought someone to draw.
A figure who wouldn’t run away.
The kids gave him a little headband.

But I wanted someone who can do a full range of poses.
A mannequin who could do the Eight Brocades.
The kids hinted that Mr. Little Wooden Guy would love to have a friend.

The boy’s craft table had a ribbon of markers in holders of toilet paper rolls. Mama glued them together in groups of four and six. It’s a nice modular system that the kids decorated with markers.

The kids created their own “little house” inside the playroom. The fluorescent green circles are teleportation stations between rooms. They debated about making this an amusement park but chose a domestic setting.

I found this odd little installation in the powder room.
If I thought about it longer, maybe I could decipher the message.

One little cloud caught the last rays of the sunset after its neighbors had gone grey. It was a brilliant orange that quickly faded into the background.

In May, we came out of our hyper-cautious shell and started doing indoor activities like shopping with the kids. On my birthday, they insisted on getting a stuffie at IKEA even though my wife isn’t fond of these dust bunnies. She also insisted on having this little gal cool off for a few weeks. We finally brought her in in June.

At first the boy wanted to call her “Claire Elephant” because he’s obsessed naming everything after his imaginary little sister Claire. He then proposed “Smalley”. Mama countered with “Mini”. After some debate, Mini won.

That evening they misplaced her in the messy playroom and we spent half an hour looking for her. When she woke up the next day, my daughter was not amused when she couldn’t find Mini in her safe place (because I borrowed her for the sketch).

~

This moment of magic was inspired by recent newsletter, where Emily Charlotte Powell shares her in-progress drawing of a mermaid-yet-to-be-named.