Step 27. Visit friends

On an Artist Date at the Met yesterday, I visited some of the pieces I've drawn in my current sketchbook.

Step 19. Find inspiration

My notebook sketches, inspired by artwork by Sakai Hoitsu, whose work I visited at the Met this week.

Step 16. Benched

I had an art lesson with Matisse last week. I noticed a Matisse painting in front of a bench on my last visit to the Met, so he was my teacher that day.

I started my sketch with the hair because the shape was simple to copy. As I moved on to the robe, arms, and shoes, I realized everything was a shape. I guess that's a basic thing to know, but it took drawing it for me to get it. I saw a triangle here, a rectangle there. Drawing the outline was like fitting puzzle pieces together. My sketch didn't match Matisse's perfectly, but then again, I'm not Matisse. I'm a student learning from the master.

In the end, I could finally make out the black outline of the chair. Matisse's background is black, and I didn't notice the woodwork on the chair until after I looked at the painting for a long time. The label next to the painting says that Matisse was intrigued by using black as a color. That's a lesson I'll learn another time. This lesson was about seeing shapes.

Julia Cameron writes in The Artist's Way, "Art is not about thinking something up. It is about the opposite - getting something down....We're not doing; we're getting....Instead of reaching for inventions, we are engaged in listening." I thought about that quote as I made the contour drawing. I felt like the lesson of shapes was falling right into my lap. All I had to do was be there to catch it.

I also thought about the saying that a teacher will appear when the student is ready. I won't complain when the teacher who appears is Matisse, even if he appears because I was ready for a bench to sit on. Maybe I'll create my own course called Masters at the Met by Benches, followed by Great Artwork Close to the Restroom.

Laurette in a Green Robe, Black Background by Matisse, 1916. Metropolitan Museum of Art, NYC.

Step 14. Catkins on your ears

I grew up in a house with a huge birch tree in the front yard. The tree's catkins were part of many childhood games and a were a source of wonder. I still like finding catkins to examine or draw.

When I saw the catkin earrings at the Jewels by JAR exhibit at the Met, I was instantly smitten with them and had to make a quick sketch.

Clip-on earrings by JAR made of sapphire, bronze, silver, gold.

Nature drawing on a cold, cold January day inside the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Yes, life is good.

Step 13. Sketch

My Artist Date was back at the Met this week. I went to the Jewels by JAR exhibit. The guard said, "No photography allowed," but I didn't mind because I was there to sketch.

My expectations and interest in the show were low, to be honest, and I went only because I wanted to try something new for me at the Met. In the end, the show did disappoint me, but some pieces absolutely appealed to me.

And speaking of a peel, this piece was my favorite. 

The orange part of the peel is made of garnets. It sparkles like crazy and the colors are gorgeous. The white part of the peel, in between the orange strips, is enamel. The orange blossoms are diamond-encrusted. But it's not the gems that attracted me as much as the shape and color, and most especially, the attention to the beauty of an orange peel and blossoms.

The artist, JAR, has many pieces based on plants and flowers, and I loved every single one of them. I liked them because they were not simply generic "flower motifs," but looked like botanical studies in gemstone. Botanical studies are what I love best, no matter what the material used. 

I only wish there was some information about his attraction to the natural world and the inspiration it gives him. There was no information provided, and that is a big disservice to the audience, and frankly, super lame for a museum show. 

I wasn't interested in his pieces that were "regular" jewelry designs, and I didn't care for his animal pieces, but the plant-inspired pieces made for a sweet Artist Date.

Step 10. Copy.

For my Artist Date this week, I trekked to the east side and made a visit to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

I discovered the Safavid tile panel in a gallery I hadn't visited before. There was a bench directly in front of the piece, making an irresistible invitation to sit and sketch for awhile.

As I decided what to draw from panel, I thought the rocks in the painting looked like frogs....well, looked like brightly-colored frogs disguised as rocks getting it on. I chided myself for such a silly thought. But, as I drew, and as I looked at all the birds and bees, and overly large blossoms, and vessels scattered about a luscious garden, I realized I was sitting and starting at a very sexy piece of work. It wasn't what I expected, and being surprised makes for a perfect Artist Date. Makes for a perfect day in general when you think about it. Who wouldn't be delighted with such a sensual surprise, as long as you're patient enough to receive it.

I happened to be dressed to meet the tile panels on my Artist Date. The flowers on the tiles were similar to the flowers on the skirt I wore on my sketching excursion.

Step 8. Bronx cheer from Brooklyn

Another sketch from the Tropical Pavilion at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. I was charmed by this plant, Pavonia Multiflora from Brazil.

I sketched it quickly in the garden and then colored it in a simple style when I got home.

When I researched the plant, I smiled at a description that the flower looks like it's sticking out its tongue. The author of The Artist Way, Julia Cameron, prepares the reader to expect some criticism from others as you work through the book. That happened to me this week, and this flower came in handy. I wouldn't stick out my tongue in response to negative remarks, but the flower on my page will.

Step 7. Stay a little longer

After my Artist Date yesterday and sketching the knitted flowers in the gallery, I wasn't ready to go home, and I had enough time to walk through the tropical plants room before I had to end the date. A couple of flowering plants in the conservatory caught my eye.

I wanted a couple of quick sketches to put in my Artist Date notebook, and that's all. As I was drawing a bloom, a woman stopped to ask what I was writing about.

"I'm not writing anything actually. I'm drawing this flower," I said to her.

"Oh," she said. "Drawing."

And then she said, "Why are you drawing? Is that plant interesting?" I wasn't sure how to answer her question.

"Well, I guess that's up to you to decide," I said.

She must not have found it as interesting as I did because she walked away and didn't linger. I would have liked to linger longer, but it was time for me to head back to the subway and make the long ride home, but not until I stopped at the gift shop and bought a couple of plants to take along with me.

Step 6: Go on a date

I went on a date today. I was looking forward to it for over a week, and it was as good as I expected it to be.

If you've read The Artist's Way like I'm reading it right now, you'll know what I mean by Artist Date. The date is a weekly outing you take by yourself to be inspired, to have fun, to get a change of scenery, to recharge. This week I picked the Knit, Purl, Sow exhibition at the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens.

I was smitten, sight-unseen, when I first heard about the show, and going to see it in person was the perfect way to treat myself to a date. The art pieces were larger-than-life botanicals made out of knitting. Seriously. How cool is that?

After walking through the exhibit, I sat down and sketched some of the pieces in my tiny sketchbook I bought especially to use on Artist Dates so I could remember them later when my spirit needs a pick-me-up.

An elderly man sat on the bench next to me and we had a conversation. At one point, he leaned closer to me and asked if I was a knitter. I told him no. "I like to draw," I said. "You do?!" he said in surprise and pulled back up straight. I was drawing the whole time we talked, but I guess some people don't pay that much attention to what's right in front of them.

As he left, I said, "Have a good day," and he said, "How could I not? Every day you're alive is a good day."

I've had a bunch of bad days in recent months, and the man's comments reminded me that I'm set out to have as many good days as I can bank. You've got to store up the good ones to see you through the bad ones, I've learned. But sometimes you don't get an entire day that you'd count as good, so I'm learning to pay more attention to the good moments, even if they last just a minute. Sitting on a bench in a gallery sketching knitted renditions of giant flowers talking to an old man about how he takes his wife to art exhibits counted for a few good moments.

Later, at home, I received bad news in an email that hurt my heart. There's no script to follow, as someone reminded me recently, when you receive bad news. You're on your own.

I picked up my little sketchbook and colored pencils, and I filled in the outlines like a little girl with a coloring book. I colored until my whole universe was on that page and I could live there.

I don't want to show up empty-handed, even on a notebook page. Especially on a notebook page. I need to bring something to it, give myself, and that's where living a life comes in handy. What happens in life goes through my soul and ends up, somehow in some way, on the page. Good or bad, like it or not, that's where I am.

Tonight I went to a book club meeting up the street. I brought salad, friends brought wine and cookies and cheese and crackers, and the host made chicken with cream, mushrooms, and noodles. Now that I'm home again, I will read some, draw some if I'm not too tired, pray, and then I will go to sleep with a cat or two next to me and with my notebook set up for early morning writing.

I'm alive and on the page, and that, I know, means it was a good day.