Here are a few more heads I sketched at last week’s Christmas Carol and other music performance at The Westbourne pub. There was a great atmosphere with lots of audience participation. I scribbled these quickly with a borrowed Schneider pen, I forgot my usual ballpoint. It gives me a very different line, which took some getting used to, but I think I might invest in one.
Christmas Carols In The Pub.
I went to a nice festive do at a local pub just before Xmas, an evening of live acoustic music. Husb belongs to a choir, Cor Aderyn Du (the Blackbird Choir) who gave a rousing set of medieval carols and there were other performers too. Of course, I had to have a bit of a scribble. Here’s a young singer songwriter who performed a short set of Christmas carols that he’s written, I didn’t get his name, they were lovely. I had forgotten my pen so a friend lent me hers and it was weird drawing with something different. It took me a while to get used to it, but I liked it in the end.
#Caturday: Sketchbook Kitties.
Two Minute Head: 4
Two Minute Head: 3
Two Minute Head: 2
I recently started to do quick sketches of heads from newspapers that I’d cut out and stuck in my scrapbook. Just 2 minutes for practice at getting down the essentials of a face, not the details. It’s good practice. I used to sketch out and about all the time, but I’ve become more reclusive since Covid lockdown.
#Caturday Nadolig Llawen
A Crisp Cold Day.
Another Crisp Cold Night…
It’s another cold, dark wintry night and I’m cwtched on the settee in the warm, marvelling that a few years ago I wouldn’t be at all phased at going out for a walk with my sketchbook. But you know, I’m embracing my age and happily going through my old Winter sketches instead. Here’s one from a particularly cold but crisp night when the moon threw a brilliant light onto Swansea Bay.
A Crisp Cold Night.
Twelve years ago, I was younger and fitter and didn’t think twice about going for a stroll with a sketchbook on a cold, dark Winter evening. Nowadays, to be honest, it’s hard to work up the motivation to drag myself from the settee and repeats of The Masked Singer USA. Looking back at December 2012, here’s a scribble of the Swansea Guildhall and it’s avenue of pollarded trees in the crisp, cold night.











