Recovered Photos

 

While going through my computer's photo library, I discovered four photos in a Recovered Photos file. They struck me as significant, so I thought I would share them with you.

I drew this first one on a trip to Florida. I had recently attended my first comics convention, and was looking to fill in some holes in my long-neglected collection. While taking time out for must-see attractions, such as Disneyworld and Gatorland, my wife and I also stopped by several comics stores. After this trip, I would reconnect with my friend Justin Ponsor. Through our dialogue, he gave me a greater appreciation for comics.

Sadly, Justin is no longer with us, coloring the comics we love. But at least he shared his love for them with me before he left. I no longer neglect my comics, and my collection is ever-growing. 

This second photo is of two ponies in a road in Dartmoor National Park. I took this during our trip to England in 2015. I did a good number of sketches that trip, including the view of Haytor from the room in our Bed & Breakfast. 

The hill, with its distinctive tor, was only a short walk away from the Moorland Hotel, where Agatha Christie stayed while writing her first published novel The Mysterious Affair at Styles. As I sketched, I imagined her hiking up that scenic hill while pondering the scenes she would write the following day.

After checking out of our B&B, we took the short drive to Haytor, and watched all the tourists hiking up that hill. Oh, and taking photos of the ponies. There were oh so many ponies that day at Haytor, far more than the two along the road in this photo.

 

This drawing helped relieve a burden I carried. It helped me fix in my mind, for all time, a place that was hugely special to me. Even if it no longer existed for me (or at least, never could), only after I drew it, could the healing begin.

 

This was a church convention, from the denomination of my youth. I only attended the event because some people asked me to accompany them. The event reminded me why I left that denomination, and why I rarely attend church anymore. 

For whatever reason, my photo library decided to save these four. Together, they encapsulate the past I've left behind, and what I carry into the future. 

Perhaps I'll leave them on my computer awhile longer.

Dragon Dave

A Sketch of Kapa'a Beach Park

A small park on the northwest coast of the Big Island of Hawaii. Another stop along our drive. My wife and I left the car to check the snorkling conditions. A few people braved the strong waves, and kicked around in the rough current, but those conditions weren't for us.

My wife took her painting kit to a picnic table. I opted for my comfortable seat, and added color to my sketch of Richardson Beach. Gradually, the clouds moved, exposing the front seat to full sun. 

Even with the windows down, I grew hot. The sketch paper reflected the sunlight into my eyes. I left the car, and walked around to stretch my legs.

More cars arrived, filling the parking lot. I didn't feel like drawing cars. My wife was immersed in her painting. What could I do?

I sat at the picnic table across from her, enjoying the cool shade. The relaxed spirit of the place called to me. I got out my pencil and sketch pad, and attempted to capture it.

I combined the elements that I most liked into my composition. When my wife finished her watercolor, I had completed the penciling and begun coloring the grass. Then we continued our tour of the northwest corner of Hawaii.

Later, I studied my sketch, and frowned. Had I not begun coloring it, I could have erased it, or added something to the foreground. Instead, I had just strewn a few objects in a horizontal slash across the page. What had I been thinking?

During our stay on Hawaii, we returned to Richardson Beach several times. While my wife did other paintings, I added color and detail to my initial sketch. When we returned home, I continued working on the Richardson sketch until I completed it. 

After that, I went on to other projects. My remaining sketches from Hawaii, including the sketch of Kapa'a Beach Park, languished in my book, forgotten, unloved.

Recently, I took out my sketchbook, and reconsidered the sketch of Kapa'a Beach Park. So what if it was just a horizontal line of items? So what if I had too much grass? 

Perhaps it could not evoke as much interest as the Richardson sketch. But I should not try to compare the two. Nor, I thought, should I attempt to forecast the result. I would never know what it could become until I finished working on it.

I got out my colored pencils, and tried to breathe life into it.

The result surprised me. The picture calls to me. I'm glad I finished it.

Someday, I may have to return to Kapa'a Beach Park.

Dragon Dave

Talent Vs Persistence at Big Bear Lake

Sometimes, the weather at Big Bear Lake could be charitable.

Other days, it could be distinctly unkind.

But throughout all those sketching sessions, I enjoyed sitting in the car, and observing how it changed. (Okay, I didn't enjoy feeling cramped, or cold, but I did enjoy the view outside).

People sometimes tell me that I am talented. But I remember, all too well, how my Freshman Art teacher in High School always took issues with my efforts, and gave me a C in her class. I remember how my father always counseled me against pursuing art in favor of a real, paying career. Eventually, lacking any encouragement, art and I parted company. Oh, I pursued various hobbies, making crafts and simple projects, and gifts for friends and family. But never really attempted to create anything, which is the essence of art. At least not until recently, when my wife rediscovered the joy of sketching, and urged me to give it a try.

In the movie "Eddie The Eagle," Michael Edwards sits atop the ninety meter ramp at the Olympics. He's never attempted such an ambitious jump before. As he sits there, the commentators and observers wonder if he's freezing up. His allotted time is ticking away. Yet as he stares down the slope, what passes through his mind is all the people who told him he couldn't do this, and that he didn't deserve to be there. Then he launches himself off the ramp, and makes a new Olympic Ski Jump record for England.

I need to remember that.

Dragon Dave

A Memorable Day: On Car Dealerships & Wells Cathedral

Yesterday, my wife and I spent three hours at the car dealership, waiting for our car to be serviced. Some might get irritable and angry, confined in one place for so long. But the dealership really put a lot of thought into the atmosphere of the waiting area. They offered complimentary bottles of water, free coffee and hot chocolate, and constantly made popcorn and chocolate chip cookies. The upholstered chairs are comfortable, and some have little desks attached to the arms. Plus, if you get bored, there are TVs on the wall, and books, magazines, and newspapers to read.

Plus, they have a little shop, where you can buy anything from jewelry to car parts.

I brought my sketching kit with me, and worked on a sketch of Wells Cathedral. We visited the Cathedral our last full day in England last year. It was a rainy morning, and after wandering around the shops, we sat in the sanctuary for an hour. There we sketched the interior, while a choir of asian school children practiced.

I don't know what they were singing. I only know they weren't singing in English. Yet it was pleasant to listen to them while we sketched. As we were leaving, a film crew was fitting a few alterations to the cathedral, to cover up the modern heating vents with faux stonework. Later, my wife did some research, and discovered that they were filming "The Huntsman: Winter's War," which will be released later this year.

Interestingly, Chris Hemsworth, who plays the Huntsman, played First Mate Owen Chase in Ron Howard's movie "In the Heart of the Sea."

I've never really considered the sketch of Wells Cathedral as anything but practice. The interior is to detailed, and my penciling too loose, to be anything more. But I enjoyed working with my Prismacolors, doing a little coloring, while we waited, and enjoyed our drinks and cookies. Then I read a few chapters of a Conan the Barbarian novel in the time remaining. It made for a pleasant afternoon, and a memorable day.

What did you do yesterday? What did you read? Was it a memorable day for you?

Dragon Dave

Letters to a Prison Inmate: Part 2

Since the midweek service I referenced in Part 1, I attended a Sunday worship service. That day, I spoke with several ladies, one of whom I might never have spoken with had I not attended the midweek service. When I mentioned that my wife had recently gotten me into sketching, she related an experience in which she brought cookies and other baked treats to people in prison. On that visit, a member of her group got talking with one prisoner, and he showed them sketches that he had made. I found her recollection especially interesting, as I never mentioned to her that a member of my extended family was currently in prison. 

Anyway, back to my letter.

In the first part of November, our gym closed for refurbishment. As I wasn’t able to follow my normal routine, I did more walking, and did more exercises like pushups and sit-ups at home. Later in the month, when I visited the doctor for my annual physical, I weighed exactly the same as last year. I worked hard to lose a lot of weight several years ago, and since then I’ve gradually put on a few pounds each year. So with the additional food and treats that accompany the holidays, keeping the same weight seemed like a triumph.

Despite the apparent victory during his last hospital stay, [a family member] has since suffered several infections, and returned to the hospital for short visits. Last weekend a visit to the doctor’s office led to another overnight hospital visit. Why do you think sickness so often accompanies the Christmas season? Is it just all the good food, or something else?

Yesterday my wife conscripted me. She prepared a ham, and I cooked it according to her instructions. She arrived home in time to help me carve and lay the meat in a serving dish. Then she took it back to work, where she oversaw a potluck meal for fifty-plus workers. I also enjoyed ham for lunch. Suddenly, I don’t feel so out-of-step with the Christmas season.

I hope this letter finds you well, and that you are also able to celebrate the Christmas season, in whatever manner your current situation allows.

As the woman I met in church described the photorealistic drawings of the prison inmate she met, I couldn't help reflect on my own poor efforts. While most people are complementary about my sketches, I know I have a long way to go in developing my abilities. Still, I know what I really need to do is just set aside a little time each day. Anyone can draw, you just have to practice, as artist Mike Bocianowsky once told me.

And anyone can write a letter, pay a visit, or do something nice for someone who feels isolated and alone. Especially during the Christmas season.

Dragon Dave

Related Dragon Cache entries
Mike Bocianowski's Passion

The Sacred Retreat: Part 2

My grandparents rarely entertained visitors. If they did, these people were members of the family, or church friends for whom they felt deep affection and trust. Thus, I felt like an honored guest whenever I stayed with them for a week or two, and my mother's old bedroom became my special place. As my grandparents entertained few visitors, it really felt like my home-away-from-home. My special place. My sacred retreat. 

With the light pouring in through the window behind the bed, I could while away the afternoons reading. The bookshelves held some of the classics of western literature. These volumes had been carefully acquired over the decades, or passed down to my grandparents from their ancestors. I knew I couldn't appreciate those old stories then, but I hoped that one day I would be capable of doing so. On the walls hung paintings created by my grandfather and my uncle. On a chest of drawers sat one of my grandmother's chalk drawings I loved so much she made me a copy. The old, glossy stuffed dog on the bed felt like a member of the family. Solid wood furniture, exhibiting timeless styles, surrounded me. Treasures stored beneath the bed included art supplies, such as paint and wax. 

My grandmother and I made candles one summer. During another visit, she helped me paint three pictures. One she hung on the wall beside those of my ancestors. Standing before her easel, with light pouring in from two windows, my grandmother created posters for church using pastel chalks. She often showed me her works in progress when I stayed with her. Sometimes, I just sat back on the bed and read while she drew. Or I opened the windows to the back yard, and watched her care for the flowers in her garden. 

I would have given anything to have preserved that room in its ideal state, to have protected the associations it held, the artifacts that inspired me to read, write, paint, sketch, and work with wood. It offered a tangible link to my grandparents--particularly my grandmother--which was precious to me. But it is an incontestable rule of life that one cannot protect what one does not own. Time, circumstances, and people have torn that room, and all those accompanying feelings of belonging and safety, away from me. Still, I can preserve it, my home-away-from-home, in my memory. I may never be able to recreate what was lost, but I can commemorate my special place, and honor my Grandmother's impact on my life, by recreating my sacred retreat in my sketch book. 

How can you best honor a place that once meant the world to you? And how might doing so prove beneficial for your life?

Dragon Dave

St Luke The Ox

A collection of agricultural equipment
in the Torquay Museum in England

Last month, I attended church to find the congregation celebrating the Feast of St. Luke. As Luke was a physician who attended Paul on his missionary journeys, we recited the litany of healing. Then everyone in the congregation was ushered up to the altar to be anointed. As two members of my family were facing debilitating illness and infirmity, I thought of and prayed for their healing. 

During the sermon, the priest mentioned that Saint Luke was associated with the symbol of the ox, which farmers in previous eras used to plow their fields. I found the way he described the association powerful, and so I picked up my sketch pad and started drawing.

That night, we received a phone call. One of the relatives I had prayed for during the healing service was in the hospital, about to undergo an operation. The prognosis was not good. This situation threw our normal lives out the window. We packed up and got on the road to be there, and help him and other family members in any way we could.

The days spent in the hospital gave me time to finish the drawing I started in church. Interestingly, in addition to serving as the patron saint of physicians, St. Luke is also a patron for artists. 

Now, the only question remains: do my efforts qualify me for his patronage?

Dragon Dave

A Feeding Frenzy on a Bideford Barge

After enjoying the Burton Art Gallery, and walking the streets of Bideford, I noticed many of the shops were closing up. So we headed back to the car, thinking of stopping off at the local Morrison's supermarket before we headed back to our lodging in Milton Damerel. But I knew it would take us a minimum of an hour to get back, and as we still had plenty of light, I suggested we return to the barge so I could finish my sketch. 

Reclaiming our table from lunch, we enjoyed another alfresco meal. Then I got busy with my drawing. When we had last been here, the old ship next to the barge had been untouched by the water.

Now the River Torridge had surrounded the time-worn vessel in its loving embrace.

It was easy to think of Charles Kingsley's description of the gleaming white houses of Bideford as I worked.

Others no doubt found their surroundings equally inspiring.

After awhile, the cook, who was finishing up his day's labors in the hot kitchen, came on deck and banged a bucket of scraps against the rails. He wanted to attract the attention of the ducks nearby. But if they took note of his signals, they failed to respond. So he dumped his container of scraps overboard.

Needless to say, they did not go to waste. 

Is this what you call a feeding frenzy?

Ultimately, my holiday sketching work ethic overcame even my wife's patience, and so finishing my sketch would have to wait until another day. I worked on it, a little each day, until I was satisfied with it. 

It may not be the greatest achievement of all time, but it reminds me of my visit to Bideford whenever I look at it. And that, far more than any pride in my artistic abilities, makes me smile.

Dragon Dave

A View of Weycroft

In the English country of Somerset, there's a beautiful village called Weycroft, near the town of Axminster. There we found a cozy room for the night, in the Weycroft Mill House Bed & Breakfast. 

After taking out time for a rest, and a relaxing cup of tea, I looked out the window.

Others found the view as pleasant as I did.

While other visitors arrived, checked-in, then headed off to nearby restaurants for dinner, I sat down by the window and sketched. We paused for a picnic dinner outside, then we headed back upstairs and I got back to my sketching. 

In the morning, I squeezed in a little sketching before breakfast, then headed down to enjoy the Goose Egg & Cheese omelets we had ordered the evening before. Then, as it was raining, we decided to stay a little longer before we set out on our next adventure. This allowed me even more time to work on my drawing.

As England sits at a higher latitude than San Diego, this makes it a great place for sketching. Or at least during summer, when it gets light before six a.m., and is still light after nine p.m. I imagine Alaska or Iceland would be even better places to sketch during the summer, as they sit even higher up on the globe, but we might have more trouble sleeping there, if it's light twenty-four hours a day.

Anyway, I'm so grateful for those long, English summer days. 

Dragon Dave

Related Internet Links
Weycroft Mill House at Booking.com

The Dinosaur Picnic

Security passed-through, 

Boarding passes in hand,

We lugged our carry-ons,

Up to the gate.

While others shook,

Anxious to fly,

I felt reluctant,

To leave home behind.

So out came the sketchbook.

Crowds and noises faded,

And reluctance departed,

Amid dreams of home.

Dragon Dave

Trees with Faces and Homeless Spectators

Remember the tree I started drawing last month? Well, I've been back a couple times. Using my Artist Loft Watercolor pencils, I've deepened the colors, and made progress with the background.

Recently, my wife and I headed down to Balboa Park for the weekend. A friend gave us tickets to the Reuben H. Fleet Space Theater, and we planned on seeing a movie about whales. We decided to make an evening of it, so we packed up some sandwiches, chips, and drinks, as well as our sketching stuff.

Outside the space theater, there's a large public fountain, in which children like to play, surrounded by a number of trees. As we had some time before the movie, my wife and I sat down at a table outside. My wife worked on the fountain. I started in on the foremost tree, using my new Prismacolor pencils with the softer lead.

A young woman occupied a nearby table when we arrived. She took no interest in us, absorbed as she was by her smart phone. Shortly after we arrived, an asian family took up a table behind us, and chattered away in their language, punctuated by the occasional spicy* English word. 

Then a black gentleman arrived. With his dark jacket, short dreadlocks, and black hat, he looked like just another tourist. He sat down at a nearby chair, and then occupied himself by moving it a little every other minute. Then he sat in another chair, and started moving around in that.

After awhile, I think he moved to a chair near the asians, and did his little nervous-chair movements until they left. Finally, he sat down next to us, moved his chair directly between us, and leaned forward to watch us. While I was honored by his interest in our artistic endeavors, I can't say I felt entirely at ease. Nevertheless, we continued to sketch until a few minutes before showtime, then packed up and entered the Space Theater.

After the movie, we had planned to resume our places, eat our dinner, and finish our sketches. But the black gentleman was still sitting out there, albeit alone in a crowd of tables and chairs. (I wonder why). So we carried our packs off to another area of the park, where we spread out a blanket, and ate our picnic dinner. We watched the planes that passed overhead, flying in to land at San Diego International Airport. And we studied this nearby tree. 

I don't know about you, but this tree reminds me of TV shows I watched in my youth. It just seems as though it should have a nose, and that, if we look carefully, one of its eyes will open. Either that, or the bark on the trunk will part, revealing a hidden passage into the bowels of the Earth. Personally, I prefer the first thought**: that the tree was alive, and as fascinated by me as I was by it. Perhaps I'll return to sketch it someday. But first, I'd like to finish my sketch of the tree and the fountain in front of the Space Theater.

Dragon Dave

* Spicy: a type of word not used on polite blogs, often composed of only four letters.
**I prefer faces to bowels. Don't you?

On Stealing Hercule Poirot's Tree

Recently, my wife gave me a new set of colored pencils, and a new sketch book in which to use them.

These pencils offered softer lead than my old set, and more color choices. I took them with me to my wife's doctor's office last week, and while she went inside, I sat in the car. I was fascinated by a tree directly in front of me, one with no green leaves on it, and the bark cracking and falling off. I sketched the outline of it with my mechanical pencil, in as much detail as I could, then started a color chart with my new pencils.

This week, as I drove my wife to the doctor's, I hoped I could get the same parking spot. As I pulled in the driveway, I saw the space was free, and happily pulled into it. Then my wife said "They took your tree," and I looked up.

They had! They had cut down my tree!

The thing is, they actually stole Hercule Poirot's tree, as I had planned on inserting him into the picture this time. I also discovered something else. All the bark of my tree had been shades of gray (just like Poirot's little grey cells), and I didn't have a single gray in my new set. Not a one! So, by using my mechanical pencil, as well as black, white, and brown, I colored in the tree as best I could. Then I set to work on drawing Hercule Poirot.

Bon!

As these new colored pencils had softer lead, they laid down color more quickly. But they also seemed to have more trouble doing so uniformly. Obviously, I've got a lot of learning to do with my new pencil set. Still, I feel pretty good about Hercule Poirot. I suppose my tree will have to do, as it was the best I could make it with the colors on hand. In any case, the famous detective seems to have discovered the scene of a violent crime. I wonder if he'll discover any valuable clues to help him solve his case.

Or maybe the police requisitioned the tree as evidence. That's possible, right?

Dragon Dave

An Altar, A Dragon-Ship, and Leaves

This week, my mother and friend stayed with us while they attended their denomination's district assembly. I attended the afternoon session, where I finished this sketch. I began this back during the Christmas season, which lasts for a few weeks into the New Year in the Anglican calendar. I started with the altar, the plant stands, and the flowers, but it took me awhile to get most of those details right, and I worked on other drawings too. 

A confession: As I didn't attend church each Sunday, the process stretched out, and the will to finish waned.

On Easter Sunday, I started putting in the background, and working on the candle stands, as well as adding some more details. Then I went back to pursuing other projects.

I nearly finished the drawing during this week's afternoon assembly session, while various speakers shared their views on worship (appropriately enough), discipleship, and district budgets. Later, at home, I finished with metallic pencils, and a few last details with the new artist-quality pencils my wife gave me.

"You're doing artist quality artwork," she told me. "You're ready for artist-quality pencils."

The next day, I attended the missionary convention with my mother and friend. One of the most interesting presentations was on one congregation's work-and-witness trip to Cuba. What a change! A decade ago, you couldn't visit the country legally, and if you did finagle a way there, for any reason, the Internal Revenue Service would send you a bill to penalize you. I really enjoyed seeing the group help build church buildings, worship with locals, and all the 1950s cars driving along in the streets. Anyway, thoughts of travel must have inspired me. I kind of like the ship, although my zeppelin definitely needs work. I have trouble seeing it as artist-quality, but I did enjoy drawing it. 

Maybe I'll have to give it another shot sometime.

After I finished it, I excused myself from the meeting, took a walk, and then found a tree in the courtyard that inspired me. So in 20-30 minutes, I started another drawing.

Remember how I spent about two hours trying to draw a tree in Hawaii a couple years ago, but couldn't figure out how to do the leaves? While I appreciate my wife's encouragement, I recognize that I've got a long way to go as an artist. Still, it's nice to recognize progress and growth. I should read more about sketching. Heck, I should read any book on sketching. Still, maybe I've stumbled upon a better way of depicting flowers and leaves. I have high hopes for this one, that the final result may somehow transcend my previous sketches, and put my work on a new plateau. I'm under no illusions that I have any great talent in this area. But my limited practice has proven artist Mike Bocianowski's words true: as with any endeavor in life, if you want to do something, practice will help you get better at it, and spur on your creativity. 

Sometimes it's even fun.

Dragon Dave

An Important Picture

A few Sundays ago, I decided to draw a cross in church. Then, because the flowers on the altar called to me, I decided to draw those too. 

While I drew, the priest spoke about how Christianity was different from other religions. It had its own unique identity, and those who advocate syncretism, or believe that all religions as essentially the same, rob Christianity (or any religion) of its uniqueness. 

On Mother's Day, I attended my mother's church. Her pastor shared with us his love of Church History, and studying the ancient Christian fathers, such as St. Anselm and Martin Luther. The thing I came away from the service with was his assertion that, while God is often regarded as a Father, many of the Church fathers portrayed him as a Mother. He also spoke about the special role a mother plays in a traditional marriage, and how society's attempts to modernize the household, as well as the role of women, have robbed women and mother's of dignity and fulfillment. 

Oh, and at one point, he also mentioned that he had watched "Dragonheart 3," and that the dragon in the movie wasn't very nice. So we should be more like mothers, not dragons, apparently. I can't judge, as I haven't seen the movie, but this seems strange to me. I remember liking the dragons in the first two movies, and thinking they were good role models. In any case, while I enjoyed most of his sermon, on this issue I disagree. There are good mothers, and good dragons, and yes, even good dragon-mothers. So there.

Anyway, I added to the picture while he spoke, as you can see below.

The next Sunday I added to the ground, filling it in with grass and other plants, and deepening the colors. As I drew, the priest shared with us how he had taken an icon with him during a sabbatical in Ireland. During his months there, he would look at the picture in his room, and this kept him centered. He suggested that we all need things that keep us centered, that remind us of who we are, and who we yearn to be. What those may be for any particular person will be as different and unique as we all are.

I also worked on the picture while waiting for my wife during two doctor visits. Time in the reception room flew by as I drew. And then, suddenly, it was finished.

At my mother's church, a friend's brother remarked after the service, "That sure must be an important picture you're working on." I'm not sure how important this particular picture is, either to me, or in the scheme of things. I did enjoy drawing it. Hopefully, the picture has its own unique importance and dignity, and conveys something that helps keep me centered. But I suspect that its real importance in my life was the actual drawing of it, not the final result.

Dragon Dave

An Ascension Day Sketch

Whether or not you're religious, I'm sure you'll agree that some of our most vivid stories originate from what we call scriptures. One story, which holds particular power with Christians, is that of Jesus' ascension.

I began this picture in church one Sunday, drawing the image of a white life-size plaster figure hanging on the wall high above our heads. (At least, I assume it's plaster: it's too high up to tell). Somehow, over a period of weeks, and various sermons, it transformed into this. I think the mention in the bulletin of a special Ascension Day service must have influenced the final result.

Today, wherever you are, and whatever you believe, Happy Ascension Day. May your thoughts and spirits be elevated today!

Dragon Dave

Taking A Year To Sketch Sam The Eagle

I visited the San Diego Safari Park twice last year. Both times my wife and I sketched the lagoon.

The way these Shoebill Storks survey the world with self-important eyes reminds me of Sam the Eagle, from The Muppet Show. I wonder if the Shoebills see themselves as the leaders of the lagoon, and insist upon a certain level of conduct among the remaining avian population. 

They're called Shoebills because (Shock! Amazement!) their bills are shaped like shoes. Hence, their appearance of self-importance, just like Sam the Eagle. But then, people who view themselves as moral icons, and hand down their important views on life from their perches on their pedestals, often look as though they've lodged a foot firmly in their mouths.

Either that, or like Maxwell Smart, they work for CONTROL, and are still using those outdated Shoe Phones.

Lots of other birds enjoyed the lagoon this weekend, including egrets, coots, Nene geese, and a Black Crowned Night Heron. These young Whistler ducks practiced the buddy system. I thought them especially cute. Perhaps they'll make it in to a later sketch.

The island on the lagoon bore little resemblance to the way it looked a year ago, when I started the sketch. It was also strikingly different last Fall, when I continued it.

It felt good to finish my sketch, even if it took me a year to complete. Maybe next time I visit the San Diego Safari Park, I'll sketch the Whistlers. Either that, or maybe I'll finish the sketch I started of the Asian Elephants on last year's visit.

Dragon Dave