Tag Archives: New England

Strawbery Banke sketch by Chandler O'Leary

Banke of Colonials

Where I live in the Pacific Northwest, there’s pretty much zero architecture that predates 1850; but I grew up in New England, where early American buildings are abundant. And as you can probably guess, I absolutely adore colonial houses—so I go a little nuts when I get the chance to sketch a whole neighborhood chock full of ’em.

RISD Nature Lab sketch by Chandler O'Leary

Life (or death) drawing

Speaking of taxidermy, Wednesday’s post reminded me of my trip back to Providence a couple of years ago, to show the Tailor around my old city and my alma mater. He was politely interested in my tour of the campus, but I knew he’d completely freak out (and I was right, he did) when I showed him my favorite haunt of all: the Nature Lab.

I can’t tell you how many hours I’ve spent in this place, but needless to say, this building was a second home for three years of my life. Now before you think I’m a total nutcase for spending all that time in a room full of dead things, let me explain. The Nature Lab exists for a very specific purpose: to provide real, no-kidding, three-dimensional reference material for drawing.

RISD feels very strongly (and if you read this blog, you know I do, too) about the importance of drawing from life. When you sketch something tangible, right in front of you, all sorts of sneaky extra knowledge (understanding of anatomy and structure! A real grasp of 3-D space! An interest in science!) takes root in your brain, making you a far better artist than any photograph ever could. In this age of Google image searches and the Inter-tubes’ enabling of half-baked research, this stuff is more important than ever.

RISD Nature Lab sketch by Chandler O'Leary

The Nature Lab was founded in 1937—and it remains remarkably unchanged today. So the result is a stunning combination of natural history museum and down-home lending library. RISD still operates its specimen collections as if the Internet never existed, and I love that (ask me sometime about the glorious Picture Collection—their circulating library of half a million physical image clippings!).

RISD Nature Lab sketch by Chandler O'Leary

When I was a student here, I was mostly entranced by sketching the individual objects in the collection. (I mean, how often do you get to touch a baboon skull?) But now it’s the overall effect of the whole that gets me. This place is the ultimate cabinet of curiosities—and proof that you really can get lost in one room.

RISD Nature Lab sketch by Chandler O'Leary

Hilltop Steakhouse sketch by Chandler O'Leary

The last roundup

I couldn’t be here in person for this, and I haven’t actually eaten here since I was a kid. But Giuffrida’s has been a familiar (and completely incongruous) landmark on countless drives north of Boston over the years, and this is the first neon sign I ever loved. So when my dad told me it was closing after over fifty years, I dug out a blurry old photograph I had, and whipped up this sketch. It’s not the same as sketching the real thing, but I’m sorry to say it’s too late for that now. Apparently even the shiny fiberglass cows have been rounded up and carted off.

I have no idea what on earth a giant neon saguaro cactus and a ranch-themed restaurant was doing just ten miles from Bunker Hill. But I’m so glad it was there to be one of the first points of interest on my mental map.

Boston colonial cemetery sketch by Chandler O'Leary

I see dead people

Okay, you’re going to think I’m a total weirdo for getting so excited over bunch of headstones (and I have many, many more sketches than these…), but since it’s Halloween this week, I figured I could get away with it. I have to tell you, I have a serious, major thing for colonial graveyards. My grandfather loved them, too. As a lifelong, dyed-in-the-wool New England Yankee, he knew where all the good ones were. I used to take the train up from Providence and then drive him around three states (uh, about a thirty mile radius, ’round those parts…) in his car, while he showed me all the best, oldest, and weirdest headstones he could remember, in every little town and village. If you want a whole colony’s worth of specimens in one place, though, you can’t beat Boston. My two favorite burial grounds there are like little cities, in and of themselves.

But I’m not into 300-year-old headstones for any normal reason, like colonial history or possible genealogical discoveries (though I’m not knockin’ that stuff). I love them because they’re literally monuments to early graphic design. Great typography? Check. Graphic symbolism? Heck, yeah. Amazingly inventive, refined and creepy illustration? In spades.

(Sorry. I can’t resist a grave-digging pun—not this close to Halloween.)

Boston colonial cemetery sketch by Chandler O'Leary

Boston commuter train sketch by Chandler O'Leary

T-time

Twice in my life (about 15 years apart) I’ve lived within an hour of Boston; and a couple of years ago I got to show the Tailor around my old stomping grounds. The city’s undergone a lot of transformations in recent years (Big Dig, I’m looking at you), but I love that the trip in on the T has hardly changed at all.

As we approached the city, I glanced at the system map to decide where to go first. As I read, the name of each stop triggered a flood of memories and images, all arranged by the cardinal directions, rather than by the years. This is probably why I love maps so much. Not only do they describe and organize a particular place—they also catalogue my entire relationship to that place. For unfamiliar cities, I love watching my mental map grow from a blank slate to a rough sketch and beyond. For places like Boston, the grid in my head is chock-a-block with minute, accurate (though sometimes obsolete) details, annotated pictures and pinned moments in time.

How about you? Do you have a place where your memories unfold like a treasure map? Or somewhere you know so well that every subway stop tells a personal story?

Boston T map sketch by Chandler O'Leary

Covered bridge sketch by Chandler O'Leary

Giddy up, Ichabod

I have a thing for covered bridges—and thankfully, many other people do, too. That means the communities that possess these relics work hard to preserve them, and I’m grateful that there are still covered bridges for me to sketch. And each one is so wonderfully sketch-able, because they’re all so different.

The Cornish-Winsor Bridge, which straddles the New Hampshire-Vermont border, is one of my all-time favorites. And not just because of the two-dolla fine notice, either (though if any Sleepy Hollow ghouls chase me I’m stayin’ on my hoss). For me, the best part is how absurdly long the span is.

Have you ever crossed a covered bridge? Which one is your favorite?

Covered bridge sketch by Chandler O'Leary