You probably know by now that when I draw in my sketchbook, I’m usually looking to fill a whole page spread with a finished scene. Sometimes, though, that’s just not possible. On the day I made this sketch, I was riding in the back seat of a rideshare van, craning my neck to catch any details I could of the landscape. The other passengers must have thought I was nuts as I jotted down any interesting snippet we passed—but at least I can remember something (if not much) of that afternoon.
Speaking of quiet places, usually the last place I’d think of as meditative is the airport. In fact, airports are usually at the top of the list of places that send my stress levels sky high (yet another reason I’m not a huge fan of flying).
I should have known better about the Asheville airport, though. Of course it was a relaxing spot. Of course they had rocking chairs all over the place. After all, I was in the state that has elevated porch-sitting into an art form. The day I did this sketch should have been stressful—I ended up dealing with lots of delays and cancellations and things that normally make my head spin. But as long as I could sit in a rocking chair and stare at the mountains, I was ready for whatever the FAA might throw at me.
This is what happens when you let a bunch of artists build a garden wall. Somehow, I doubt this is something you’d see on HGTV, but it definitely confirms that these are my kinda people.
This might be a holiday weekend for a lot of people, but some seriously looming deadlines mean it’ll be a working weekend at my house. So while I might normally imagine traveling to exotic locales to pass the time in the studio — this time I have a feeling I’ll be dreaming of nothing more than a nice comfy chair.
My friend Jessica and I had the opportunity to teach a letterpress class at Penland last year. For one glorious week we got to immerse ourselves in Penland’s unique studio culture. Somehow these folks seem to have figured out the secret to bringing out an artist’s best work.
Step one: put them in a beautiful, rural setting (with spotty phone/wifi so as to avoid distractions).
Step two: provide them with top-notch studio equipment—
—and lots of work time to get sucked into the deep end.
Step three: take care of their basics human needs.
Room and board are part of the deal at Penland—but while the housing is simple and spare, the food sure ain’t. I wrote “three squares a day” in my sketchbook, but it’s really more like “three dodecahedrons a day.” Just like a hearty meal might sustain a farmer on a harvest day, I think the secret to creative genius might just be a piping hot bowl of cheese grits and a dish of apple Brown Betty.
This Yankee is here to tell you: you can’t beat Southern cookin’ for surviving a long day in the studio.
The winding river channels in the sketch I posted on Wednesday reminded me of the unusual hiking “trails” they have on the campus of the Penland School of Crafts. They’re just mown right into the grass of the huge central meadow in front of the school. From up the hill, it looks like some sort of fairy maze.
Considering the otherworldly haze of the Blue Ridge Mountains surrounding the spot on all sides, I’d believe it.
I don’t know if there’s something about the Blue Ridge Mountains, or about the pace of life in the mountains of the South, or what. But whenever I had a free moment during my visit to Penland last summer, I had an irresistible urge to sit back in a deck chair and stare out into the hills.
Good thing there was ample opportunity. North Carolina is chock full of comfy, inviting chairs and gorgeous views—as soon as I saw that, I knew we were going to get along famously.
