We've had a week of truly warm weather, at long last. The lilacs and honeysuckle are in bloom, the tulips fading, the trees in full leaf: I think most Montrealers are ready to declare that summer has arrived.
I've been picking flowers from my garden and as usual they've been making their way into my sketchbook - even the last of these tulips, just before the petals fell.
And when I haven't had sculptural plant forms to draw, there's always my desk and its array of objects.
This morning I went out onto the terrace with my coffee, and did this sketch on the final page of my current sketchbook. I've been anxious to finish it (the book, that is.) Looking through, I find the pages filled with the interiority of winter and "home", both in the focus on still life and everyday objects, and the accompanying mental state. I've learned a lot in keeping up this practice, and it was good for me in the same way as a written journal: a practice of observing and setting-down that helped me feel grounded and centered, absorbed in the task and the moment, even on days when it was the only thing that felt that way. I think there was also a desire to maintain a certain tone and theme in that particular sketchbook, which I began a year and a half ago. But now I'm ready to begin a new one, moving outward for a while into the streets and parks, the botanical garden, and maybe some figurative explorations. We'll see!