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Wednesday 9 October 2019

Pen and ink sketches, free downloads.

2nd October 2019.

After a busy morning doing essential jobs I popped over to Etton and South Dalton to try sketching.
Here is the Etton sketch, from today.
I would like you to download and add colour, I have just added a little colour for you to see how it changes the picture. My friends at the Spectrum Art Society may find these of interest in preparing for an upcoming talk and demonstration soon.



Pen and ink, a view from the car as horses trotted by.

The next day, 3rd October was National poetry Day and so I thought to record a narrative of the day, part prose, part narrative. Here it is....


Etton



I stop the car,
Near the filling pond
In Main Street.
And from inside
Look for something to draw.
CLIP CLOP,
CLIP CLOP.
A high rider passes by and looks blankly
At my empty ....
blank page
A story to tell.

Some distance ahead
I see a cottage
With steep, thatch gabled, walls
(It is just past the Light Dragoon).
Though now dressed in pan-tiles it remains
A venerable, vernacular vision, 
Keeping it's memories fabric quiet.
CLIP CLOP,
CLIP CLOP

A beautiful white horse,
Or should I say GREY?
It is huge,
Walks past my window
Driven by a helmet wearing woman,
With fair hair,
Or should I say blonde?
Towards the Light Dragoon,
Though not charging
It moves,
Lazily,
Deceptively,
Quickly.
CLIP CLOP,
CLIP CLOP.

I carry on drawing,
Noticing the describing shadows
Cast across the
unusually,
broad road,
A movement to my left?
Yes,
A horse head pushed through the dense thicket
Is looking at me,
And I smile,
And In my mind, say Hello.
CLIP CLOP,
CLIP CLOP

A woman approaches, turns and
Walks to the hedge,
Walks to a hidden gate,
Greeting the horse
Which gets some attention,
Featuring a harness and perhaps an apple,
Though,
most of all, and
What we all need,
And yet hear less,
A soft spoken word.

Perhaps the horse,
I realise,
Was not looking at me, 
But rather wisely,
Knowing the time,
Was looking for
Those sweet soft words
Those sweet soft words
Those sweet soft words
CLIP CLOP,
CLIP CLOP.
A horse,
A horse
On long legs towers past,
It is the colour of sun bleached soil,
Ridden by a man
In a faded, 
Felt covered
Olive hat,
He sits high
Silhouetted against a
Weak blue sky.

Now I begin to hatch,
The house
Without thatch,
It will do now,
I think,
Completed in pen and ink...



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