Tindaisies

Left: Original drawing and Right: Pancake doll based on drawing

Harold Wideman

Harold is prototype number 2 in my pancake doll project. The first was Alice O’Grady.  Harold is the father in  The Widemans vs the Narrowsmiths (link this) story that I drew three years ago.

Harold went together easier than Alice.  Reasons for this include a rudimentary pattern was already made and a procedure had been established – and the Jeff Beck CD didn’t seem to hurt, either.  =D

Front

Back

The biggest change I made with Harold was opting to embroider his facial features (and the hairy chest) rather than using permanent marker.

I really like the effect of the outlining stitches, they seem more “definite” and appropriate for a sewn object. The lenses in his glasses are painted on the cloth with acrylic paint. I also elected to not sew the limbs at the elbows and knees because that seemed to stiffen them which was opposite to the effect I’d wished for.

The hair was sewn directly into the seam where the front of the head joins the back, exactly like Alice’s hair only much shorter.

Solomon Grundy

Where does the time go? Why does it seem the older we get, the faster time flies? The weeks zip by in a blink. I design a quarterly publication, three months pass by and before I know it, I am in meetings again.  I had my first meeting for the summer issue, today. As if that’s not enough, I’m staring at another approaching birthday in the upcoming week, in fact, I know a number of people whose birthdays are in April, but now I’m prattling – just practicing for my old age (which is how many quarterlies away)?

Solomon Grundy’s  entire life blows by in one short week.  The verse is  a 19th century nursery rhyme and each day represents the Seven Ages of Man. I admit, I like the Sesame Street version better:  poor Solomon Grundy washes a part of his left side each day and at the end of the week, only half of him is clean.

Solomon Grundy,
Born on a Monday,
Christened on Tuesday,
Married on Wednesday,
Took ill on Thursday,
Grew worse on Friday,
Died on Saturday,
Buried on Sunday.
That was the end
Of Solomon Grundy

This is my entry for this week’s Illustration Friday prompt “Fleeting”

Homage to Muffin

Contour drawing, graphite, pastel, coloured pencil and conte on Murano paper.

Three muffins on a plate:  lemon cranberry,  chocolate chip and raisin.

This drawing is for Inspire Me Thursday’s prompt, breakfast. Unfortunately I was late for breakfast as the prompt was for last week… but I did bring muffins.

This is a simple contour drawing. My intention was to draw this in one continuous line, without lifting the pencil, but I added the background later, so I cheated.

So out of the three, what’s your favourite? Mine is raisin.

Then one morning, there was a curious advertisement in the newspaper.

Mrs Spratch took her baby and the sock monkeys to 70 Prince Albert Road. She paused before climbing the stairs to apartment 19A. Strange exotic drawings had been scribbled on the walls and the building hinted of previous splendour.

Whoever L. Enza was, Mrs Spratch was steadfast in her resolve to find a cure for her baby’s Melancholy

This is another Spratch drawing,  you can see the other drawings in this series here.

Although Lucy Spratch wasn’t the happiest or most carefree child, her worries were few. Her mother often let Lucy do as she pleased and did not interfere by nagging if she had brushed her teeth or that she shouldn’t engage in activities such as walking under ladders, stepping on cracks or drifting about the neighbourhood on her own.

This is another Spratch drawing, once again you can see the other drawings in this series here

When Lucy Spratch grew older, she discovered numerous sealed jars with small figures enclosed in them, hidden in the backyard shed. She pretended they were her friends. As she played, she discovered that instinctively she knew their names.

This is part of the series of Mrs Spratch drawings that I began a year ago. You can see the rest of the drawings HERE

In this drawing, Lucy Spratch is the inordinately heavy baby grown into a young child.

I’m the worst for projecting personalities onto inanimate objects. For this reason, it makes me sad to see a single mitten left in a snow bank. There’s a giant spruce tree in the front yard of our house and one day I noticed the bumps and cracks in the bark made a smirking face that stared at you when you stood in the right place in the window.

Unfortunately, a gale force wind blew up one winter afternoon about 4 years ago, snapping the tree in half and taking the face with it.

Which brings me to pies. The vents slashed in pastry have always reminded me of sleepy eyes. Next time you walk into a bakery and stand in front of the pies, look very closely to see if any of them are furtively sneaking a peek at you

They visited doctors, researchers and scientists but all were of similar opinion. Baby Spratch’s affliction was intriguing from a professional standpoint, but they could do nothing to help the child.

This is another Spratch drawing,  you can see the other drawings in this series here.

One morning, Mrs. Spratch warmly bundled Baby Spratch in the inky black wool blanket that seemed to be the only thing that settled down the poor little scrap.  She called for the sock monkeys and together they set off to see the first in a lengthy line of medical professionals.

This is another Spratch drawing, once again you can see the other drawings in this series here

The baby didn’t care for her toys, not even her teddy bear. All she was happy wearing was an inky black wool blanket. As hard as she tried, Mrs Spratch discovered that solace could not be found. Mrs Spratch was at her wits’ end.

This is another Spratch drawing, once again you can see the other drawings in this series here