When the train pulled into the Montrose Street station, an older gentleman wearing a fedora boarded my car. Normally I wouldn’t have thought twice about him. But moments after the train pulled out of the station he began to loudly yell into a slice of mango, which he held to his ear as if it were a cell phone.
A woman who was seated next to me saw what I had written and laughed. Then she pointed to a rough drawing I’d sketched out in the margins and asked if I was an artist. I told her that I was.
Notebooks are full of secrets, and hopes, and plans. They’re a place for private reflection, for rants and raves. They’re for making lists and making art and everything in between.
When the lawyer from the L train clued me in to the importance of her own notebook, I knew that I wanted to share this part of my artistic process with the world.
When it comes to these Makewell Art notebooks, you can judge a book by its cover. I hope that these Makewell Art notebooks bring you as much clarity and creativity as my sketchbooks have always brought me.
She was poignant. And hideous.
I named her Venus.Read More
Spring has sprung, and Brooklyn has a new attitude.Read More
Becoming an artist starts with taking off your shoes.Read More
New year, new art studio – new creative direction.Read More