Everything is moving forward on the new house.  I started buying (only started because buying a house is a month long process) an old cottage in Beaverton, complete with a great yard, and an extra room I can use for a bigger studio.  I've really outgrown my existing space, so i bit the bullet and started arranging a move.

It's not an easy thing to do, there are a blizzard of details.  Thankfully, I have a very good broker managing the whole process.  Overwhelming as it is, there is light at the end of the tunnel, and closing is next week, when I can finally start moving stuff from one house to the next.  I don't have much renovation planned, the new studio is pretty much ready to go, and I'll post photos as soon as I get up and running.

My college professor once told me if I wanted to write well, then not only write every day, but read every day.  Reading is as important as writing, she explained, because it exposes you to what is good.  Study how accomplished writers compose their sentences, hear their voices, examine their styles.  Every book became my teacher, and every writer could teach me something if I paid attention.  Read a book, practice what you learned, and get better.  Today I no longer write.  I know my writing is far from the quality it was when I wrote everyday, but I didn't forget the lesson, and I apply it to my artwork every day.

I spend each morning with the easel, and each evening with a book, or magazine, or website, all of which contain pictures I can look at.  Some pictures inspire me to work harder, try harder; some do not, but from all of them I can learn something. 

Maybe not so strangely, I learn a great deal from photographs.  I've come to believe what I try capturing with a pencil is not so different from what a photographer tries capturing with a camera.  When I see beautiful ways a camera can capture light and tone, I think of ways to better capture light and tone on paper.  Just like reading, looking at pictures teaches much about how to make a picture.

But sometimes the work is so good it's intimidating.  I had a chance to see for myself a photograph by Philip-Lorca diCorcia at Quality Pictures, a gallery here in Portland.  Quality Pictures hasn't been open long, but their focus is largely photography, an artform long neglected in Portland, and as their name suggests, the works on display are consistently excellent.  One of those pieces is a photograph by diCorcia, which, as I understand, is in the gallery owner's collection.  It's a compelling piece, shot on the streets of Tokyo, exquisitely lit and powerful in its size.  As an artist, I admire such work greatly, then feel that gnawing insecurity that I can never produce anything close to that good.

On the other hand, while it is true that such talent does not exist in most of us, it doesn't mean I can't apply whatever simple talents I do have to their fullest.  It's about learning what is good and why it's good, the lesson on reading all over again, that makes a craftsman better, and such images definitely make me want to practice more and be better.

What do you do when the movers arrive a day early?  Well, let them move, of course.  I don't mind, although it does force me to quickly and clumsily adjust my schedule, but how can I stop workers who are eager to work?

The moving truck was scheduled to arrive on 14 March, but instead came on the 13th.  No real problem there, they graciously worked around the contractor fixing the wall, but I was caught a bit off guard.  Thankfully they appeared before I left for the bus, so no harm done.

Everything is now in boxes and ready to go to the new digs.  I'm happy, although the boxes look pretty bland.  I'll paint pictures on them and make them less dreary.

Since it will still be at least a week before I get the new studio up and running, I put together my travel kit, pencils, erasers, small sketch pad, stumps, rags, anything that would fit in the pockets of my field coat.  It will give me a chance to work, or practice, until I can get back to larger pieces.  The only thing I couldn't fit into my pockets was a few brushes.

I use brushes more than anything else to blend graphite on the paper.  I apply it with pencil, then move it around and finish it with brushes.  Stumps, rags, cosmetic sponges, and all other items I use are secondary to the brushes; a finishing or textural touch.  And since I work at an easel and like to stand back from the work in progress, a long handle is imperative, although not so travel friendly.

I went looking for some new brushes, those I could pack around, yet still use with effectiveness.  Plus, my brushes are very old and quite worn.  Over time the bristles fill with graphite (I never clean my brushes) and can themselves be used to apply tone to paper.  I've got a good feel for what they will do and can use them with pencils accordingly.  Replacing them will require learning new tools all over again, and since I rarely replace brushes, it also means learning old technique all over again.

Which presents a key advantage in a travel kit.  I can re-learn how to break in  a brush in my sketchbook.  Great opportunity to start replacing the brushes too worn to use much longer. 

Art Media is a good lunchtime destination with a good selection of brushes.  Too good, sometimes, and the choices can be a little much for my simple application.  But knowing what I'm after helps, so I was soon browsing for small, flat, stiff bristle brushes able to stand rigorous use.  Some of the house brands were either too soft or quickly shed bristles.  Like many art stores, Art Media generously provides paper for brush testing before purchase.  My apologies for shedding a few bristles, but the clerk on duty was more than understanding of my needs.

 None of the brushes good for my use had short handles, so in the end I chose 2 Winsor and Newton hog hair student grade brushes with the intent of sawing them short and stuffing them in my pockets for use abroad.  I have a few of these in my studio already that see regular use and they hold up great.  They take hard use, hold their bristles, and are very economically priced.  They'll suit me fine until I get things back to normal.

The new studio is almost up and running.  I finally got the space cleared of boxes over the weekend, and my work area is set up and functional.  While I can now work inside again, there is still more work to do.  I want to build some shelves so I'm not storing everything on the floor, but plan to do that only after taking up the carpet and refinishing the floor.  I'll have some pictures up soon.

Spring is here, which means baseball and books about baseball.  It's one of the few times I read anything for pleasure, and while I'm not a great baseball fan, nor avid reader, I enjoy a good baseball story.  Gehrig's is one of the greatest baseball stories, and also one of the saddest, but even knowing the outcome, I still went out of my way to read Luckiest Man by Jonathan Eig.

I'm aware of this book having seen it recommended by Curt Schilling, who's blog is a great read in itself.  The recommendation is worthwhile; Luckiest Man is a well researched documentary of the life and career of Lou Gehrig.  Predictable as it may be for its emotional impact, Eig's writing and attention to detail lead you through both the up and down of Gehrig's story as if it were new.

Eig's narrative however, if there is any shortcoming, even if a necessary one, is as burdened with the shadow of Babe Ruth as Gehrig's career.  Gehrig played all his years constantly compared to Ruth, they were the premier hitters of the time, but somehow managed to etch his own identity on the game.  It wouldn't be possible for Eig to tell the story without mentioning Ruth, but on a rare occasion or two I wondered if I wasn't reading a book about the Babe.

Acknowledging the closeness of Gehrig's story to Ruth's, even if the men share no personality traits, Eig succeeds in finding fact and accuracy, correcting some known myths with unknown (to me at least) facts, such as the myth of Wally Pipp's headache.  Legend has it Yankee starting first baseman Wally Pipp complained to the manager of a headache and was replaced by Gehrig, who played every game, without exception, for the next fourteen years.  The longest streak of consecutive games played until broken by Cal Ripken Jr.

In truth, Pipp's headache did not get him replaced, the manager had already made a change in a prior game, starting Gehrig and a number of other young players to spark a slumping team.  Such is an example of what I like most about baseball stories: that peek behind the curtain of legend.  And often times, the real stories are just as good as the legends themselves.

In the end, this baseball story is ultimately about character, and Gehrig's life, illness, and outlook.  If you're not familiar with his farewell speech at Yankee Stadium or how he considered himself the luckiest man alive, or even if you are, Eig's book is a great way to visit, or revisit one of baseball's classic tales.