I've found a few more sketches dotted round in little books I have. I said in the last post I only really stop and sit in two places: on a bus and on the sofa, but there are a few more.
Here's another bus though:
And here's a hungover Sunday afternoon on the sofa, watching the OC with Char, Hugh (visiting from Newcastle, brought cookies, now sadly missed) and Soph (ex-housemate, brought sunshine into our lives, now sadly missed):
Right, so that's just buses and sofas then. But don't believe for a second my life is anything less than a white-knuckle roller-coaster ride of sex and drugs and rocks and rolls. I'm young, I live in the capital, I have a modest disposable income. I'm averagely intelligent and ever so slightly creative. You never know where I'll sit next! On the edge of a wishing-well, on a Camel, in a second-rate simulator on the pier, on a bench by some pidgeons... Anywhere!
Here's one from when I was sat on the loo:
I have traveled a bit though recently. Desperately trying to claw back the sense of self-worth inherent to being a student, I've gone all the way up to Yorkshire and all the way West back to Bristol. Anything to help me shrug off the crushing weight of realisation as I settle into my hourly-wage life in an office, telling anyone who'll listen that "I'm an artist, really."
This is from the train journey back from Yorkshire. As with the buses, it's worth bearing in mind that these vessels really shake when you try and draw on them. I thought perhaps the foggy hangover I was suffering on this journey might cause my right hand to shake in just the right way to countenance the carriage judder making for clean lines all round, but I guess it wasn't to be.
And here's another trip. This time to Bristol for much longer than we were welcome. Here I've tried to use representative colours, but put them all over the cream at a 70% opacity to try and make for a cohesive palette. Is it more effective? I don't know. In fact, I don't even understand what I just said.