tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-311578402024-03-12T22:55:36.549-07:00i heart drawingMeg Whetunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03289668838018886254noreply@blogger.comBlogger46125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31157840.post-35409681904253236442010-06-24T22:28:00.000-07:002010-06-24T22:28:45.457-07:00Walking HarwoodWalking the same four blocks of Harwood Street each morning, a few of the things I've seen... More to come. It keeps this walk interesting, these strange sequences of things. Earlier this week it was the tiniest dead bird, a broccoli stalk, then a fallen nest. For a couple of weeks I watched the same abandoned 4-year-old's pink rain boot move from the curb to the top of a mailbox, to a bush, and then finally disappear.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL8Xaqs9V6lCyzUN5F4dZYEEDCdwQzYLG_chVxNAgFrocXYxLaTqmmt-AGu-PZlZcAZC75xDxjus0Z4KUnsVwouduWkF-BqBFvLsQqiYUwgPiqMJ5Mt0zprIOOwb04rLQ-kOdA/s1600/Skid.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 294px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL8Xaqs9V6lCyzUN5F4dZYEEDCdwQzYLG_chVxNAgFrocXYxLaTqmmt-AGu-PZlZcAZC75xDxjus0Z4KUnsVwouduWkF-BqBFvLsQqiYUwgPiqMJ5Mt0zprIOOwb04rLQ-kOdA/s400/Skid.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472486110473568098" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmbQmNKG7oEzPnUuX9mXhu4DYCOXH9QLdxltR4njL3VbFI9pTDsXBtpFxDmTACUvAn9wwh2UYLf0Ika5z7kZXO7MmYiBqFJB-BZVKXICQioKIpCy5XjVD8wmRaozphLDMsGTK4/s1600/TheWaytotheBusStop_2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmbQmNKG7oEzPnUuX9mXhu4DYCOXH9QLdxltR4njL3VbFI9pTDsXBtpFxDmTACUvAn9wwh2UYLf0Ika5z7kZXO7MmYiBqFJB-BZVKXICQioKIpCy5XjVD8wmRaozphLDMsGTK4/s400/TheWaytotheBusStop_2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472486113826724290" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMvQ1_fWCQR5lgdB-9jyiHc4K_TWkvG5IF6tB_LqCNjjaOg5tNa_7lrb9fBJ91_VW_0hl_F_96SHyQ674OcUlkFIhFoM0QfJHUGCbgWK3mMgfWSPjoHE2A6VcYYTpK15hDYgt0/s1600/FridayMorningPuddles.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 252px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMvQ1_fWCQR5lgdB-9jyiHc4K_TWkvG5IF6tB_LqCNjjaOg5tNa_7lrb9fBJ91_VW_0hl_F_96SHyQ674OcUlkFIhFoM0QfJHUGCbgWK3mMgfWSPjoHE2A6VcYYTpK15hDYgt0/s400/FridayMorningPuddles.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472486107791730322" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiydIP7oaqrKc3hbBUaWIS1-wfPwjhNI9NORVLWb4Bfx_NrVBiAB9JCfKoFNBmjYvpm8aEV6mm4d4She7Z487asQQ4rViYO_LHYTY1JdLm41CbY6JpNepispaixlWHU0Qixckm/s1600/TheWaytotheBusStop_3.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 220px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiydIP7oaqrKc3hbBUaWIS1-wfPwjhNI9NORVLWb4Bfx_NrVBiAB9JCfKoFNBmjYvpm8aEV6mm4d4She7Z487asQQ4rViYO_LHYTY1JdLm41CbY6JpNepispaixlWHU0Qixckm/s400/TheWaytotheBusStop_3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472486120843138194" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwJFohPF6juJbDXQqJHqF93cb9NLQp7HxB7WF6AOWfs6PL1SXUEqliv2d4XZFuAEj8Ny_GtBph6z1r9flRuDSQqBXuEq3OREQCsrn1G87UnEvtEESMR2lFvIL2mHLCX_q-11i0/s1600/Windy.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 216px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwJFohPF6juJbDXQqJHqF93cb9NLQp7HxB7WF6AOWfs6PL1SXUEqliv2d4XZFuAEj8Ny_GtBph6z1r9flRuDSQqBXuEq3OREQCsrn1G87UnEvtEESMR2lFvIL2mHLCX_q-11i0/s400/Windy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472486126479694514" border="0" /></a>Meg Whetunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03289668838018886254noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31157840.post-61997386772346667712010-05-17T22:45:00.000-07:002010-05-17T22:51:12.775-07:00A little bit of sketchbook catch upLooking back at the early months of this year. I think it was cold, maybe? Hard to believe now...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP-MghsSizTH6WqUnRVB33xEiiWHMd02ib_MzDBPtlIL5n8_8fTovvaHaKBKjnkai2P6evBze89LDwwFAermtLpUxkUO7PIkagW5V65Lss8HhUMSerP1aq-S-oz0wMCrvtL6PE/s1600/Resolve_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 287px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP-MghsSizTH6WqUnRVB33xEiiWHMd02ib_MzDBPtlIL5n8_8fTovvaHaKBKjnkai2P6evBze89LDwwFAermtLpUxkUO7PIkagW5V65Lss8HhUMSerP1aq-S-oz0wMCrvtL6PE/s400/Resolve_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455423479210496034" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkmBU9HJTIo9cUT2skAk8UIJ2xcmXJf3l79NP1kF5tnDnewaWIEkgRGqUunVpCyFTlzr8SOKgoPRJEh_lW2yI8b4BLHCB4bJLEOFkLjQoJzSCxqpfjxVdVgHU13C7iCZ-onEcs/s1600/Bread_MWhetung.jpg"><br /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcsGkxlbkY0kEIW4D3ioJ2PbkO4OhUOkLEd7iU8niwBFMpV3osKpJBPDBZ8T5xGMZQ4bnFS_N65dHEfTEIJMUZmfMqW_7MAEuJe88WCrjaKEkrrAbjaeeItDjx9VTopI-lfHac/s1600/HugeScarf_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 237px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcsGkxlbkY0kEIW4D3ioJ2PbkO4OhUOkLEd7iU8niwBFMpV3osKpJBPDBZ8T5xGMZQ4bnFS_N65dHEfTEIJMUZmfMqW_7MAEuJe88WCrjaKEkrrAbjaeeItDjx9VTopI-lfHac/s400/HugeScarf_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455420337973888914" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho15WPg4Am9z0YmhSNVISXlHmM8EtUKs9lA9oEFD70vwUg8No_A_BPgk8XyOiOehF3M4icDxMu5ScLA2vmRkZAMcMODd0pSskyBJoTAQvraAXQxmJNiVB0jCgQk1k0NSLM6zAH/s1600/TreeRain_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 235px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho15WPg4Am9z0YmhSNVISXlHmM8EtUKs9lA9oEFD70vwUg8No_A_BPgk8XyOiOehF3M4icDxMu5ScLA2vmRkZAMcMODd0pSskyBJoTAQvraAXQxmJNiVB0jCgQk1k0NSLM6zAH/s400/TreeRain_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455420345781049522" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRbyaYCktOHJgbkg-PshAWvWiwuvkalwLH3i5KWJXGwJaKs0q_ysnPtsKyuxwlr-nt6JsafL7meUkA3E-rxi_8rFbsuahqvkCxE4HnWzndwh-VURT4edRHx2-TZ7ZwuV9nIUBL/s1600/ColdBeerAd_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 241px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRbyaYCktOHJgbkg-PshAWvWiwuvkalwLH3i5KWJXGwJaKs0q_ysnPtsKyuxwlr-nt6JsafL7meUkA3E-rxi_8rFbsuahqvkCxE4HnWzndwh-VURT4edRHx2-TZ7ZwuV9nIUBL/s400/ColdBeerAd_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455420332327018034" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-NdUWTdZFwe-oIPdX8WE264bJGMng14zi8jP6odaAIORpEWXzTNtksjnBSaUeY_3dP70Sw72rQKrVKrp8Jvw6uXD32ZZSsi9ZHnmNMbf078IdtKp9fsICB2lzW8g0SoXMKLW-/s1600/Man_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 241px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-NdUWTdZFwe-oIPdX8WE264bJGMng14zi8jP6odaAIORpEWXzTNtksjnBSaUeY_3dP70Sw72rQKrVKrp8Jvw6uXD32ZZSsi9ZHnmNMbf078IdtKp9fsICB2lzW8g0SoXMKLW-/s400/Man_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455420339930958882" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcsGkxlbkY0kEIW4D3ioJ2PbkO4OhUOkLEd7iU8niwBFMpV3osKpJBPDBZ8T5xGMZQ4bnFS_N65dHEfTEIJMUZmfMqW_7MAEuJe88WCrjaKEkrrAbjaeeItDjx9VTopI-lfHac/s1600/HugeScarf_MWhetung.jpg"><br /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRbyaYCktOHJgbkg-PshAWvWiwuvkalwLH3i5KWJXGwJaKs0q_ysnPtsKyuxwlr-nt6JsafL7meUkA3E-rxi_8rFbsuahqvkCxE4HnWzndwh-VURT4edRHx2-TZ7ZwuV9nIUBL/s1600/ColdBeerAd_MWhetung.jpg"><br /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUUDyisr4NdVuABFxNhvy5NBUHm2CSUYb4G0LyQFRtMAY4qSO9ahY0tl-k0a8aYB5MwUPVFqMQI2aaDyUAXHExyagzJllyveMipEDDs2-UemXYBZ4Zl6Ki9b7NVZa155QdhWp6/s1600/Bread_MWhetung.jpg"><br /></a>Meg Whetunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03289668838018886254noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31157840.post-48105791909000105672010-03-25T00:13:00.003-07:002011-07-17T21:59:03.938-07:00Life Drawing at the Vancouver International Dance FestivalLast Friday Laura and I went to the Roundhouse Community Centre for a free life drawing session that was part of the <a href="http://www.vidf.ca/">Vancouver International Dance Festival</a>. It had been years, and years, since either of us had done life drawing, so it was interesting. A bit frustrating getting back into it (should have brought large paper for an easel instead of just a sketchbook, duh), but still fun. I really enjoyed drawing a dancer – better poses! Laura was annoyed by the model's loose clothing, and tempted to yell, <span style="font-style: italic;">take it off</span>! but I actually kind of liked the flared pants for some reason. Here, some of my awkward (but possibly loveable?) results:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgABuOTB3Ewn99GCadm9o-l-aFqt2qi7yY2uZF1_wPAArzuAH_3NVzrAFUvCs2zmnU5apHsuG1nC01dzkZ0Wp8IQMhGgwchNC5twhN5vxjCNsnZg-gwuacUfB3Zc6LftwhjkYUS/s1600-h/LifeDrawings_MWhetung.gif"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgABuOTB3Ewn99GCadm9o-l-aFqt2qi7yY2uZF1_wPAArzuAH_3NVzrAFUvCs2zmnU5apHsuG1nC01dzkZ0Wp8IQMhGgwchNC5twhN5vxjCNsnZg-gwuacUfB3Zc6LftwhjkYUS/s400/LifeDrawings_MWhetung.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450809968869055618" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY8HbpjaDDzIxDINzOsS92qyuWs6Jff1lsxb4SXF00j5vjgrwAjYSAwgBYf4sblS-kAQqoMfyo4pBU2UPxQWOyDtUN1BTICPQ7hxBBlTo8xXTacgQ26G0VDTVejH5M4TYcO1Wi/s1600-h/LifeDrawings_MWhetung_2.jpg"><br /></a>Meg Whetunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03289668838018886254noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31157840.post-31818542475193044842010-03-24T23:16:00.004-07:002010-03-24T23:20:42.468-07:00Illustration Friday – ExpiredMy thoughts during my walk to the bus stop this morning:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoFXE2ve1N1jww1cPBgwnVeb1dgqoKfk1FJDs16hvxhMHA1dhZY0a8NMFczlGuaLohK_48h8BFIJ3sCgvX1e9ie1gJpNLIlVoCaRr8MqvtfjD154jaCX5fH2K6UKpQYdOFWfFk/s1600/Expired_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoFXE2ve1N1jww1cPBgwnVeb1dgqoKfk1FJDs16hvxhMHA1dhZY0a8NMFczlGuaLohK_48h8BFIJ3sCgvX1e9ie1gJpNLIlVoCaRr8MqvtfjD154jaCX5fH2K6UKpQYdOFWfFk/s400/Expired_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452451668375494530" border="0" /></a>Meg Whetunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03289668838018886254noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31157840.post-71330524556318506042010-01-21T20:32:00.006-08:002010-06-11T19:04:55.317-07:00The Slow Lane<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIik7_7hurLfps_EdBzukdEtGvyoVqbMfaqaq-aZR4XsiH2iNIVmOzwN-2OWP3Po4oDyk1fuYlg3p64F3gPoSkFLxs7CFb_GcQ8vgFQoAbb7WowOUgBrn0ce7M3lRRZGU4M3zh/s1600-h/Pool_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 248px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIik7_7hurLfps_EdBzukdEtGvyoVqbMfaqaq-aZR4XsiH2iNIVmOzwN-2OWP3Po4oDyk1fuYlg3p64F3gPoSkFLxs7CFb_GcQ8vgFQoAbb7WowOUgBrn0ce7M3lRRZGU4M3zh/s400/Pool_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429418621480141826" border="0" /></a>The balcony at the indoor pool is the best place to eat lunch on campus during the winter. It's warm and cozy, almost spa-like, and although it's full of students most of them are sleeping or watching movies on their laptops, so it's <span style="font-style: italic;">way</span> quieter than the eating areas in the Student Union Building.<br /><br />Sitting on the carpeted bleachers overlooking the pool, I love watching the swimmers. The ones in the slow lane are perfect models for when I feel like whipping out my sketchbook to knock off a few minutes of drawing during lunch. This guy stopped to take a break against the pool's edge and I couldn't resist capturing his moment of relaxation. Ahhh...Meg Whetunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03289668838018886254noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31157840.post-87242317554997183662010-01-17T22:43:00.013-08:002010-01-18T13:54:03.434-08:00The CaretakerSo, good news – I've been drawing every day. The 15 minute rule is working so far. It's a small enough amount of time that it feels like it's always possible to fit it in somehow, whether it's gestures at a street corner while waiting for a friend, swimmers in the slow lane below where we eat lunch at the campus pool, or practice drawing leaves of the spinach I love so much, post-dinner.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJSWy9oFiJD8j92qLxPd7uWSlEmWnE6u3fC72Z6q6Otz2aB0sAl7pkhAZMNIsdrvLan1lwr93Nzf-WlCgN2Upoanh420Mt2f1iuhhh1XtBNANkhnVirtsJi0xA-WCsgKnWT0i2/s1600-h/Caretaker3_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 259px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJSWy9oFiJD8j92qLxPd7uWSlEmWnE6u3fC72Z6q6Otz2aB0sAl7pkhAZMNIsdrvLan1lwr93Nzf-WlCgN2Upoanh420Mt2f1iuhhh1XtBNANkhnVirtsJi0xA-WCsgKnWT0i2/s400/Caretaker3_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427969690081731074" border="0" /></a>A couple days last week my minutes (more than 15 in this case) were spent working on an illustration for the cover of a program for my friend Christine's play. She's putting on Harold Pinter's <span style="font-style: italic;">The Caretaker</span>, for the PuSH festival coming up later this month. I've collaborated with Christine before, on the design of a poetry anthology she produced, and jumped at the chance to do so again. And I'm really excited to see the play, which she's staging in her apartment with an intimate 17 audience members per showing. Very cool. If you want to go too, the dates are January 27–February 6, with performances at 7:00 nightly, 2:00 on Sundays. Email <a href="mailto:caretaker.res@hotmail.com">caretaker.res@hotmail.com</a> to reserve tickets.<br /><br />Christine asked for the cover illustration to be "troubled but optimistic" and somewhat feminine, as she cast the play with three women rather then the three men it was originally written for. More of her thoughts on the play which influenced the illustration:<br /><blockquote>I like to tell people that I first got the idea of putting on The Caretaker when I moved into my new place and I was surrounded by boxes of junk – my junk. The truth is that my junk follows me wherever I go. No matter where I'm living, my home looks like the set of The Caretaker. Perhaps this is why I've become acutely aware of the situation in which Aston and Davies live: their susceptibilities to homelessness and mental illness. Being a woman, I've often thought about how tough it mush be for a woman to live on the streets. This is why I chose to cast The Caretaker with actresses. Homelessness is difficult for everybody, but a woman would be lucky to survive 24 hours on the street by herself. Though Harold Pinter wrote The Caretaker in 1959, it's still relevant today because we still don't have solutions for the problems this play addresses. – Christine Gibson</blockquote>Meg Whetunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03289668838018886254noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31157840.post-81995437507058967702010-01-07T22:31:00.012-08:002010-05-17T23:06:46.186-07:00Sketchbook highlights: Nov/Dec 09I finished a little sketchbook last month, and am now beginning to work through another, but wanted to take a quick look back. Below are a few glimpses of November and December.<br /><br />My one resolution for the year (I discovered last year that if I make just one it actually happens – I'm now a bread maker!) is to dedicate at least 15 minutes of each day to drawing. So, I plan to share daily sketches here a lot more often now.<br /><br />I contemplated starting a daily drawing project – 365 something... But after thinking for a few weeks, I hadn't been able to decide on what project would be just right for me. At the moment it feels too restrictive to focus on one subject or concept, so I'm just going to draw whatever catches my eye or is stuck in my head and see drawing every day as an accomplishment in itself and a catalyst for so many other things. We'll see how it goes, and if a project idea does surface that I'm excited about and I change my approach, you'll be the first to know.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8ZzR2wKTP5GDAzzmj6XTHnmgDjiChKtxlE0lXu1f_Rt9n3nruBrDNUriEfgpWQ_r2SBaGdRdMVJDc8DI-dK8Jnz6yxhj8mZKEg7rYPyH0AtpkLggH1Qr95h4XhZhV88-LdctG/s1600-h/Sketchbook1_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 254px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8ZzR2wKTP5GDAzzmj6XTHnmgDjiChKtxlE0lXu1f_Rt9n3nruBrDNUriEfgpWQ_r2SBaGdRdMVJDc8DI-dK8Jnz6yxhj8mZKEg7rYPyH0AtpkLggH1Qr95h4XhZhV88-LdctG/s400/Sketchbook1_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424256096587833154" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:90%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">On the skytrain</span></span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg26FAho4x-RVOQGMFeuafXbh5wJ-lyjuDHsRZav7lUNRtnj3LSl7I_Gko64UgmtJROZZ7Thlee7waSGB4qbvcl5smDtd_UIxmyGGZhXfDjoicMOl3HBbvIYOipoiU35CtmLF4-/s1600-h/Sketchbook6_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 316px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg26FAho4x-RVOQGMFeuafXbh5wJ-lyjuDHsRZav7lUNRtnj3LSl7I_Gko64UgmtJROZZ7Thlee7waSGB4qbvcl5smDtd_UIxmyGGZhXfDjoicMOl3HBbvIYOipoiU35CtmLF4-/s400/Sketchbook6_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424256319695386738" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:90%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">On the bus on the way to the dentist, obsessing about being late and watching a man who looked like he was as worried as I; at the dentist – composing this illustration in my head to distract myself from the horridness </span></span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSDl_1YosxuDSztvZl8U_XKY0QgvCJrVs9CKkkfx-z99vSKzaQvPtVxbnalYZjBvXjeyAmcIbIrgYkWjJixkGkgspPTJtVPjqVXG9Ql0e-hUrqfmWQQUDI8S4jD7TiFD4kQGx6/s1600-h/Sketchbook5_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSDl_1YosxuDSztvZl8U_XKY0QgvCJrVs9CKkkfx-z99vSKzaQvPtVxbnalYZjBvXjeyAmcIbIrgYkWjJixkGkgspPTJtVPjqVXG9Ql0e-hUrqfmWQQUDI8S4jD7TiFD4kQGx6/s400/Sketchbook5_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424256118052061250" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:90%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">The beginnings of an alphabet drawn after watching an under the sea IMAX film with our nieces</span></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuRv4DIKvGUDxnygsp4DerWcmP4xWp5_kXlbWfW4V1MqumqlqIo4n_w4wawuBfnskPlfUeJJ4CXzq01U_ripEy2rlUz7hjNtY5gVgQWZVC0fousFMmagV1Yoo6xC8pFGAGZoS7/s1600-h/Sketchbook3_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 314px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuRv4DIKvGUDxnygsp4DerWcmP4xWp5_kXlbWfW4V1MqumqlqIo4n_w4wawuBfnskPlfUeJJ4CXzq01U_ripEy2rlUz7hjNtY5gVgQWZVC0fousFMmagV1Yoo6xC8pFGAGZoS7/s400/Sketchbook3_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424256109753174194" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:90%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">At Erin's place in Whistler, a rather unorthodox Mrs Potato Head asked me to draw her portrait</span></span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx2BfBosWkoogtpjfKcuAoAXETVZpi9V4uY3eOPiJpFTwRz2yCRDlGqbE52SSMP-aJ0XMidjlfal21JjSwSfi-IfYMCJ00ZLnKZ73UjcqWrT9y3sJdPq29QIJCWquojtaWEN1u/s1600-h/Sketchbook2_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 311px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx2BfBosWkoogtpjfKcuAoAXETVZpi9V4uY3eOPiJpFTwRz2yCRDlGqbE52SSMP-aJ0XMidjlfal21JjSwSfi-IfYMCJ00ZLnKZ73UjcqWrT9y3sJdPq29QIJCWquojtaWEN1u/s400/Sketchbook2_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424256106806385330" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:90%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Having lunch at Finch's for the first time ever – on my first day of Christmas holidays</span></span><br /></div>Meg Whetunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03289668838018886254noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31157840.post-24556403105095274772010-01-07T22:10:00.002-08:002010-01-08T09:48:41.619-08:00Peace and the process of card makingHappy New Year! Now that Christmas is over, it's safe to reveal the mysterious process behind this year's card. Hmm, ink, stencil, a mini potato stamp – not really that mysterious, but I hate to ruin the surprise that good old fashioned mail offers. So here, now, a look behind the cosmic mess that was my 2009 xmas card:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAosAXR55tMTPTotCq3C-HUvrVjofQwF-b8vYyvNlXsdlphVTA86Q2s8R3S_6_dbEq7s14zRFhJsxwaPsUAMVt0qtFcIblhWLYDLIlkQi1fg9ECXIKJuGLLT70lWwMRGCokIGX/s1600-h/Cards09_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 154px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAosAXR55tMTPTotCq3C-HUvrVjofQwF-b8vYyvNlXsdlphVTA86Q2s8R3S_6_dbEq7s14zRFhJsxwaPsUAMVt0qtFcIblhWLYDLIlkQi1fg9ECXIKJuGLLT70lWwMRGCokIGX/s400/Cards09_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416639715984987506" border="0" /></a>A couple of my favourite finished cards. The best part about the fact that the process evolves as I make more and more cards is that each one is very different – it's fun to flip through the stack after and find one that feels just right for the person I'm sending it to. Cute dots, or an explosion?<br /><br />It started with some bus-ride-brainstorming in my sketchbook:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib65RcM4DxAamdxK0Tc533DMW9LDPIJYDTi-AW0EgYo9_K2gNP6QRtNHBsIbMt0kP5RLhLf_yCBVbYPgwXVBOo5-aqOuHuqSZxBJXOlgbbU1Bo3xv2WAIqY0XMTxfbpCK5ZjKH/s1600-h/Cards09_sketch_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 224px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib65RcM4DxAamdxK0Tc533DMW9LDPIJYDTi-AW0EgYo9_K2gNP6QRtNHBsIbMt0kP5RLhLf_yCBVbYPgwXVBOo5-aqOuHuqSZxBJXOlgbbU1Bo3xv2WAIqY0XMTxfbpCK5ZjKH/s400/Cards09_sketch_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424240023661021138" border="0" /></a>The note on the side says "make a stencil - paint lines with watercolour - thin brush." Which is exactly what I did.<br /><br />I was kind of in love with the way the stencil looked after painting several cards, and considered stopping everything, scanning it in and making a card design out of that. Ha. Isn't it beautiful?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghwCY4wakGmMGNMaoV3ZpobTdTBOdb0yeQMAXp8-o4gjYL6n4en4uX-AZ13jX45HL8PNKXWZr0uWrUVKVdHy7bRTBCvgfsMYIFAs6odvSRRXU0Ap9MVJmpAFXKVr1VlEOt11hT/s1600-h/Stencil_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 314px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghwCY4wakGmMGNMaoV3ZpobTdTBOdb0yeQMAXp8-o4gjYL6n4en4uX-AZ13jX45HL8PNKXWZr0uWrUVKVdHy7bRTBCvgfsMYIFAs6odvSRRXU0Ap9MVJmpAFXKVr1VlEOt11hT/s400/Stencil_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416640350752927490" border="0" /></a>But I kept painting the cards. I did lots of tests with different colours, different brush strokes etc. until I was fairly happy.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgsl5tv3dfzgNW81Nv3EK-DqDgoGWfI5KCWTPfQ1ktrMfn4MEOgTKKxMwX6RIVzpaOw9KAPBQ5w7yg1iSKORBS8gMdC6Li23jp5i8uf35ll8yyiIGKSImxJ3pzUgO5KW6W00JY/s1600-h/Cards09_inking_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgsl5tv3dfzgNW81Nv3EK-DqDgoGWfI5KCWTPfQ1ktrMfn4MEOgTKKxMwX6RIVzpaOw9KAPBQ5w7yg1iSKORBS8gMdC6Li23jp5i8uf35ll8yyiIGKSImxJ3pzUgO5KW6W00JY/s400/Cards09_inking_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416639712083584498" border="0" /></a><br />Then I set about splattering the backgrounds of forty cards. I wanted it to look layered, to create a watery winter universe for my peace and stars to float in.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWMU-VSEv3LAgvKoZYLSS0Z86UaoI4Mnjl9u66KIoQRtCuOytnEZfSbG9s4Y_P0fAM6P1MhVcni_WL4awGjpXq1DUMutFSZsWTtL4xGfjntEj3etB3zVq8KIEDNXQX0qydZjVu/s1600-h/Cards09_splattering_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWMU-VSEv3LAgvKoZYLSS0Z86UaoI4Mnjl9u66KIoQRtCuOytnEZfSbG9s4Y_P0fAM6P1MhVcni_WL4awGjpXq1DUMutFSZsWTtL4xGfjntEj3etB3zVq8KIEDNXQX0qydZjVu/s400/Cards09_splattering_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416640339264694594" border="0" /></a>I newspapered the kitchen floor, plastered the bottom cupboards with garbage bags to create a mini spray booth of sorts, and set up a clothesline so I could hang the cards to angle the drips just right.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyVSooGxu7lv0M0MMPgqoqtvEVB4n78XyuCq0lEPVA_G7DhjClAQIWTs8YtKCcUqBaKE_z5S9Svk-PiBsnytkzACYiNYfIDKqSGq29acMo77HcA3iIs_KN5drnldg8HIttG9De/s1600-h/Cards09_hanging_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 148px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyVSooGxu7lv0M0MMPgqoqtvEVB4n78XyuCq0lEPVA_G7DhjClAQIWTs8YtKCcUqBaKE_z5S9Svk-PiBsnytkzACYiNYfIDKqSGq29acMo77HcA3iIs_KN5drnldg8HIttG9De/s400/Cards09_hanging_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416639705568404242" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdfc4MOTSoKw0LovFaL1P27MH78Q4l8GZ9NbXMzfYp-C4X2Mc8JgN4KA7d4YS8paLlRzJpVsgYhDeoIVqcUSbjr6WpumSuDqLBrYWnUXMdS5jttrdljnM8xRPRlPibIrQKmEMH/s1600-h/Cards09_spraybooth_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdfc4MOTSoKw0LovFaL1P27MH78Q4l8GZ9NbXMzfYp-C4X2Mc8JgN4KA7d4YS8paLlRzJpVsgYhDeoIVqcUSbjr6WpumSuDqLBrYWnUXMdS5jttrdljnM8xRPRlPibIrQKmEMH/s400/Cards09_spraybooth_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416640344310932754" border="0" /></a> When I had splattered and stenciled each card, long after the mulled wine and sausage rolls were finished and all friends had left, I called it a day. But I didn't feel like the cards were finished. There was something missing. I spent a couple of weeks looking at them and entertaining various options for that essential last detail. Also effectively procrastinating the writing and mailing part of the process (never as much fun as the making). When I couldn't wait any longer I turned to <a href="http://iheartdrawing.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-dream-of-card-making.html">my old friend</a> the potato.<br /><br />Actually a very small piece of a potato in this case. The smallest potato stamp I've ever made:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwVVG6S-vtM9ZLYcY1WPgFdjFY_6RRgSLNkxD_UYXB2Kl9VTNJegczcJV7e5qo6eakqz7ae-CzBNxXA3D-RQ-hRqiHRYA9cBHX103-s0myqgkaIPkaxv_Zse23S_YMvctrC389/s1600-h/Cards09_potato_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwVVG6S-vtM9ZLYcY1WPgFdjFY_6RRgSLNkxD_UYXB2Kl9VTNJegczcJV7e5qo6eakqz7ae-CzBNxXA3D-RQ-hRqiHRYA9cBHX103-s0myqgkaIPkaxv_Zse23S_YMvctrC389/s400/Cards09_potato_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416640334912229682" border="0" /></a>I added a tiny star to each card, in whichever corner called for it. I had felt like the cards were too floaty, dreamy, watery – that's the mood I was going for, but they needed one sharp-edged component to provide focus. One bright yellow star.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvy8r5AhdCHyWItBIJJt0evwtsMnwabCHCNW1MyWH-3gdHZ_DfzqTxaPH5ugtI8ljyWINEpA80B2jSOXbXaf6reLdfb4TWIJ9nChPbEY9gYL_F3OJu4Aqbe-UJvm0AsPLm9y2v/s1600-h/Cards09_finished_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvy8r5AhdCHyWItBIJJt0evwtsMnwabCHCNW1MyWH-3gdHZ_DfzqTxaPH5ugtI8ljyWINEpA80B2jSOXbXaf6reLdfb4TWIJ9nChPbEY9gYL_F3OJu4Aqbe-UJvm0AsPLm9y2v/s400/Cards09_finished_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416639693190987058" border="0" /></a>And another on the back of each envelope:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9-f_m1fUoTi8JWLEhQYuK1ge3vrFB0b7Q-VpQUTEK-e2q6HI6StYWv6VrKjVtkQmbC4LCr-AL3NZnyqzPDHXaqRzHNzwCktXXL2A6jkqnedqrYzn8l_xhjPh_V923zpVyw_pj/s1600-h/Cards09_envelopes_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9-f_m1fUoTi8JWLEhQYuK1ge3vrFB0b7Q-VpQUTEK-e2q6HI6StYWv6VrKjVtkQmbC4LCr-AL3NZnyqzPDHXaqRzHNzwCktXXL2A6jkqnedqrYzn8l_xhjPh_V923zpVyw_pj/s400/Cards09_envelopes_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416639692013122834" border="0" /></a>Another year, another card. This year more than ever paper cards seemed to be on their way out, but I don't want to give up the excuse to dedicate a whole day to making a mess in the apartment and letting an idea take shape from whatever whims come over me as a result of the mulled wine, treats, and friends. And the hope that people will be thrilled to open up something unexpected.Meg Whetunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03289668838018886254noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31157840.post-39403352770465526192009-09-16T22:59:00.010-07:002009-09-17T00:09:42.978-07:00IF – Welcome<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVm72yfIM9VaRSJPtxU16cz7AoZb4oUYebLW3UshdrWBnWItySrj8qCAJvuRdp8UfBYtsSEDWVxZ-jKgeL41M8X6uOjfCz8QiKk-NqIAld8AM2ZCW1xEo_bjn7TiBX3-J5G3Aj/s1600-h/Welcome_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 242px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVm72yfIM9VaRSJPtxU16cz7AoZb4oUYebLW3UshdrWBnWItySrj8qCAJvuRdp8UfBYtsSEDWVxZ-jKgeL41M8X6uOjfCz8QiKk-NqIAld8AM2ZCW1xEo_bjn7TiBX3-J5G3Aj/s400/Welcome_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382320812077378258" border="0" /></a>Labour Day weekend found me in Kelowna, with my mom and sister, enjoying thoroughly the home of our friends Tess and Loic. They were away in Merritt for the first couple of days we were there, so their perfect little home welcomed us by itself. We settled in right away, sitting out on the back deck minutes after arrival, for a beer-chips-tangerine salsa-smoked salmon break, dodging rain drops and taking in the neighbourhood.<br /><br />I was enchanted by their surroundings – the peaceful garden in its beginnings, jumble of small roofs, trees, laundry lines, bird feeders, and the low dry hills keeping everything contained. The smallness of it all, the better to observe the changing sky.<br /><br />The next day we had coffee downtown before embarking on some exploration around the lake (through hail and rainbows). I was reveling in having my sister there in front of me instead of at the end of a phone line, and tried to capture her in a quick gesture. It didn't go so well, so I kept at it, trying to loosen up and see what I could get at in a few seconds each time. Somewhere in here is Tessa. She is all four of these I guess, or somewhere between them. I could happily keep drawing her forever – probably never getting it quite right but enjoying the experiment all along.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoSKSyKUyZdSgKzZM4FRSdOy78aQuRL3AfpYrvZ8WgcjPs8Xe2YMV46-1cbmUorSp-m_uy0HRUe9JX1Hz3tLuFcFDu_O3uAwBcw-D3w_zpW4BzfF2ymckxoYYAW1-Up8v-9W5M/s1600-h/Tessa_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 161px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoSKSyKUyZdSgKzZM4FRSdOy78aQuRL3AfpYrvZ8WgcjPs8Xe2YMV46-1cbmUorSp-m_uy0HRUe9JX1Hz3tLuFcFDu_O3uAwBcw-D3w_zpW4BzfF2ymckxoYYAW1-Up8v-9W5M/s400/Tessa_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382312540546824946" border="0" /></a>Meg Whetunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03289668838018886254noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31157840.post-3444042046327286582009-08-27T22:47:00.007-07:002009-08-28T00:12:03.551-07:00Galiano Island, learning to draw trees (also IF – Caution)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFTOobl8452lPRdoywlt5hz59WDUcTy0uBU3LjgiUxDyvLRFXxPcnQlH7C-cattqQYjh4YU3P6_lt8engcM2JThK0eIMTzGuVA-eMZPL4E4inGTZdchnyo5Sb0XcSj5U4ErC2R/s1600-h/Caution_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 211px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFTOobl8452lPRdoywlt5hz59WDUcTy0uBU3LjgiUxDyvLRFXxPcnQlH7C-cattqQYjh4YU3P6_lt8engcM2JThK0eIMTzGuVA-eMZPL4E4inGTZdchnyo5Sb0XcSj5U4ErC2R/s400/Caution_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374902411518322066" border="0" /></a><br />I drew and coloured this while sitting on the sandstone edges of Maple Bay at the North End of Galiano Island. Mom and I stayed at <a href="http://www.swallowskeep.ca/">Swallow's Keep</a> for three nights, and made the trek through the forest to Maple Bay and Coon Bay twice. We had a run-in with our host's sheep at the start of the trail, and then descended into the most breathtaking forest I've ever been in. Seriously breathtaking. It was all sunbeams floating past mossy trunks to land on lush ferns. About half way through, the trail transitions from a homemade path to an official parks one, at which point wooden hand-lettered signs gave way to standard yellow ones warning us of a gate a few feet ahead. And then, the beach.<br /><br />Emerging out of the dense, lush forest and stepping into a deserted cove made of small smooth pebbles and the clearest water, edged by sandstone cliffs – there is nothing so magical. Except having it to yourself all day long, and having no other obligations than to sit on the pebbles with a small sketchbook in your lap, a few watercolours and a cup full of sea water, and try to record at least a tiny bit of the place and the way it feels.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjyIDt0kF9oTt9UnLANsP0c-NFdcskefgVPyaxYfF9OVlsT_lBuw34ORH9aD2r102IBr-iJnIefPn7snRE9BGFlc8kXSqrJKqlnBlXqIGFW2EK85Lnmv4pY98kEZSyiuje5YkN/s1600-h/Galiano_RockFace_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 203px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjyIDt0kF9oTt9UnLANsP0c-NFdcskefgVPyaxYfF9OVlsT_lBuw34ORH9aD2r102IBr-iJnIefPn7snRE9BGFlc8kXSqrJKqlnBlXqIGFW2EK85Lnmv4pY98kEZSyiuje5YkN/s400/Galiano_RockFace_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374908870074787586" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-XEw1mxh9Jh_U23JLlaYQTrvM7Ei1vabinqo2Vg-By2rfQ2EFYEtq7Wl29Vbo4lzPTXbVSm67lL4F_hky3_-kSpcCsv8FT27adh6dEqA9nXPsQbypAmpasLnA8yriskSPPKe_/s1600-h/Galiano_Trees_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 231px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-XEw1mxh9Jh_U23JLlaYQTrvM7Ei1vabinqo2Vg-By2rfQ2EFYEtq7Wl29Vbo4lzPTXbVSm67lL4F_hky3_-kSpcCsv8FT27adh6dEqA9nXPsQbypAmpasLnA8yriskSPPKe_/s400/Galiano_Trees_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374902435004627986" border="0" /></a>I generally get totally bored trying to draw "nature" – I complain to myself that trees don't move, so are infinitely more boring than people. If there are people in a landscape, or even evidence of people's effect on the place, I'm so much more interested. But I'm beginning to realize a tree in a moment has a gesture just as a person does, and the above is me trying to capture that. It's something I'm now excited to practice.<br /><br />This was the next attempt, a few hours later, drawn while sitting on a swing in a tree and watching the sun set over the islands below us – a gesture of an arbutus tree, along with a gesture of Mom at the beach, and her reading in front of our little cabin on the cliff.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrSi2kA0BGXEy1PSGvlF_QN8jeT0LWVT5admH6cJkU5i9GUplfQ33ppMXuFCU5_rn55BFqC48Q6Iinpy8Za7Cdv-gHcLUt1ikYfViKY_zl-Dyox2r9TWZFz5lFOYugoGLCKrdM/s1600-h/Galiano_Mom_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrSi2kA0BGXEy1PSGvlF_QN8jeT0LWVT5admH6cJkU5i9GUplfQ33ppMXuFCU5_rn55BFqC48Q6Iinpy8Za7Cdv-gHcLUt1ikYfViKY_zl-Dyox2r9TWZFz5lFOYugoGLCKrdM/s400/Galiano_Mom_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374894659424441506" border="0" /></a>Meg Whetunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03289668838018886254noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31157840.post-59695455363724528712009-06-05T00:39:00.003-07:002009-06-05T01:05:09.716-07:00IF – Adjust<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH45wAP2bo_38-j5jvDEhnyZQKglaVGHdfeiVTRhi-GOHL2DXLhaU9gJxIw9TCueQBnmvEofmD-1nziq2jR0L1b80qOet0e2Z39WQvG00L3FjiraGJGT3JjsDa984uNFW6PLZp/s1600-h/IF_Adjust_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 205px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH45wAP2bo_38-j5jvDEhnyZQKglaVGHdfeiVTRhi-GOHL2DXLhaU9gJxIw9TCueQBnmvEofmD-1nziq2jR0L1b80qOet0e2Z39WQvG00L3FjiraGJGT3JjsDa984uNFW6PLZp/s400/IF_Adjust_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343745811557000706" border="0" /></a>I'm a bit late with this, but I haven't had much time to sketch these days, because... I've been biking to work. Crazy, I know. I'm loving it so much, except for the fact that without the need to pass two dreary half hours sitting in a bus seat each day, my sketchbook doesn't get much action.<br /><br />The Illustration Friday theme of 'adjust' was timely for me this week. I've been feeling the growing pains of my bike and me adjusting to each other. It's proving tricky to figure out where I now sit between this new sporty me and the normal me who likes to wear pretty heels and not squish my hair in the mornings. My threshold for sloppy clothes and a generally haphazard appearance in public has changed significantly, and I've found myself not embarrassed in the least in situations I would have been before. The thrill of cycling leaves me walking around in a happy bubble sometimes. Especially when it's so sunny and everyone around me seems to be in a friendly-neighbour mood like they have been this week.<br /><br />But there are moments. Such as when I left Laura and Michelle's place last night after dinner, dressed in my normal office outfit, except minus the heels and with helmet and sneakers quickly slapped on and pannier in hand, to step into an elevator full of preppy, critical-looking people. I felt very conspicuous and not at all like myself. Ick. Then I toppled over while trying to get on my bike. The first inevitable fall.<br /><br />Adjusting, it takes a while...Meg Whetunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03289668838018886254noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31157840.post-79675709659294210212009-06-03T23:04:00.007-07:002009-06-03T23:46:12.905-07:00Butterflies, pants, and hamburgers<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGkFW___OdM4rI3yXh0MDnR_SVr1jbcCLwAZnAldnAz931IC1NQSWAFHRfcHUNMeMy3BBo9mhu1uIpviB4ovaJM_gaB25eO2PVy6RFFshBd38R2bTlkJEzsTDIfdItR69DMMn2/s1600-h/RaisaBabyStory.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 291px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGkFW___OdM4rI3yXh0MDnR_SVr1jbcCLwAZnAldnAz931IC1NQSWAFHRfcHUNMeMy3BBo9mhu1uIpviB4ovaJM_gaB25eO2PVy6RFFshBd38R2bTlkJEzsTDIfdItR69DMMn2/s400/RaisaBabyStory.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343356233628737170" border="0" /></a>As promised, the comic I drew for Raisa's baby shower.<br /><br />And it doesn't lie, she's having a boy! The shower was lovely – it was fun to hear others' pregnancy stories. Most impressive and strangely inspiring was the story of Sue's sister, who hopped on her bike and rode to the hospital after going into labor. Whoa.<br /><br />Thanks for the opportunity to collaborate on telling your adventure stories Raisa! Can't wait to meet the little butterfly kicker.Meg Whetunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03289668838018886254noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31157840.post-23731193275496916062009-05-15T12:38:00.007-07:002009-05-16T01:30:23.375-07:00UmbilicalI've missed doing Illustration Friday these past few weeks, but have still been sketching in my sketchbook, and have a couple of exciting projects on the go. The first is a comic for my friend Raisa about her adventures in pregnancy, which I'll hopefully be ready to post about soon (after it's revealed at the baby shower next weekend of course).<br /><br />The other thing that's been consuming my time, a lot more of it, is getting all of the pieces ready for the portfolio website I've been working on for ages. This week I made major progress – two days of photo shoots with my friend Flora. We shot nine projects, using the really cool softbox tent that Flora originally bought for shooting wine bottles, and a couple of small strobes. I learned a lot, and the images turned out beautifully. Now I just have to get them all into the template I've built for the site. In the meantime, I thought I'd provide a sneak peak here of one of the projects:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi29nW_GVLuINrp7rB3GwzoG23O4j39OJlvh21zAOWq3Zjbm0Kng7rmez_KE5EaqCl6nbJdnLVyrX-V1CGsBABA2g4TINqL6_jbPbJBL96JzhyfDos21OAgvO6J9BnwUKrEkEw_/s1600-h/Umbilical2_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 264px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi29nW_GVLuINrp7rB3GwzoG23O4j39OJlvh21zAOWq3Zjbm0Kng7rmez_KE5EaqCl6nbJdnLVyrX-V1CGsBABA2g4TINqL6_jbPbJBL96JzhyfDos21OAgvO6J9BnwUKrEkEw_/s400/Umbilical2_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336138103402314754" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4AmZrU7VhaAjJNiPfODeZmxxzalAYFayPdl0fAGN3ClorpGZqmRFym0oitfbncpPSkWkj6sOmjnbI9Eh9wYqynP1UQnyn2owde8-6iTGmJvuYL3_IHV_Y-y2MyZ1E4riDUfyE/s1600-h/Umbilical_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 264px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4AmZrU7VhaAjJNiPfODeZmxxzalAYFayPdl0fAGN3ClorpGZqmRFym0oitfbncpPSkWkj6sOmjnbI9Eh9wYqynP1UQnyn2owde8-6iTGmJvuYL3_IHV_Y-y2MyZ1E4riDUfyE/s400/Umbilical_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336138000358753314" border="0" /></a><br />Tess Letailleur, a very close family friend and super-talented poet, approached me about a year ago to ask if I'd create a title page illustration for a collection she was producing of her poems and those of family and friends. I was thrilled to be able to collaborate with her.<br /><br />As the illustration took shape, we corresponded back and forth about the ideas behind the book and the drawing. She described the book's poems as sharing “<span style="font-style: italic;">a kind of common human experience.... a movement through life to a ripeness of sorts... a flowering.</span>” The book evolves through sections focused on youth, seduction, experience, liminality, and ageing. In the illustration I focused on this life and growth, referencing the shape of an umbilical cord as well as veins and cells. It mixes the human and the plant-like, to create a living, moving, feeding, growing thing. It reaches up the page, evolving from seed to flower, supporting other paths and growth along the way. These ideas are expressed with such beauty and depth in the book, in the words of Tess and her community.<br /><br />The book was typeset by Tess' husband Loic, and they had it printed exquisitely by <a href="http://www.gaspereau.com/">Gasperau Press</a> in Nova Scotia.Meg Whetunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03289668838018886254noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31157840.post-15638083709102234352009-04-20T23:08:00.007-07:002009-04-21T06:50:37.876-07:00IF – Impossibility<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKTsYQlnhXOKKRr5wifVw_J0Z91I-w2s_J2EFpPu5BKaZIk1nUZ2FM9-1fkEPwpLqX7-s5LigNN_J1IYOrXe-S-ScNUzADtLbdqei41Y23jcJoqkUuXgyknABgz8cI12kCgMSb/s1600-h/Impossibility_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 318px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKTsYQlnhXOKKRr5wifVw_J0Z91I-w2s_J2EFpPu5BKaZIk1nUZ2FM9-1fkEPwpLqX7-s5LigNN_J1IYOrXe-S-ScNUzADtLbdqei41Y23jcJoqkUuXgyknABgz8cI12kCgMSb/s400/Impossibility_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327034242928814162" border="0" /></a><br />Earlier today I was thinking this was a difficult topic, since there aren't many things I think are impossible. But then I read Michael Nobbs' post on <a href="http://www.michaelnobbs.com/75ways/">75 Ways to Draw More</a> and I couldn't help myself from grabbing a pen and drawing what was in front of me. Which happened to be a new pair of shoes I'm still drooling over... Problem solved.<br /><br />I have got to get back to sketching every chance I get. Yesterday I was bored standing outside waiting for Darryl to finish a phone conversation. Reading Micheael's tip #20 (<span style="font-style: italic;">When meeting a friend, get there ten minutes early and draw something</span>) tonight reminded me that I used to never ever be bored because a few minutes stuck waiting somewhere meant a few minutes to draw my surroundings. Knowing that you'll never be bored is a really great thing. Must draw more!Meg Whetunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03289668838018886254noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31157840.post-15508317680267629412009-04-14T22:51:00.004-07:002009-04-14T23:35:27.325-07:00IF – Fleeting<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKN_YmpggzZZWqwi2n1J4TBlZqaFP5i8jXV8EjwbxZVbvZzS8zNTwhC7am41D64oto9XbxkYtofZPaGFNBOkO8hCYU_eZwka2RrYJOWGcn9aemFdXUtUG99HplxI5Gkl-9jE-1/s1600-h/Fleeting_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 344px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKN_YmpggzZZWqwi2n1J4TBlZqaFP5i8jXV8EjwbxZVbvZzS8zNTwhC7am41D64oto9XbxkYtofZPaGFNBOkO8hCYU_eZwka2RrYJOWGcn9aemFdXUtUG99HplxI5Gkl-9jE-1/s400/Fleeting_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324800211308961202" border="0" /></a><br />Two things I so enjoy, each fleeting in its own way – asparagus for its short spring season, soft-poached eggs for their carefully-timed runny perfection – came together in tonight's diner. And were preserved here while they grew cold, drawn before eaten.<br /><br />It's strange, but I keep thinking that the eggs and asparagus combined in this way, exhibited, look like daffodils... I probably have daffodils and their fresh colours on the brain, as they're everywhere I look this week. Daffodils and cherry blossoms, yum.Meg Whetunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03289668838018886254noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31157840.post-25931119526042575352009-04-08T23:46:00.006-07:002009-04-09T00:15:32.252-07:00IF – Talisman<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw3qhoAoHhsUo2wu0DOpHUJ-9MB-WzVC4nEl6NmHX96dlAdeiSDly_oRf32teMLD6e6SE8WbQnAED4dB_I6oo5S6Z9p-vIMcRy3qSwqnRMB5l3VV28dvlNMQUhFAK6GbV6hSVN/s1600-h/Talisman_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 216px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw3qhoAoHhsUo2wu0DOpHUJ-9MB-WzVC4nEl6NmHX96dlAdeiSDly_oRf32teMLD6e6SE8WbQnAED4dB_I6oo5S6Z9p-vIMcRy3qSwqnRMB5l3VV28dvlNMQUhFAK6GbV6hSVN/s400/Talisman_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322580900073370338" border="0" /></a>[Click image to enlarge]<br /><br />Earlier this week I was thinking about the word talisman, and that I didn't have any personal association for it. Then, this story surfaced. It had been floating around in my head for a while. I sketched it out on the bus on Tuesday morning, and just as I was arriving at work, had a random thought that maybe scratchboard would be cool to try for this. I haven't used scratchboard in who knows how long – high school? first year of art school? I bought a pack of ten sheets, and a couple of scratch tools, and started to play...<br /><br />This went from a very rough sketch, to a comp with some quickly snapped photos pieced together in Photoshop, to working directly on the scratchboard. I'm excited to play around with this process some more, for other stories, and see where it takes me.Meg Whetunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03289668838018886254noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31157840.post-72690529364945372702009-03-28T00:34:00.003-07:002009-03-28T01:04:41.457-07:00IF – Poise<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieKGCW9jFBK9hzNJ3qFVlzuiBPKxvmsdYeAsHsnIYnztSb4GaXjCZ6lxeLzAa1K-fckOvk2iPrupVcX-K6aJF7n40T0_RthXMg5MHwKKwX5Gk6GAjkGpfac8h3Ba5GgR-Zusi4/s1600-h/Poise_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 229px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieKGCW9jFBK9hzNJ3qFVlzuiBPKxvmsdYeAsHsnIYnztSb4GaXjCZ6lxeLzAa1K-fckOvk2iPrupVcX-K6aJF7n40T0_RthXMg5MHwKKwX5Gk6GAjkGpfac8h3Ba5GgR-Zusi4/s400/Poise_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318141831938900546" border="0" /></a><br />Since spring is taking its sweet time getting here, I think it's fair to skip it and start dreaming about summer. I originally sketched this figure while sitting on a grassy hill outside jazz fest (or was it blues fest, or folk fest?) in Victoria last summer. The grass beneath us and the rest of the crowd was soggy but no one seemed to mind, relaxed as they were, sprawled out in various summer-chillin'-without-a-care-in-the-world poses. Poised to enjoy the summer.<br /><br />I haven't pulled out the pencil crayons in forever, but tonight I just really wanted it to be me and a piece of paper, with no screen-staring involved (until the final moments anyway). It was fun.<br /><br />Now, bring on the barbeques, swimming and picnics please!Meg Whetunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03289668838018886254noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31157840.post-88707725793932149652009-03-07T17:04:00.006-08:002009-03-07T17:27:00.078-08:00IF – Intricate<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQbAK7twyxEshFEJ1Z-87wZh2PpSIlMBF7xhLSq16zydJhJy4NVaHMhtmduTtZ6TKn4VlJqK30GCOqTx6VuOMBOxBY8FGBWbvjgOnUB86PYgo6PAq173JGgWDjb49MAXmGGR_2/s1600-h/Intricate_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 353px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQbAK7twyxEshFEJ1Z-87wZh2PpSIlMBF7xhLSq16zydJhJy4NVaHMhtmduTtZ6TKn4VlJqK30GCOqTx6VuOMBOxBY8FGBWbvjgOnUB86PYgo6PAq173JGgWDjb49MAXmGGR_2/s400/Intricate_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310616675780925170" border="0" /></a><br />Darryl and I went to the aquarium a few weeks ago, for the very first time. I passed three happy hours gazing into all of the intricate underwater worlds they had created for the fishies.<br /><br />The plants captured my attention as much as the animals – all the underwater foliage seemed so curated, with shapes, colours and ways of moving coming together so beautifully. I <span style="font-style: italic;">love</span> the ocean, the beach, and everything to do with it – the Pacific Northwest exhibit was one of my favourites, with the kelp and sea pens and all the life that thrives beneath my favourite swimming spots. If I had some magic abilities, I'd use them to shrink myself to the size of a little fish and learn to breathe underwater, so I could go strolling around that intricate terrain.<br /><br />A side note – those bubbly shapes in the background were made with some <span style="font-style: italic;"><a href="http://www.natureprintpaper.com/">NaturePrint</a> </span>paper my sister gave me years ago. I found myself at home on a sunny (!) afternoon yesterday and jumped on the opportunity to make a sun-photogram. So paper + little gold seed beads + sun became the perfect bubbly waves for my sea-scene.Meg Whetunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03289668838018886254noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31157840.post-71643916035853712612009-03-02T22:44:00.007-08:002009-03-03T00:12:42.398-08:00IF – Breezy<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimvq3SEQ0CHQNI4S8cnb7JJEeebWpMBWDnmqpiBBAY3g7KSMeacd6m123LahSRLfXE90x94bPHBjmB3BY955aaPIyJOpjYm7apKnUsHxj6lwjmZZqXqsN-bqhdw3WpfuGS_kbK/s1600-h/Breezy_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 251px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimvq3SEQ0CHQNI4S8cnb7JJEeebWpMBWDnmqpiBBAY3g7KSMeacd6m123LahSRLfXE90x94bPHBjmB3BY955aaPIyJOpjYm7apKnUsHxj6lwjmZZqXqsN-bqhdw3WpfuGS_kbK/s400/Breezy_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308852538453914274" border="0" /></a>Tonight I was in the mood to doodle, to have some couch-and-pen time rather than computer time.<br /><br />Is she breezy? Is she not? Maybe she's feeling the breezy barely-beginning of spring outside, but doesn't quite have the energy to rise to breezy-ness herself, yet. Or maybe she put on a dress that she was hoping would make her feel breezy but it was lumpy and ill fitting instead. I'm right now in the middle of going through my closet to purge and try to insure myself against this kind of unfortunate thing happening to me ever again...<br /><br />At any rate, this is the perfect chance to post some other lettering doodles from my sketchbooks that I've been meaning to share. These are from my morning commutes on the days when I don't feel like staring my fellow passengers down for long enough to draw them.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl9uW-vf83l7GprDZkNx2Kbj9nr3pe2C-6MKfrkrJ9Cx6RwPSn4e87JfJXDP0dRs2uU9KT0ZWj4joq5GgeQcRNxp9KzACh3NwQ5dGRt6EFT0QNhzY6Q99Ea6e-HntDv2F24Ip0/s1600-h/Lettering_machine_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 302px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl9uW-vf83l7GprDZkNx2Kbj9nr3pe2C-6MKfrkrJ9Cx6RwPSn4e87JfJXDP0dRs2uU9KT0ZWj4joq5GgeQcRNxp9KzACh3NwQ5dGRt6EFT0QNhzY6Q99Ea6e-HntDv2F24Ip0/s400/Lettering_machine_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308857787045479522" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF4QENCcpmVjqMD7lkaXy-YKzVVSdEEUX8k5Rpug1fJZsIKnY-NBrHVeEJ_KO2QHSNHKGyinIIIzvVSyzlVluqnNXzqCNj7kEWuHCqL9w4iVLTimlztT_07YfWkjmS2qCaVWRA/s1600-h/Lettering_drifting_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 222px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF4QENCcpmVjqMD7lkaXy-YKzVVSdEEUX8k5Rpug1fJZsIKnY-NBrHVeEJ_KO2QHSNHKGyinIIIzvVSyzlVluqnNXzqCNj7kEWuHCqL9w4iVLTimlztT_07YfWkjmS2qCaVWRA/s400/Lettering_drifting_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308857543199014034" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSOvqQdzM5BZDd-MQzGFQwS8u0O28IzPoKM7V5MXj_WYjeDicUiISqJw2EdpXx7IT9YmiD9-UnhCNnKwYYkfC_Pikfx1Wo0F7BOAmgF-nKRd191xI_Y1PwQUehq19jfo-KF3Wl/s1600-h/Lettering_wasps_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 305px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSOvqQdzM5BZDd-MQzGFQwS8u0O28IzPoKM7V5MXj_WYjeDicUiISqJw2EdpXx7IT9YmiD9-UnhCNnKwYYkfC_Pikfx1Wo0F7BOAmgF-nKRd191xI_Y1PwQUehq19jfo-KF3Wl/s400/Lettering_wasps_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308858875829854242" border="0" /></a>Meg Whetunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03289668838018886254noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31157840.post-69096466573441610642009-02-11T23:47:00.005-08:002009-02-11T23:54:32.125-08:00IF – Time<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp0vkmE3sNHMtgue-1YcdjZimz5eOZI3bTgAaKdaapsqhGyZZjK174VQa0dPeTpBlybIad0N5lHXBJTtw4Xyo9zXKXztgvzWhhTK1wOOtjbEfrFIHpgEaveBzB6uat_OJULpat/s1600-h/Time_MegWhetung.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 242px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp0vkmE3sNHMtgue-1YcdjZimz5eOZI3bTgAaKdaapsqhGyZZjK174VQa0dPeTpBlybIad0N5lHXBJTtw4Xyo9zXKXztgvzWhhTK1wOOtjbEfrFIHpgEaveBzB6uat_OJULpat/s400/Time_MegWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301814493704976450" border="0" /></a><br />I sketched this one afternoon in August, in the middle of a vacation-at-home. As awesome as it is to go away on adventures, I love the indulgence of taking a week off to do nothing special at all. Being in my usual space, with none of my usual routines to adhere to is the ultimate luxury. Oh how I miss the green grass and blue skies of summer!Meg Whetunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03289668838018886254noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31157840.post-40158510492425194082009-02-05T23:03:00.005-08:002009-02-06T00:31:50.088-08:00IF – Flawed<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDcGwUA86lFvvN4imJ1g1HvqRu1DauOjNzF6I7cBQGm9h_aERD8AwAswIjNqca8flJMl0YDdWSAgHvPAv8zU_RcFGUhAfoMhniX5S_ouaAGSsE4bGJTe-z39eHcxVhpqFV0BwQ/s1600-h/VintageDresses_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 284px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDcGwUA86lFvvN4imJ1g1HvqRu1DauOjNzF6I7cBQGm9h_aERD8AwAswIjNqca8flJMl0YDdWSAgHvPAv8zU_RcFGUhAfoMhniX5S_ouaAGSsE4bGJTe-z39eHcxVhpqFV0BwQ/s400/VintageDresses_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299583250168216514" border="0" /></a><br />I'm slowly continuing to work with the sketches I did while in Toronto this past summer with my Dad. It's fun having these on hand to play with when one happens to match an Illustration Friday theme. This particular one fits "flawed" perfectly – I still get a pang in my heart remembering my disappointment upon discovering the flaws in these dresses.<br /><br />It was a rainy, foggy day. Dad and I had been for a long walk, down Yonge street, up and down and through the financial district in every direction, along King and up Spadina. Once on Queen Street we split up for a while, with plans to meet back at the pub. I had been wanting to go in search of a vintage shop which had been one of my favourite downtown stops when I lived out at York years and years ago. I found it – Black Market, a cavernous basement spot with vintage clothes of all kinds, plentiful and cheap. I gathered up a huge armful of dresses to try (it being summer, I was obsessed with finding perfect vintage sun dresses). I had at least 15 dresses, nearly more than I could carry. And not one – NOT ONE! – was right. All flawed, horribly. Too flawed even for a "Well, it's only $12.99 and I could probably put a different belt on it, shorten the straps, and..."<br /><br />I bravely managed not to cry, and continued on to the pub to meet dad. Sitting at the bar, sipping my beer and waiting for the jazz band to start, I pulled out my sketchbook and pens and drew some of the pretty pretty (on the hanger) dresses, so as not to forget the hopes I had had for them.Meg Whetunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03289668838018886254noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31157840.post-42123449073237765882009-01-27T23:33:00.007-08:002009-01-29T23:55:04.946-08:00T is for Tessa, C is for Cathie<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifKbveZ9U4zOqfWY9m2Hy2jFlB1pi_2JIgPt_d5q3KTfqfj7lf2es2jAlejZmC6p1QWFqYCM07kqPF0TFXHKL1I7YnD_P8IhZ-ZY3ZPRnAp396-0eqX4dgQgBjf9_fllfI4uS2/s1600-h/Leters_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 394px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifKbveZ9U4zOqfWY9m2Hy2jFlB1pi_2JIgPt_d5q3KTfqfj7lf2es2jAlejZmC6p1QWFqYCM07kqPF0TFXHKL1I7YnD_P8IhZ-ZY3ZPRnAp396-0eqX4dgQgBjf9_fllfI4uS2/s400/Leters_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296244612954867906" border="0" /></a>One of the ideas I had before Christmas for useless but beautiful things to impose on my family was these 3-D letters (there was also a "J" for Jim, which I didn't get a chance to photograph). Not really sure where it came from, but I guess I thought it would be fun to build something and to draw on letterforms. And of course I had to work my bright inks in there somewhere, because I <span style="font-style: italic;">love</span> them still.<br /><br />What I underestimated was how much time I was going to spend hunched over my cutting mat, ruler and knife in hand, coming to terms with the fact that measuring things over and over is not my favourite activity. Thank goodness I had Michelle watching over me to interject repeatedly with, "Wait! Don't you want to score that on the <span style="font-style: italic;">other</span> side?" I made it through, but the shapes weren't quite as straight and perfect as the ones I had sketched out when planning these. Hmm, oh well. In the end I kind of grew to like the slightly wonky lines of the "T." And it was fun trying to figure out where to string the fishing line to create the right tension to hold them in shape.<br /><br />Somehow they seem right hanging in the backyard, chillin' in the trees...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMeneDUW4uyhma3EOC5l3pTVRHArECSxlPR5lE3ldf2FN_HTPs0w8zCGIhA-NN-AEP1Hwty5GUo888YKBoEGgsAhbY8cOB6XoBpEna6JSRi-hiWZlxsOXAqY1nZQZf5cqjWdCM/s1600-h/Letters2_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMeneDUW4uyhma3EOC5l3pTVRHArECSxlPR5lE3ldf2FN_HTPs0w8zCGIhA-NN-AEP1Hwty5GUo888YKBoEGgsAhbY8cOB6XoBpEna6JSRi-hiWZlxsOXAqY1nZQZf5cqjWdCM/s400/Letters2_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296244985399947954" border="0" /></a><br />I really want to have more regular crafting days and nights to do this kind of thing, not just for Christmas. It's a good kind of release to make something beautiful but useless, to counteract days spent designing with such focused purpose. To try out new ideas that then filter into other things...Meg Whetunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03289668838018886254noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31157840.post-8025382863609387002009-01-23T23:44:00.005-08:002009-02-06T00:36:50.308-08:00IF – Climbing<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS02DnipEuLAEoa7kio-sbp3cCY9AYLq45yftl9nwSiir4IflZElfERbhDf7zT579PVTHo4Nz3Rlm8shmRWyqL4o0L5b6ugU_pBC8om-DJqB_hf-yRcOx5SYVfXlCcgxs68CR2/s1600-h/Climbing_MWhetung.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 323px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS02DnipEuLAEoa7kio-sbp3cCY9AYLq45yftl9nwSiir4IflZElfERbhDf7zT579PVTHo4Nz3Rlm8shmRWyqL4o0L5b6ugU_pBC8om-DJqB_hf-yRcOx5SYVfXlCcgxs68CR2/s400/Climbing_MWhetung.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294763338718733362" border="0" /></a>So these two turtles were originally seen in the Darwin exhibit at the ROM, slowly cavorting around behind glass. Here I've imagined that the have escaped and are navigating the back alley obstacles, seeking their fortune – one more enthusiastically than the other.<br /><br />The background is a photo taken with my new <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Holga">Holga</a> camera. Michelle and I went out on an expedition Wednesday night, putting our faith in hand-holding and long roughly counted-out exposures, and it worked! You can see the rest of the images on my <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/dmwhetung/sets/72157612884189177/">flickr</a>. <span style="font-style: italic;">Oh foggy city nights, I love you...</span>Meg Whetunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03289668838018886254noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31157840.post-73887094251587791582009-01-05T22:35:00.004-08:002009-01-05T23:12:02.563-08:00I dream of card-making<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizNGzpBCxkDxAOm1S79DGAUHfG3I6nJlVxIsb_nkg8eJXkOoDiLyy1IxBgjpU1SRsDR9S8TQ6uNbxR20krzfxS8uIZDWsPr7qK3Tx4dUiFUNoQwY9LJtXFydqC41mwbipNYGt2/s1600-h/MWhetung_XmasCards08_CU.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizNGzpBCxkDxAOm1S79DGAUHfG3I6nJlVxIsb_nkg8eJXkOoDiLyy1IxBgjpU1SRsDR9S8TQ6uNbxR20krzfxS8uIZDWsPr7qK3Tx4dUiFUNoQwY9LJtXFydqC41mwbipNYGt2/s400/MWhetung_XmasCards08_CU.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288067319050736962" border="0" /></a>Now that Christmas is over and all the cards have long since arrived, I can tell you how much I <span style="font-style: italic;">love</span> making Christmas cards. For the past few years I've had friends over in November or early December to make a mess, try out any of the crafty ideas that have been floating around our imaginations all year, and get a head start on the Christmas eating and drinking (the mulled wine is as essential as paper and ink...).<br /><br />I love it because it's a concentrated afternoon of playing and making, and although we're each working on our own card designs, it feels collaborative. For one afternoon, my apartment is like a studio for that design collective we never quite formed.<br /><br />Well, one-half design collective and one-half preschool – when it comes to card designs, I like to go back to the basics. And nothing's more basic than potato stamping! Cutting into a potato, coating it with ink and stamping away... you definitely can't be precise. Given that messy, spontaneous, intuitive art is my favourite kind to make, I love it. Here is a sampling of potato-stamped cards I made over the past few years (not the best specimens, as these are the leftovers, but you get the idea):<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDbFeaIo5WLcjfMmPBM6m9gHMh_mQqlLhhBFRfTbnf_CWUG-4B7_5aiJDS96RudJUpvuFaBdWdfjTNDW0cWdyvjf0x1KwIX3Xe7PsQ8U8x2FSWlKkuXFFH-XszHoG9fLaZgnSj/s1600-h/XmasCards_0607.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 297px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDbFeaIo5WLcjfMmPBM6m9gHMh_mQqlLhhBFRfTbnf_CWUG-4B7_5aiJDS96RudJUpvuFaBdWdfjTNDW0cWdyvjf0x1KwIX3Xe7PsQ8U8x2FSWlKkuXFFH-XszHoG9fLaZgnSj/s400/XmasCards_0607.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288067328660773122" border="0" /></a><br />This year though, I didn't buy any potatoes. I had recently been to <a href="http://www.urbansource.bc.ca/">Urban Source</a> on a Main Street scavenge with my sister and a friend, and had filled a bag with totally random stuff which seemed destined to end up on Christmas cards somehow. I sat down with no plan and ended up making these:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOcNIUesltPFsLF6uXpva9IxpLvXNZlNrVIC-EDXNXzQkZpGHWxk5ebpgtHzxyds1MQQ29RyLAbyHnzRDdAZwB-P_oBmvrFBUkepl9loCTJ6j_ev81NBMGX-mELF-P_l3dzHwe/s1600-h/MWhetung_XmasCards08.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOcNIUesltPFsLF6uXpva9IxpLvXNZlNrVIC-EDXNXzQkZpGHWxk5ebpgtHzxyds1MQQ29RyLAbyHnzRDdAZwB-P_oBmvrFBUkepl9loCTJ6j_ev81NBMGX-mELF-P_l3dzHwe/s400/MWhetung_XmasCards08.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288067322859746226" border="0" /></a>An army of dreams – castles, houses, buildings, each living in their own bright, windy, blue sky world. I started by tearing and folding a piece of the coolest textured foil, from Urban Source, pink on one side and green on the other. Then I scribbled some blue ink on paper, placed the castle over it, and stenciled <span style="font-style: italic;">dream</span> above. And then replicated it 30 times. The castle and sky felt dreamy, I was dreaming of holidays, and wanted to send everyone sweet dreams for the year. This fit with my pattern of making cards that are bright, fun, hopeful, usually minus the red and green and super-Christmas-y stuff.<br /><br />I really got down with the Christmas crafting this year, making some other fun stuff for presents too – a mobile recycling old jewelery, 3D letters, etc. – which I'll post about soon. Happy New Year!Meg Whetunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03289668838018886254noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31157840.post-65563328074070857622008-10-23T21:30:00.004-07:002008-10-23T22:04:33.437-07:00IF – Late<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1i80Q1SPPyh2IVFNRPzn-A64GkKfoErLzyM-sZwohlEyNHde_yJGlz8u5iuAcyQtztsvBL_FWWuaoDi0qTQAB-bZpn5WdbGS9MabAXATBf7gKSjSayf5dOU87Jam0o2o9dx8p/s1600-h/MWhetung_Late.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 238px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1i80Q1SPPyh2IVFNRPzn-A64GkKfoErLzyM-sZwohlEyNHde_yJGlz8u5iuAcyQtztsvBL_FWWuaoDi0qTQAB-bZpn5WdbGS9MabAXATBf7gKSjSayf5dOU87Jam0o2o9dx8p/s400/MWhetung_Late.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260579461008368338" border="0" /></a>Yesterday morning I was walking along Harwood Street, on my way to the bus stop as usual. I should have been rushing but instead was gazing up at all of the gorgeous leaves, reveling in a perfect sunny fall morning. Some mornings the sun is so bright at the end of the long street, filtering through all of the trees to reach me in a haze. So there I was busy in my head admitting that maybe fall can sometimes be <span style="font-style: italic;">almost</span> as beautiful as summer, and *shock* there was a wasps nest hanging in one of my favourite small yellow-leaved trees, its leaves nearly all dropped to expose the evil bulbous papery thing.<br /><br />I think it's way too late in the season to have to be confronted with such a thing. Aren't all the wasps supposed to be DEAD by now? If only I was so lucky...<br /><br />Still it was a little bit beautiful hanging there with no activity, just another texture beside the leaves and trunk, eerie in that hazy morning light, a relic of the passed season.Meg Whetunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03289668838018886254noreply@blogger.com4