19th Century Whaling Journals

Today’s little illustration was inspired by…old whaling journals!

In the 19th century, travelers on whaling ships would record daily events in official logbooks and personal diaries. Sea routes, ship repairs, weather conditions and daily activities were documented in pen and ink–oftentimes accompanied by the most charming artwork. I could lose myself for hours in those tattered pages. Links below in the captions, where you can go down the rabbit hole yourself… Auction websites are also great resources for perusing pages of some privately-owned beauties.

*Log of the Ship Washington*, 1842. Source: Nantucket Historical Association.

*Journal of the Bengal out of Salem*, 1832. Source: Providence Public Library.

*Logbook of the Lewis of Dorchester*, 1835. Source: New Bedford Whaling Museum.

*Journal of the Kate Cory out of Westport*, 1861. Source: Providence Public Library.

*Log of the Ship Indian Chief*, 1842. Source: Nantucket Historical Association.

Ritual and Repitition (and the Buddhist Ceremony of Fang Luk Nimit)

Today’s sketchbook experiment! (Which will make more sense by the end of this post.)

In the simplest terms, luk nimit are spherical sculptures, typically made of stone or concrete, used to demarcate sacred Buddhist grounds.

On a recent visit to my parents, we spent a Sunday afternoon at Wat Tummaprateip to celebrate the birthday of abbot Phrakhru Soonthon Srisongkhram, and it’s where I got to participate in the ritual of fang luk nimit for my very first time. We waited in line with other congregants for our turn to ladle concrete into the spherical molds, while reciting prayers, and receiving blessings.

I love the idea that these simple orbs are very slowly, very intentionally, formed by so many hands of the community. Once hardened, they will eventually be buried underground–but before that, they are blessed by the monks, and the community is again invited to take part in the process by applying gold leaf to them and reciting prayers.

It’s yet another slow, mindful process, where that magnificent layer of gold is actually the direct manifestation of many hopes, wishes, and prayers…from many hands, hearts and minds. I love that all these single, tiny actions, lead to such glorious results.

Now back to my sketchbook exercise. After writing this, I wanted to play with the idea of small repetitive acts. I grabbed an old stamp and applied it over and over to create the entire foundation for the doodle, from the sky, to the grass, to the dresses and flower petals… Then filled the details in by hand with colored pencil, and did a little clean up digitally. A fun little exercise in mark-making!

The old stamp I used, and the quick stencils I made from scrap printer paper!

Playing With Shadows (and the Art of Thai Shadow Puppets)

A recent sketchbook doodle, playing with patterns and shadows.

And speaking of shadows, there’s this:

Suchart Subsin Shadow Puppetry Museum. Photo: Kent Wang.

I’ve long been obsessed with the traditional Thai art form of nang talung, or nang yai. Entire tales of star-crossed lovers and wandering heroes are told by intricate, lace-like shadows flickering across a white screen, as traditional music plays in the background (similar arts are also found in Cambodia, Malaysia, and Indonesia.)

The “puppets” are incredible works of art in their own right–made from leather that has been hand painted and meticulously hand punched. I vividly remember seeing these traditional Thai puppet shows on our family trips, and was completely enchanted by them.

And we can’t talk about shadows without paying homage to the nostalgic fun of folding your hands to form a giant bunny (or goose) on your bedroom wall. (I love every image from this book.)

Source: Bursill, Henry. *Hand Shadows*, 1859.

Rough Sketches and Van Gogh's Drawings

Composition is always the most challenging part for me—creating a scene that furthers its purpose, with elements balanced accordingly, and perhaps with some innovation too… It’s a lot to convey, and up until now, my rough sketches have been very tight and less enchanting than I would like them to be. So I’ve been trying to loosen up a bit, to more accurately reflect the spirit of the scribbles, bleeds and blooms that follow… Replacing crisp outlines with softer dots and dashes, and lightening up stiff forms with more fluidity. And, just trying to make them a bit more delightful overall.

Here’s the rough sketch for the illustration above (I ended up changing the brush to a pen nib in the final, to make the object clearer):

And a sneak peek at another rough sketch, for a piece that will come out in a few months:

I’m happy with how these are beginning to feel. Van Gogh’s drawings have long been a favorite of mine, and I’ve been turning to them often lately for guidance. I love how he captures life and movement with his expressive marks. And now I leave you with some of his delectable drawings:

La Crau Seen from Montmajour. Source: Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam (Vincent van Gogh Foundation).

The Sower. Source: Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam (Vincent van Gogh Foundation).

Visible Earth and Visible Process

From high in the sky, to down deep between blades of grass–as an illustrator, I am constantly pushing myself to see and draw things from unusual perspectives. The world exists just as it has for billions of years; and yet a shift in viewpoint can turn the seemingly impossible into reality, and reality into something magical. New angles lead to new meanings; new ways of falling in love with the same old stardust, the same old daily grind.

Once a week I’ll be sharing my eclectic sources of inspiration, sketchbook exercises in mark-making, and deeper dives into all the random influences that underlie my work. Lately I’ve been more disciplined in my art practice, carving out pockets of time for…play. And spontaneity. And exploration. And I’m starting this blog as a way of documenting that journey, with the hopes that it gives you a deeper understanding of what and how I create, and perhaps fuels your practice as well!

Today’s little entry was a quick study in shadow, light and organic patterns, thanks to Visible Earth. It’s an immense catalog of (mostly free and public domain!) NASA images of our planet–a good reminder that the most stunning abstract compositions come from nature herself (and an incredible catalog of our impact on the environment).