Drawing is like anything else—do it a lot and you get better. Since most of my art has been of the 3-D variety, I never practiced drawing until a few years ago. Now I start most mornings with a pencil in my hand even if I only have a few minutes to draw something simple.
I have written before about my birthday ritual, which takes the place of gift-giving. The ritual is this—I go to a thrift store with my family and have them compete with each other to find the ugliest and most useless item. I choose and then buy the most hideous of the tsotchkes & proclaim the person who found it to be the winner. I turned 66 in April. My husband won the competition with this frightening clown. It looks like it was a part of something larger—perhaps a lamp that would scare children into doing whatever their parents told them to do? Some sort of nightmare-inducing game? Whatever it was, it now lives in my studio and makes me laugh whenever I look at it.
After the loud, scary storm finally ended, the birds came back to my yard. As they hunted around for worms, they seemed to be commenting to each other about the violence of the storm. To me it sounded a lot like they were screeching “WHAT THE HELL????”