A Long Pause

You might be thinking I went on my road trip and never came back–at least that’s the impression my lack of posting gives. But no, the past two months I’ve just kind of been…slacking.  But I’m making a promise to myself to update at least a couple times a week, so expect more blogging to come!

A couple weeks ago, I went to my fourth drawing session.  I think this was my favorite so far–not because I had gotten better (because I hadn’t), but because of the model. To me, the connection the model makes with the group the minute she walks into the room really determines the mood and feeling of the whole session.  It’s strange because usually  I tend to dehumanize (not in a bad way!) the model when I’m drawing her, and imagine her as an object  to draw instead of a naked person posing two feet in front of me.  This helps me concentrate and focus on drawing lines and shapes instead of body parts.  But even before all of that, I still like to get a sense of who the model is. 

And that’s what happened this time. Her name is Aimi and she’s from Nigeria.  Instantly, I could tell I was going to enjoy drawing her. She has a really amazing spirit, and her features were really unique to look at–and draw!  She also talked with the group in between poses, but not in a way that distracted us. Without saying too much, I’ll try to have the drawings speak for themselves.  As always, comments, suggestions, tips are encouraged!!

 

The Swing of Things

Another month, another drawing session.  This is number three, for those who are keeping track.  Last night, despite being completely sleep deprived, I was totally psyched up to draw for 2.5 hours straight.  Drawing for that long truly is an exercise–both mentally and physically.  After putting the finishing touches on my final sketch, my fingers, wrist, and elbow were sore, and I exhaled deeply.

This class was a lot more crowded than the previous one, which is always fun.  I like observing artist’s preferences, such as where they choose to sit in the room or what poses they prefer to draw.  I also think it’s interesting to note what they choose to draw.  Some people, myself included, draw the entire figure, while others will focus on something as small as the model’s eye.

The model this time was a lot curvier than the previous two, and I definitely enjoyed drawing her better.  All of her body parts flowed, which helped me to make big, swooping lines.  She also had some crazy/challenging poses, which showed how comfortable she was doing this.

One thing I’m beginning to notice is that while I am drawing, I never can judge whether or not a sketch is good.  However, when I look back over my pad a couple hours later, I notice subtleties in improvement from prior classes.  Although, as the man sitting next to me said, “It never gets any easier.”  I 100% agree.

So…let me know what you think!  Any tips? Criticisms? Certain ones you like more than others?  Hold your mouse over the image to see how long each pose was for.

Also, on Saturday I’m leaving for a week-long road trip with Esquire, so the next post will be a recap of the trip!

Sitting Back

A few days ago, I stepped onto the subway and sat down, relieved that I got a seat and that it wasn’t crowded inside.  I looked around the subway car as I always do,  just to scope out the scene.  My eyes stopped at the man sitting across from me, a man probably in his mid-twenties.  He wore dingy clothes and a backpack, and he alternated between taking sips of a Minute Maid fruit juice and nodding off to what must have been an uncomfortable sleep.  Next to him, there was a folded piece of cardboard and a small bag of dog food. What caught my eye, though, and what made me do a double take, was what he carried in his backpack: a dog. 

Now, I have seen my share of the homeless in New York, and usually I don’t give them more than a passing glance.  Maybe it was because this man had a dog with him, but I could not stop staring at him and his companion.  I was fixated.

Every time the man began to doze off, he would slowly lean back–a sign that he was falling deeper and deeper into his sleep. And as he would lean back, the dog would also reluctantly lean back, unable to control the angle of  his body.   And each time, just as I thought the dog was about to get crushed by the weight of his owner who leaned further and further back, the man would jolt his body back to upright position and pet the dog’s head–a gesture to reassure the dog that his owner knew he was back there. 

This went on for about ten minutes. 

Since there were so few people on the subway, only the girl sitting next to me and I knew there was a dog with his head sticking out sitting in the backpack.  The other four or five passengers were clueless.  I think the girl and I had the same thoughts running through our heads (What is this guy’s story? How did he acquire this dog? Is there anything we can do to help him?), but we didn’t acknowledge that–we were too mesmerized by the scene in front of us.   

At one point, I noticed that the girl had taken her wallet out of her purse–something I would probably never do on the subway.  She unzipped the wallet and started fingering through her money; I guessed she was looking for a single or two to give to the man and his dog.  But after a few seconds, she zipped her wallet back up without taking anything out and got off at the next stop.   She must not have had any small bills in there.  

I thought about doing the same.  But it was just that: a thought.  I didn’t actually unzip my purse, didn’t actually take out my wallet, didn’t actually even attempt to give the illusion that I wanted to help this man and his dog.

A stop before mine, the man got off the subway and lifted the dog out of his backpack.  They were probably making their way to a street corner to settle  in and beg for money.   At this point, the other passengers noticed and gasped at the sight of a twenty-five pound dog they were oblivious to just seconds before.  

 Normally I would want to follow them out of the subway and run up and snatch the dog away from his owner.  Normally I would want to try and give the dog a better life and a chance to thrive. 

But I didn’t even budge.  I could tell the dog was happy.

The Underdog

Last week, I went to another life drawing class.  Yes, I decided to give it another try and see if there was any noticeable improvement in my skills.  This class was a little bit different: mainly, it was much smaller (only three women and about five men).  The model this time was also more outgoing and talkative, which made me feel comfortable knowing she was comfortable.  There was one thing that definitely remained the same, though: I was BY FAR the most inexperienced artist (can I call myself an artist?) of the group.

At this session,  I tried experimenting with a few different harder charcoal pencils, but I decided I prefer to use softer, thicker charcoal instead of the skinnier charcoal pencils.  I like the softened, almost hazy look that certain charcoals produce, so I’ll remember to use those next time. 

After about a half hour into the session, the two other girls had to leave early, so that left me with the five men.  Intimidating, or inspiring, depending on how you look at it. I think it was more of the former.   At one point, I even tried holding my drawing pad so that no one else could see what I was drawing, but that made it harder to sketch.  

Seriously, some of these men were pros.  About halfway through the session, one guy went to the bathroom and came back with a cup full of water–yes, he started using wet paint!  I’m not really sure how advanced that is, but the other men in the class seemed impressed by his use of acrylics or watercolors, so I figured it was not the norm. 

I’m really glad I came back for another class.  It definitely was not any easier than the first one, but even the man next to me said he was having a hard time. 

So check out the new drawings! Let me know what you think or if you have any advice or tips for a “budding” artist.   Also note: if you let your mouse hover over each drawing, it will say how long the pose was for.

Getting Away Without Actually Leaving

After over two months of living in Manhattan, I am officially diagnosing myself with a condition I would like to call Green Envy.  What is Green Envy, you ask?  It’s a common condition–that I may or may not have just invented–that comes after long period of time without an adequate amount of green (i.e. trees, plants, grass…NATURE) in a person’s life.

Yes, contrary  to widespread belief, there is a downside to living in Manhattan–well, maybe more than one, but I won’t get into them.  Out-of-staters will say, “Oh, but you have CENTRAL PARK, one of the best urban and historic parks in the country.”  To that I will say, “Yes, but it is soooo far uptown, and sometimes a girl just wants to walk to the park instead of riding the hot, sticky subway just to get there.”

Plus, Central Park, along with other big parks in NYC are so crowded that it’s impossible to feel like you’re at one with nature when people are gabbing loudly on their cell phones and you’re fighting for one square-foot patch of grass to sit on.

Maybe it’s the rugged-Midwest, I-went-to-camp-for-nine-years girl in me, but lately I really have been craving some sort of escape from the concrete jungle.  Of course, ideally, I’d love to go on a camping trip and explore nature for a week or two like I did when I was younger; however, since it’s hard to get away from the city, that’ll have to wait a little.

Instead, I’ve been trying to look for new ways to essentially “leave” the city without actually leaving it.  I mean, why not?? New York is jam-packed with so many lesser-known nooks and spaces that it makes sense to see what there is to offer locally.  I swear it’s possible to go on vacation in your own neighborhood on this island: to say that I see something new every day would be an understatement.

So, while flipping through a recent issue of TimeOut New York, I noticed a blurb about these small, public gardens in the East Village.  It was so nice out that we decided to walk over there and check them out.  We weren’t exactly expecting lush, vibrant gardens–a few flowers and trees would be just fine for my needs.

(photo credit: http://newyorkdailyphoto.blogspot.com/)

From the outside, the gardens look way shady: tall and rusty chain-link fences with bizarre, recycled art lining the top edges and virtually no way to see what’s contained within them.  But in we walked to La Plaza Cultural.

(photo credit: http://theweblicist.com)

Right when we stepped inside, a woman walked by us and ask if we wanted any food.  I looked to my left and there was an entire table of food and a bunch of people eating away.  This is just one way in which the garden itself felt like a small community–in another area, families were there playing with their kids, in another, men were sitting on benches chatting, and under a wooden roof, women were cooking a feast.  This garden felt special, as if it were cultivated and maintained for the exact reasons these people were using it for.  There was nothing generic about it; instead, it had character that cannot be found in an institution like Central Park.

We found out that the garden is maintained year-round by all volunteers, which is why it has such an organic feel to it.  We also realized why it’s nearly impossible to see inside of the gardens while standing outside the fences: it’s so that once you’re inside, it’s nearly impossible to see outside and be bothered by the cabs, the hoards of people, and the rest of city life.

In these “walls” I felt as if I were somewhere else, albeit not some luxury oasis, but rather just a quaint spot away from the monotony that often takes over the lives of city-dwellers.  And for now, temporarily, my Green Envy has been cured.

(photo credit: http://sidewalkphotography.blogspot.com)

Don’t Hire Me to Be Your Interior Designer

 

Last Saturday night was the grand finale of the month-long birthday madness.  This time, it involved some action on my part.  Yes, we had a get-together birthday slash apartment-warming party, so that meant that the apartment had to be presentable to the public.  And let’s just say that on Friday the apartment still was in no condition to be shown to the throngs of people we expected to show up. 

Okay, that last part (about the throngs of people) is actually a lie: apparently, it’s an unspoken rule that if you live in Manhattan, you must leave Manhattan for the month of July. At least those New Yorkers who have the luxury of owning a “summer home” or mooching off their friends who do.  Because of this rule, we weren’t expecting a giant turnout. 

One thing Esquire and I decided we really needed before we reveal our apartment to the world (our friends) is new bedding.  We had just swapped his bed for a queen-size one from his parent’s house, and the only bedding we had to go with it were one set of sheets with goldfish on them and a floral duvet–both given to us as stand-ins until we bought new things. 

On Saturday we walked over to Bed Bath & Beyond super excited about finally having adult bedding.  We knew we wanted something to match the beautiful rug that a family-friend gave to us, so the mission was to find a duvet cover a little bit on the lighter side since everything else in our bedroom is dark.  And then we needed sheets, maybe a deep blue or red to match the colors in the rug.  

After searching the entire basement floor of BB&B (not impressed by the selection, I will add), we decided to go with a duvet cover that was beige with some detailing, and a set of sheets that were a deep red.  The sheets looked very comfortable, and they were “eco-friendly” so we were confident in our purchases. 

Right when we came back home, we began dressing the bed.  Everything seemed fine as we stuffed the duvet into the new cover until we lay it out on the bed.  Something looked…off.  ”Uh-oh,” Esquire said. “The duvet cover is so thin that the floral pattern of the duvet shows through.”  I couldn’t believe it.  And so my denial started to kick in:  ”Well, maybe it’s just because–Why don’t we— Should we try—NOOOOOOOO!!!”  He was right.  It looked horrible.  All of our time spent debating over which one would look best in our room gone to waste.  I just wanted everything to work out and not have to think about bedding anymore.  I was so desperate that I even suggested the ridiculous idea of buying a new duvet, as if this new cover was soooo special and soooo perfect–which it wasn’t. 

 

see the pink and green floral showing through?

Ok, so at least the sheets are a keeper, right?  Right???

Unpacking the sheets from their boxes, I commented that they seemed really silky.  But when we started to put them on the bed, I had a realization: OHMYGOD WE BOUGHT PORNO SHEETS!  I immediately decided these are not sheets normal people would have, I don’t care how “eco-friendly” they are. Not only are they silky, but they are also really really shiny.  The first thing that came to mind are the sheets that Christian from Nip/Tuck has in his bedroom.  In you’re unfamiliar, Christian is a sex-obsessed player, and, well, I’m not sure I want that to be the first thing that comes to other peoples’ minds when they see our bedroom. 

 

so silky smooth

 Our shopping trip was a complete failure.  So much for finishing the bedroom. 

But there wasn’t much time to dwell on my domestic ineptitude because there was a party to plan for.  The rest of the day was spent cleaning, scrubbing, and swiffering the apartment.  We told guests to arrive at 9:30 so we could spend about an hour and a half having wine and cheese and desserts, and then we would head over to the bar around 11:00.  

At about 9:00, Esquire and I set up all the goods on the kitchen table.  Everything was ready, and I didn’t even have a panic attack in the process (okay, maybe I did have a minor freak out about a runaway strapless bra, but other than that, I was totally calm!)

 

our lovely spread

That is, I was calm until it was 9:30, I was pacing around the apartment, and the only semblance of a party was our killer playlist blasting from the speakers.  In other words, no one was there.  

I realize that in New York, it’s practically illegal to show up on time to anything, so I didn’t expect people to be there yet.  But when it was 10:00 and Esquire and I were already done with our first glass of wine, I got a little nervous.  We started to reassure ourselves: “Well so-and-so DEFINITELY said they were coming.”  ”Yeah and so did so-and-so.”  ”Ok, good. We’re okay, they’ll show up any minute now.”

Thank GOD our first guests arrived at 10:15 or else who knows what I would have done.  I was practically sweating already from pacing around so much.  

From then on, more and more people stopped by.  Friends brought friends, wine and cheese were consumed, and music was on point.  My roommate from abroad even showed up!  The bar was a great spot too.  I think Esquire and I were successful party throwers.  To finish up the post, I’ll show a few pics from the night:

 

desserts from down the block--look at those cannolis!

 

no comment

Do Blog [about] Good Bistros

Esquire had a big “milestone” birthday this year.  Apparently, it’s standard practice to “milk” these birthdays for as long as you possibly can.  And in New York, what better way is there to “milk” the birthdays than to have friends take you out to dinner?  This post is going to be mostly restaurant review (although I am probably the least qualified person to ever be reviewing a restaurant that isn’t Leo’s Coney Island or any Middle Eastern place–see: lack of eating meat; fear and hatred of tomatoes). 

Last Thursday night our friends J² took us out to a brand new “hot spot” restaurant called DBGB. This is Daniel Boulud’s latest place, and let’s just say, one glance at the online menu and I was…scared. 

 

...in with the new

FIFTEEN different types of sausages, THREE specialty burger creations, and pig’s FEET and HEAD.  And I haven’t even made it onto the main courses yet. 

To give the DBGB credit, they have a great selection of seafood, which I am more than willing to eat. 

The place itself is awesome.  It’s right on the Bowery, just below where the concert venue, CBGB used to be (hence the play on words with the name).  Inside is a front room where you can just hang out and drink near the bar, and then there’s a bigger back room where we sat.  The kitchen is all open, so you can watch as the burgers fly right off the shelf, one giant burger after another.  But then there’s also a separate dessert “station”–luckily, this is the direction I was facing.  There’s also a huge collection of copper pots sitting on shelves all around the back room; apparently these were all given to Daniel Boulud from his fellow chefs. 

J² don’t like to skimp when it comes to eating, so Esquire and I knew we were in for a big meal–we just didn’t know how big. 

We started out with a bottle of champagne and oysters–come on, it was a celebration! Then we moved onto the appetizers.  There were too many to go into details about, but I will give two thumbs up (or whatever food critics give) to the Octopus La Plancha.  

While I moved on to a spicy crab cake, the other three began their adventures in gluttony.  Yes, I am referring to the four giant sausages that found their way to our table.  I regret that I didn’t take pictures of any of the food–I think I was too in awe or too interested in my own gorging to bother with the camera. 

After the sausage, we could not believe we still had main courses coming–why did we even bother? Nonetheless, I got the paprika and sage-crusted monk fish, J-Guy got the duck, and Esquire and J-Girl got burgers.  The monk fish was okay, definitely not the highlight of the meal.  I actually preferred munching on the fries.  

Finally, it came time for dessert.  There are three different kinds of unique specialty sundaes on the menu, but throughout dinner we kept seeing this giant white “log” (as Esquire like to call it) go by us every five minutes or so.  We decided we had to try it, no matter what it was.  Well, it turned out to be Baked Alaska, which in my opinion sounds a lot better than it looks.  For some reason, it just didn’t live up to the hype–I would have just preferred an ice cream sundae. 

the log

After all was said and done, and we practically all had our pants unbuttoned at the table, we concluded that although this was a rich, decadent, over-the-top meal, we probably would need to wait a while before running back there.

Here’s a quick rundown of all the necessary facts for our dining experience at DBGB:

Arrival time: 9:00pm                                                                                                          Departure time: 12:45am                                                                                                 Total Courses Consumed: unknown, but thank GOD we didn’t go for the cheese plate                                                                                                                               Approximate weight gain: too scared to check                                                       Total hours spent at gym the next day: not enough (sorry, Mom!)

Oh! One more thing: so while Esquire and I were in the cab on the way back to our apartment, we were trying to come up with a good review to post on Twitter (yes, I have Twitter–so should you).  Esquire came up with the idea of using the acronym, and we just let it go from there.  Here are the winners:

DBGB: Definitely Be Gyming Bountifully    

DBGB: Delicious Beer, Great Bubbly

DBGB: Definitely Be Giving Birth 

and, most importantly:

DBGB: Definitely Be Going Back

32nd Floor, 42nd Street, Hudson River

photos from nine days ago

flash off = blurry fireworks

 

chaos in the streets

Sunny-Side Up

I decided I’m gonna do the weekend wrap-up in a few posts, just because it might be too long to cram into one post.  Soooo…

Last weekend was busy and nonstop.  Even though there were relaxing moments, I still felt as if I were constantly running around from place to place.  I ended up getting Friday off work so Esquire invited his brother and brother’s girlfriend to come to the city on Thursday night and go out with us.  Our first house guests!  This would be fun, right?  I cleaned the apartment and made sure everything looked presentable for their arrival.  Well, the night started out fine.  We gave them the grand tour of the mansion apartment and then headed out to a bar in the ‘hood.  Everything was going smoothly.

so happy and innocent

Later in the night (about 1:30am), someone suggested that we go to a really tasty (and upscale) late-night food place.  We hop in a cab and head over to the restaurant.  I don’t know if I just wasn’t paying attention to what was going on, but after I got out of the cab and started walking towards the restaurant, I looked around  and noticed that all three of the people I was with were gone!  I’m thinking to myself, how could I lose them? The restaurant is literally a block away from where the cab dropped us off.  I can’t be walking that fast–in these shoes!

Finally, Esquire, his bro, and the gf show up, mumbling something about the cab driver.  Anyway, we walk into the restaurant, order some oysters, and then suddenly I start to have these thoughts that all three of them are mad at me because of something I did.  I couldn’t shake this completely irrational feeling.

I have no idea why I became so paranoid, but all I know is that I got up out of my seat, told Esquire I was walking home (at 2:00am!!), and then left the restaurant.  He said, “OK,” without seeming to even think twice.

On the walk home (a good 15 minutes from my apartment), the fact that Esquire didn’t stop me from going home by myself further reconfirmed that, yes, I did do something wrong.  But still, why didn’t he stop me from walking home alone? I could have gotten attacked! (again, irrational).

Then, when I’m about halfway between the restaurant and my apartment, Esquire calls me and tells me he’s coming to meet up with me.  When he walked up to me, he said something happened at the restaurant (sorry, no details) and he couldn’t leave.  Plus, he thought I was bluffing about actually walking home.  In any other situation, he would have been right about me bluffing, but not this time.

Let’s just say I was mad when I saw him.

Finally, we make it back to our apartment.  But we’re still “calmly” discussing the night’s events outside before we go into our place.  All of a sudden, amidst my composed yelling, I see something small and round flying in the air and *splat!* landing right next to my feet.  But I was so in the zone that I didn’t even think about what just had happened.

Esquire did, though.  ”I think someone just threw an egg at you from their window!”  But I’m all like, I don’t even care that someone’s throwing raw eggs at me–wait, WHAT?

Then another egg comes *splat!* right between us on the sidewalk.  Now, Esquire is furious.  No one throws eggs at his girlfriend.  We look up and see a guy in an apartment across the street standing in his window.  Culprit found.  Before I knew it, Esquire was across the street and trying to climb the fire escape to get into the guy’s apartment, à la Spiderman.

Let’s just say I went upstairs before I knew what might have possibly ensued.  Shortly after, Esquire came up too, when he realized the egg-thrower from across the street was protected and untouchable inside his building and that, in fact, he is no Spiderman.

Bottom line: Esquire apologized to me about the night, and I apologized for being irrational and impulsive.  The next morning we laughed about it–seriously, who gets eggs thrown at them by a random stranger?

Simplicity

I could eat this every day for breakfast:

Just some…

*Trader Joe’s Non-fat Plain Greek yogurt

*A handful of blueberries

*1/2 a sliced banana

*Some fresh strawberries from the Union Square farmer’s market

*A drizzle of agave

So easy & filling–yum.  A weekend re-cap post is on its way!