Sunday, June 29, 2014


Obviously my snappy title for this blog is in reference to the hell-hound in the Sherlock Holmes tale of terror mystery (The Hound of the Baskervilles, 1902) set in Dartmoor, England.

My tale is not so terrible.  My tale is set in present day Regina, Canada.  My tale is one of frustration, a tale of attempting to solve the mystery of how-to-draw Zoey, which I did solve, but after three tries.

Here is Zoey:

And here is attempt number one:

Though the actual artwork is appealing, I quite disliked this picture because it did not look like Zoey.  I, the critic, saw the face as being too narrow, the snout too small, and the eyes too big.

And here is attempt number two:

This depiction of Zoey was closer but not quite what I was attempting to do.  To me, it still did not look like Zoey.  The snout was still a tad small and the eyes a tad too big.  The width of the face I got!

And here is attempt number three:

Finally!  A Zoey drawing that I like!  I’ve never met Zoey but still I recognize that at last I DREW the Zoey that I SEE in the picture sent to me on my IPhone.

Zoey was a mystery, and Zoey proved to be a mystery that I solved.

And, dear reader, why would I write such a drawing tale?  Is this story of Zoey really just another of my Aesopian tales to be pondered? 

Could this story really be about searching for a life that I can love, a life of meaning and adventure, fulfilled by drawing people and pet portraits down on the sidewalks in the local farmers markets?

Or could this story of drawing Zoey be a last middle-aged attempt to create an amaranthine existence, imagining that my I-am-old-and-afraid-to-die signature on the bottom right of every portrait that I sketch shall be forever hanging in a frame on a wall within a house somewhere in the world?

Could it be that this tale of Zoe (pun intended) is simply an appeal to my complicated friend, Robin (whose mother belongs to Zoey:), an attempt to contribute something of significance (to her) toward our friendship?  To put this into perspective, are the frustrations of drawing Zoey representative of yet another significant (to me) dram of my complications at work and at home and at play?

Could it be that I am but a thinking-too-much meshuggener, with just another of my crazy tales told to embellish and embigger what I really do with my sketchbook and pencil down at the Market?  That by adding all these fanciful graphite details of drawing Zoey somehow makes my portraiture much more important that what it really is?  (Referring to portraiture rather than sketching does this too, does it not?)

Or am I just the ever tormented narcissist attempting to convince the reader that I’ve this prodigious talent for drawing faces, and I need to keep wanting the world (the readers of this blog and the walkers of the market) to know this?

Could it be that I am that wildcatter busker (pun intended), first sketching portraits of people, now sketching portraits of pooches, lobbying for sketching cats next on the list?  (Several people did ask if I could draw their moggies should they bring pictures of their mousers to Market next Saturday!)

Or … is this particular essay just another drawn-out pointless shaggy-dog tale (pun intended on all sorts of levels), offering excitement for the writer (me) but boring for the reader (you).

Hmmm … not surprisingly, I did meet some very enjoyable people down at the Market.  Here is my CHAUCERIAN PARADE of humans ... NOT hounds:



  • RON said I made him look old ... he was being funny.
  • KEVIN insisted he tell every passer-by my age ... he was being funny (a lovely couple).
  • MADISON and BAILEY and RYLAND and JILL and MARIUS was my BIGGEST drawing ever.  What a beautiful family!
  • STU is my favorite photographer who has shot me many times over the years.  This is the first time I'd met his wife, PEGGY.

Stu’s accoutrement is his camera -- my accoutrement is a pencil. 

Stu’s camera shutters at the truth -- my pencil never lies!

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