Sketch by Dada, circa mid-seventies. On the bottom I noticed the instructor had scrawled "B-", probably because of the misshapened, missized, misdrawn, prematurely rheumatoid arthritic hand of the model.
Our last night in Taos, at the invitation of an artist friend, we attended the opening of a show in one of the many art galleries in town. During such receptions, it is customary to serve wine and sometimes light snacks to the attending public.
While Taos is a small community, there is more art, art galleries, exhibits and receptions for artists per capita than communists in Cuba. And I suspect as this nation slides deeper and deeper into economic chaos and despair as the central banks in China, Japan, Taiwan, South Korea and Hong Kong dump U.S. dollars that have enabled American global hubris, in Taos more and more dispossessed people will become connoisseurs, if not of art, of the wine and snacks of sustenance offered at these art exhibition's openings. This particular night there were several such receptions in town.
But judging from this well attended event Saturday evening, I'd say those present for the art outnumbered those there to silence the grumblings of their empty bellies. And I didn't notice any communists there either--I think, although I did meet one Cuban from Miami.
The theme of this particular exhibit was the nude. It was highlighted by a series of photos of a local woman in the buff at various locations around a deserted Taos plaza at 2:30 in the morning. Around this core group of photos were drawings, paintings, even a sculpture or two by other artists.
Dada "Nude, number 737," mid-1970's. I had to lighten this photo with graphics software, so badly darkened is the newsprint it's drawn on.
Well, I came away from Taos more inspired than usual. As a result, I went in search of some of my old sketches when we returned home. Few remain. That's remarkable, because I took nine semesters of life drawing classes. But most of my work was done on newsprint and newsprint doesn't age well. It tends to yellow over time and, like us all, eventually turns to dust. As a result, I've culled most of those old sketches over the years and discarded them.
These then are but a couple of the few remaining. Perhaps I should frame 'em and one day have an exhibit. Maybe I'll call it, "The B Minus Drawings."