I did it. I booked. I considered taking someone else then I realised it would stop me working, after all, why have company and fun when one can be lonely and a workaholic. So I have consigned myself to ELEVEN lonely days travelling in a big metal box, floating on a vast, and what seems to me to be, a dangerously deep ocean, like a fool, alone. Southampton to New York and back again. It will take me a couple of weeks to get used to the idea and another week to plan how on earth I am going to take all my drawing equipment with me, then I will be ready. In the meantime here is a pic.
Of course, I am a sociable soul and there is nothing that lifts the spirits more than a sailor and my friends have told me that there are lots of them running around on that particular ship, and if I don't find a sailor to draw there are always the Bridge players that will be holed up in a little dark room together. No, I shall have a marvellous time, me and my sketch book.
“The canary bird in the coal mine theory of the arts: artists should be treasured as alarm systems.”
My blog, a thought or two