and this is a recap of a post I made on that blog on Friday.]
A few weeks ago, I was on safari in South Africa, and spent a lot of time to think about how animals make or find shelter. This brought me around to nests. I’ve always loved them. When I was a kid, I used to watch the
birds working in the springtime, and worried that they might not get
their nests made before the eggs arrived. So I would make nests of mud
and grass, let them dry and then perch them up in the branches.
Sometimes in the spring, my mom would help me cut lengths of brightly
colored yarn, and hang them out in the trees. Then we’d look for them in
nests around the neighborhood.
There’s something magical about the shelter created by a nest. I think
it has to do with hope, with the waiting, quiet and still, for things to
grow, break forth, and then to take wing.
I think it is very interesting how much I think while I sketch.
Maybe that’s why I find it so relaxing and meditative. I’m usually so
busy bustling around that I don’t have much time for deep thoughts.
Sketching forces me to be in the moment, and frees my brain and my soul
For this sketch, I worked from a still life I created more than a year
ago in a glass apothocary jar. I used smooth, round stones I collected
on a beach in Washington state, a nest that I found in the woods years
ago, blue jay feathers picked up while walking the dog around my
neighborhood, and bluebird eggs that never hatched.
Setting up a still life for sketching is a lot of fun. Give it a try:
collect things you love, things that seem to go together, and arrange
them so that they please your eye. Have fun. Try bold juxtapositions.
Make something pretty, or scary, or weird. Something that tells a secret
story. Something that makes people look twice. Then sit down and sketch
I have created several pieces of fiber art with nests as their theme:
|“Harbinger’s Hope” by Susan Brubaker Knapp (2007)|
|“Nestled” by Susan Brubaker Knapp (2011)|
This last one is an appliqué design that simplifies the shapes: