I've become adrift in my own history. The sketchbooks go back to the beginning of art school. At that time I drew constantly. On the subway, at bars (drinking age was 18), at Julliard (I talked my way into the barre classes because The Royal Ballet of London was in town), and pretty much everywhere else. Now there is more painting going on with drawing usually happening when I travel.
So I've picked the ones that grab me without too much structural considerations other than a kind of hat-tipping to time. Some people I drew a lot and some hardly at all, although they were deeply meaningful to me. Some snuck into paint. The curse of the Piscean mind. alert: This one is long and sometimes the email will be clipped--it will say at the end (but notreally the end): to view entire message click here