Much, much too long since my last post!

Already it’s August, deep into the heart of the summer, and these past sunny months have been part restful relaxation and part wild goose chase…

it’s been a wonderful, rich summer of travels to far off lands (Spain, Singapore, and France), weddings, lots of time in the great outdoors, and, of course, drawing! Everywhere I went, my sketchbook went, too– here are some highlights, starting off with some pictures from San Feliu de Guixols, off the Mediterranean Coast in Spain.

The little girl below was insisting her sister help her with her sandals!

More posts and more drawings to come very soon!

Anyone who lives in New England understands how lonnnnnnng the winter can feel… the first day it feels even slightly warm, we all sprint outside to revere the sun!

It doesn’t feel like non-winter to me until I can hike into some semblance of wilderness– fortunately, my fiance and I were able to steal a few hours last weekend and pay homage to the great outdoors again. It was muddy and involved a lot of leap-frogging over lake sized puddles, but glorious nonetheless! Here is a sketch of one of the views.  In the distance you can see the Boston skyline.

We also got a chance to head to the shore recently to hike on Plum Island:

Just returned from a trip to Mystic Seaport, CT,  with the Dalvero Acadamy. I’ve visited Mystic a number of times now, including other seasons, but my favorite time there is January.  There are just a handful of visitors, bundled from head to toe, and the only sounds are the wind across the water, a ship’s bell,  and the occasional seagull or goose honk. As I was drawing this ship, the Amazon, it was so still, I could hear the water shifting underneath the cracked ice.

It makes me so happy to try to capture the feeling at the seaport, the textures and colors  so rich with history.  The weekend ended much too soon!

I’ve been waiting and waiting for our city’s main library to open up! The construction started four years ago where the original 1889 building was restored and renovated and a new, green, glass-paneled addition was added to the side.  And now finally… the doors have opened! The interior is beautiful, light filled and spacious, but I spent a while outside sketching the exterior. I love the way it expands out like two huge arms spread across the ground. And then, of course, I think of all those books — all that thought and knowledge and human connection waiting for you inside.

The Cambridge/Boston area is filled with pockets of color like this, most brilliant in the October and November months…

copyright © 2009 Sara Dilliplane
I recently returned from my annual trip to Disney World with the Dalvero Acadamy. Every year,  months beforehand, my friend (and fellow 1104 Studio member) Danielle and I anticipate what we’ll see and do at Disney… and then we get there and the world gets turned on its head! There’s something about this Disney place that makes great training for artists — whether it’s the volume of people there, the international spectrum, the cross-cultural imagination, the music and design and performance, I can never pinpoint what makes it so beneficial. All of the above, no doubt! After 10 days of drawing at Disney, my brain always gets a much-needed rewiring. I love it! Below is a view of the Spectro Magic Parade and Main Street USA at the Magic Kingdom.
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copyright 2009 Sara Dilliplane
A few weekends ago I was in Syracuse, New York, for the fourth of July. As the sun set, we saw the Syracuse Symphony Orchestra perform on the old fairgrounds followed by a beautiful display of fireworks. There’s something about the marriage of music and those brilliant sparks of colored light that always gives me goosebumps!

We also took advantage of the rare non-rainy day (the Northeast is having the rainiest summer) to explore the trails around Beaver Lake, a nature preserve in the farming area just outside of Syracuse. Halfway through the Bog Trail, we came across these two water snakes, sunning themselves near some rocks.
all images copyright 2009 Sara Dilliplane
We sat and watched them for at least 10 minutes: the one on the rock didn’t budge a millimeter, but the one in the water gradually edged closer to the rock so imperceptibly slow, you hardly noticed him moving. Then the two snakes stayed locked in a staring contest, motionless, yet clearly in deep conversation.
Later, we came across this clearing in the woods where a few tired walkers sat resting on the fallen pine trees. In the afternoon light, the forest floor of pine needles looked lavender and rose-colored…

Further up ahead, my boyfriend spotted a doe and her two fawns, which unfortunately I missed — I was facing the opposite direction drawing the clouds over Beaver Lake:

We kept looking for the deer on our way back to the main gate, but they had disappeared into the forest.

On a recent trip to Philadelphia, I stood in front of Independence Hall and was struck by how small it looked next to the modern city buildings rising up around it. But stand in front if it for a while and it grows right before your eyes!  I imagined the voices of John Adams, Jefferson, Washington, Hamilton, all echoing inside this very building. I could hear their words bouncing off the bricks, the original cobblestones lining the street, the debate that led to drafting of our famous Declaration and the birth of our country.

I keep thinking of the word “declaration,” what it meant in those pre-Revolutionary War days, what it still means.  A declaration: explanation, illumination, storytelling. The Declaration of Independence was an explanation of why the Continental Congress voted for autonomy; it was a compass, providing a map for our fledgling country. It told the story of what was to come.
When Abigail Adams moved into the half-finished White House on Pennsylvania Avenue, she watched the team of slaves work during the cold Northeast months to build a symbol of independence.  She saw the irony in a War for Independence fought by a country still dependent on slavery. But she could envision a time when the first black president would move his family into that very architectural symbol.

America is one gigantic art project– a messy, wonderful, and irreplaceable work in progress.

Philadelphia, PA

The other night at dinner, friends and I were talking about our favorite restaurants and the first one that popped into my head was a tiny place in Lisbon. Tucked away on a little street in the maze of Barrio Alto, the restaurant held about 7 tables, the gigantic chef came out to sit at our table in between courses, and the food was divine.  Just thinking about this funny, wonderful little hole-in-the-wall place, I was instantly transported back to the graceful, historically gritty and romantic beauty that is Portugal. My head is still filled with images of my trip there last fall, so I thought I’d post some drawings. It is a place that stole my heart!

copyright 2009 Sara Dilliplane

near the Praça dos Restauradores

people, cafes, and trams in Barrio Alto

Portugal is rough around the edges, a little dirty, with some buildings so old they seem to ache with age. It also has some of the most breathtaking light and spectrum of color I have ever seen … and you can see the effect of this beauty in the Portuguese peoples’ faces. Their skin seem to radiate; they take in light and bounce it back out onto you. This energy balances the antiquity, keeping Lisbon fresh and alive, somewhere in between old and new.

Just after drawing this monastery (the Jerónimos monastery in Belém), I was freezing as the sun set and the wind picked up. We went to the famous Casa Pastéis de Belém to drink espresso and eat the pastry originally created by the monks from Jerónimos. The cakes were so fresh, still hot from the oven, and created from a recipe over a hundred years old. I can still taste it!