It’s the Light.

I am what is termed a “teaching artist,” an artist who teaches others to make and consider and appreciate art. A good part of my professional life prior to education was as a designer, creative director, photographer, and illustrator, so it’s pretty safe to say that I’m fairly fine tuned toward and aware of the visual world around me.

Light, in particular, catches my attention, as do patterns, and colors, and textures. Typography, and the rhythm of letterforms. But light! The contrast of light against shadow. Light upon a reflective surface, carving a highlight along an edge, disappearing or emerging from murky shadow.

My studio is a workspace rather than a display area; it’s not a gallery but a place of books and tables and shelves. A sofa filled with lounging black labs, and a cat or two. Floor-to-ceiling windows and diffused light entering from a side door. Various of my bikes lean against book shelves or hang from a rack, and these tend to rotate out with those hanging from ceiling hooks out in the workshop – their number varies dependent upon what bike I rode last, the one I just dismounted from, the one that saw road time yesterday.

They lean there, waiting for the next ride, directly in front of my drawing table, immediately before me as I sit, pen in hand. The late afternoon light enters at an oblique angle, bathing things in a soft glow. It doesn’t take much for me to become engulfed in the sight. I am obsessed with bikes of a certain ilk to begin with, and the light simply renders an already attractive subject even more so.  The lines, the design. It’s the light.

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