My uncle has a cabin in northern Wisconsin just outside of the town of Menomonie. In April, I took a few days to go up there and to be alone. To read. To write. And to draw. To try to sit still and reconnect with myself and my past. On my last day there, I was greeted by this sunrise and had to capture it. I sat in the lawn and using charcoal, captured the house and the sunrise to freeze this memory in time. 

This time, I needed color. Winter was bleak enough under the pandemic lockdown in Chicago. Like many of us, I longed for a tropical escape. Since escape wasn’t an option, I found an old picture of a sunset filled with bright oranges and yellows with the shadow of palm trees swaying in the foreground. This was my take on it. 

Yep, I got it. But I didn’t know it at the time. I thought my body was just run down like what takes place almost like clockwork at the end of every year. When I try to tell myself, I’m going to read, plan, and do all of these things to get ready for the next year and my body says, um, no you’re not. If you won’t sit still, I’m gonna knock you out myself. This picture is me staring blankly ahead in my foggy state, unaware of why I was so worn down.

At this point, I am experimenting with charcoal. Painting is next, but I’m not quite ready so charcoal feels like a solid intermediate step. For this one, I drew my kids.  River’s name was inspired during a trip to Thailand for our second anniversary - my wife was in treatment during our first. During this trip, we were at a temple along a river where I encouraged my wife to light a candle. During treatment, she lost her faith. We were in the middle of surrogacy at the time and two failed transfers had preceded our trip, so spirits weren’t high. Several months later, after we learned my wife was pregnant, I had finally gotten around to editing our pictures from the trip when the one of her lighting the candle popped up. Immediately, I looked up the name of the river that ran alongside the temple. Ruak. Not the most mellifluous name so I asked my wife what she thought of the name River. Bodhi is named after the bodhi tree, which symbolizes wisdom and compassion in Buddhism. He is grounded to the earth as River flows by. Finally, our youngest daughter is named Raven. We liked the alliteration as well as the idea of air or flight. In this case, she is walking alongside her brother and sister, not quite ready to take to the air just yet.

Before this drawing, my kids would ask me to draw things so that they could color them in. That meant a lot of princesses and mermaids for my daughters and landscapes and dinosaurs for my son. This time, I decided to draw him a T-Rex in colored pencil on a 14’' x 17’’ sheet. Quite the undertaking. It took me almost a month to complete as I started with pencil and then added color and more detail later. 

I’ve always loved elephants. There’s just something about them that I find majestic. Regal. And yet, their faces always seem sad or pensive. Something I often feel. And after spending weeks drawing the T-Rex, I wanted to draw something more reflective of my mood at the time. The drawing itself is inspired by a photograph that may wife and I bought a few years ago after one of our Sunday lunches. Several cocktails deep, we stumbled into the studio and when I saw the photo of two adult elephants standing besides one baby elephant between them, I froze. Tears welled up in my eyes as it reminded me of our kids. So small, tucked safely between mom and dad. Looking out at an uncertain world. 

My first self-portrait was done in charcoal. In it, I appeared to be pulling back, skeptical, uncertain of me and my surroundings. It captured me early in this process of rebirth. This second portrait, while still not exactly resembling me - let’s just say the police would be on the hint for the wrong guy if this was what the sketch artist produced. That said, unlike the first drawing, this unfinished piece shows a more determined man. Someone starting to step into their own skin with more confidence and certitude. Ready to be a part of the world instead of a bystander.

Inspired by a Max Ernst painting at the Art Institute, this was the second drawing I did while sitting in the Rothko room. People swirling about me as I lost myself in the charcoal strokes. The first drawing was the first of many lighthouse drawings. As I tap into my current mood which is marked by the melancholy associated with loss, the lighthouse represents the solitary figure shining a solitary light on a dark and turbulent sea. I’m still experimenting with colors and shapes and mediums. Not happy with the result, I felt a need to change Max Ernst’s dark forest into something more colorful. This was the result.

Following my second self-portrait, I decided to go and buy art supplies to do more at home. The sunflower was my first pencil sketch on our new easel. The best part, as I was drawing, my kids dragged out their old easel and started drawing alongside me. Jennifer dragged over a chair and watched as me and the kids drew. It was a moment and now, on most weekends, you will find us at the table or the easel drawing, coloring, or sketching together.