Have you noticed that almost every cafe has wi-fi these days, and how almost every cafe with wi-fi is serving as the home office for an army of laptop-wielding telecommuters and students. Don’t mistake my observation for a critique, though. I am one of those laptop jockeys, and on any given day I can be seen poring over a manuscript or some research notes at one of several East Bay haunts. I love the new and expanded identity of the cafe. I really enjoy what feels like an unspoken bond with the other workers. And, more than anything else, I love that I can take my office with me wherever I go, preferably to a location that serves big glasses of ice tea.
But I digress. The man is this picture has struck a classic cafe pose. His laptop is just outside of the field of view, and he’s day dreaming, resting his eyes after staring into a computer screen for the past two hours. Starting off into space is a prime activity of telecommuters. Present company included.
This is an older drawing that I did a couple years ago, after a trip to the late great Cody’s bookstore, on Telegraph Avenue in Berkeley. I saw a happy looking guy looking at books in the Art History section. The whole time I was browsing in the store, he was smiling to himself and reading through this book on the artist Vermeer. I am a big fan of the Dutch masters, and I wanted to ask him what he liked about this particular artist and his work; but he seemed to be so deeply involved in the book that I decided not to disturb him.
This drawing is inspired by a college-aged salesman I encountered on a recent shopping trip in downtown San Francisco. He was folding sweaters in Banana Republic (or was it the GAP), and when I walked by he gave me a big smile and told me he really liked my jacket. I was quite pleased to get a compliment from such a style-savvy guy, especially for a jacket that cost me less than 30 dollars. I thanked him and told him my secret.
“It’s just a Dickies Eisenhower jacket,” I explained. It was so cheap, I bought two.
“It’s a classic,” he reassured me, “and I like Dickies clothes. They make cute stuff.”
When I think about that brief exchange, it still makes me smile. So I decided to do a drawing of him, but wearing the t-shirt and jacket I was wearing that day.
Last week I had to drop off some paintings at a building in downtown San Francisco, and this young-ish man in all white business attire and a contrasting tie caught my eye (the tie was not, in fact, green, but today felt like a green day to me, so I used a little artistic license). He was one in a clump of people crossing at the second intersection off the Fremont St. exit just past the Bay Bridge, but he stood out because of his bright white pants and shirt and because of the way he was looking over his shoulder, as though he wasn’t sure if the oncoming cars were truly going to stop at their light.
Across Oakland, construction crews are transforming the face of the city. The man in this drawings was doing some exterior painting at a construction site in the Eastmont neighborhood. He was jacket-less and in short sleeves on one of the coldest days of the year. I’m not sure where he was headed, but the look on his face suggested that he might be on his way to find a coat.
Being at the UC Library always brings back memories of my grad school days, and this drawing is inspired by thoughts of a particular grad stuent who I only knew in passing. He was from Nigeria, and I cannot recall his name, but we always had pleasant chats whenever we crossed paths, usually on the late night shuttle that ran from the University of Michigan “Diag” on the main campus to the University Terrace apartments, right beside the U of M hospital. He and I were among the large number of mostly un-married graduate students who populated what was billed and UM “family” housing. We would joke about our minimalist accomodations — one-room efficiencies with coffee-colored linoleum floors — and commiserate about the challenges of qualifying exams and dissertation writing. Though we never really cultivated what could be called a friendship, I was always glad to see him, especially on those cold nights when we were huddled in the back of the late night security van.
So, here’s a toast to that graduate student in engineering, with whom I shared several pleasant conversations. Wherever you are, I hope you’re doing well, I hope you’ve publishing many articles and — most of all — I hope you have tenure!
The holidays are over, and for me that means back into the bowels of UC Berkeley’s Doe Library for some quality time with the microfilm reader! In early January, the Doe Library is like a desert, with a small number of employees popping up here or there, but few actual patrons. Today’s drawing is inspired by that unique species of patron who actually does show up in the library during the winter break, the dissertation writer. Bleary-eyed, bespectacled, dressed in rumpled-but-comfortable clothing, and occassionally shoeless, he (or she) can be spotted deep in the stacks, scratching his head and blinking, as shocked by the sight of you as you are by the sight of him.
