Some things trigger memories. Memories of places that echo time spent there. I was pacing the bison herd on the eastern fringes of the Tetons National Park last summer. This bull was seemingly having a bad day. He was snorting and pawing the ground, just kicking up the dust. The little bison calf just didn’t care. He walked within a few feet of the bull nonchalantly pausing to scratch his ear.

The bull's hooves clattered against the rocks as he made the river crossing. Just before he crossed the river he stopped to take a drink. As soon as he took a couple of big gulps of water his attitude improved. Nothing like a cool drink to improve a disposition. 

It is easier to draw big. It is harder to draw small.  I just completed a series of mini drawings, each just 6 x 6” total drawing surface. That means the hawk in the drawing is about 1/24^th life size.  

When you draw small, pencils have to be sharper. The lines must be more refined. The values require more definition. The clay surface is smoother than my usual  fine art drawing paper and more demanding. 

The challenge with small is that everything has to be better. I’m hoping that this level of attention to detail translates to more effective drawing on a larger area.  The smaller I draw, the more I must leave out. There just isn’t room for every line. Eyes are so important and so very tiny in these mini pieces.

Many people think that the smaller you draw, the less time it takes.  That's not entirely true. What really happens is that a square of 1 inch becomes a square of 1/10^th of an inch and the artist has to solve the problem of filling the space with meaning regardless of size.

How do you get the texture that fills an inch to meaningfully fill a space one tenth as big? Proportionately, the tip of the pencil increases in size as the surface shrinks. As the drawing surface gets smaller, the drawing tools cover more area with each stroke.

Proportion is a bigger challenge when you drop in size as well. Even the smallest mistakes barely the width of a hair, are sometimes enough to throw relative size and position off. 

Size matters. Words like exquisite, elegant, and simply wonderful describe small works. Powerful, attention getting, dominating can describe the best of the biggest. Can that same power translate to the tiny?

Four of my miniature drawings are the May Art Special.  Check them out on my website at Monthly Special.

A storm is blowing into the Colorado Rockies. Cold and snow are piling up on the door step but I’m walking on a beach in my memory. The Outer Banks near the Currituck Lighthouse is beautiful in June. It's the perfect place for long walks on the beach. My wife and I are kept company by Sandpipers who race their reflections to delectable little morsels of food.  On the beach, sushi is for the birds.

My art triggers many memories. I look at a drawing and think, “I was there once.” I remember great times with family. Many sand sculptures were carved. Dragon sculptures were a favorite whose fierceness melted in the inevitable rise of high tide. Watching my sons and their cousins play in the surf always brought a smile. Beach times were great times.

There is simplicity in this drawing. It’s not complicated, just a bird and a fuzzy reflection. But as I look at it, the drawing begins to reveal subtle things. Questions take shape, “Where is that bird going?” As it skitters from one place to another, is there a split second where it flies, neither claw touching the ground?” “How can such slender legs move so quickly?” Most of all, “Why do Sandpipers like to keep me company?”

This drawing will keep my memories warm in winter. Warm places and good memories, the combination could not be better.

Limited edition giclee prints of the Currituck Sandpiper can be purchased from my web site or contact me directly to place an order.

When rushing from one art fair to another,  it always seems that time is short and the must do list is long. Hurry up is a constant companion to giddy up.  So, it was peddle to the metal on my way to Jackson, Wyoming, a travel day of 600 long miles.

But every now and then you just have to stop and look. I was just a few miles outside Boulder, Wyoming, when I spotted an osprey nest. One osprey was resting in the nest and the other was perched on a fence post a hundred yards to the north. 

The nest was located down by a stream and the road rose to a height just across from the nest.  Fortunately, a nearby turnout made for an easy, instant decision.  I pulled the jeep off the road, grabbed my camera, and walked back to that place on the road right across from the nest.  Maybe, just maybe, I could shoot down into the nest and get a picture of an adult osprey and her chicks.

 As I approached the osprey in the nest, it let out a short, sharp whistle. The closer I came, the more rapidly it called to its mate. The other osprey on the fence post casually glanced over its shoulder and then, with a beat of its wings, took off flying away from the nest.

I watched as it went behind a line of trees and made a sharp turn to the west. I thought that it was going to fly around the bluff on my left and come in from behind where I was standing. What a great opportunity for some action shots, I thought. In anticipation I set my camera for six frames a second. With my 500 mm lens I should be able to get 20 or 30 good shots.

Unknowingly, I was just about to get a first hand lesson in dynamic soaring.

With my finger on the shutter and my camera rock solid on my monopod, I waited. The osprey rocketed out from behind the edge of the bluff. It must have been traveling well over a hundred miles an hour. With claws extended it zeroed on my position. In reflex my finger held down the shutter. I took three frames, one half a second worth of shooting, before biting the dust. That long lens must make things look bigger than they really are. 

Just a few days later I was watching an osprey hunt over the big bend of the Snake River in the Tetons. It would skim the river at high speed several times. When it spotted what it wanted it gained elevation and then dived into the water flying out of the depths with a fish in its claws. I found out that the osprey can dive up to 12 feet under water to catch its prey.

How absolutely awesome.

I couldn't wait to get back to my studio and draw an osprey from this trip. You can purchase limited edition giclee prints of "Osprey In Flight" by visiting  Art Works - Bird Collection at my website at http://jsullivanart.com.

Have you ever seen an eagle drawing? I have. I’ve seen eagles scribing lazy circles hundreds of feet in the air. I’ve seen them drawing high speed lines over grassy fields. I’ve seen them drawing a bead on unsuspecting rabbits and ground squirrels. I’ve seen eagles drawing. And, I’ve seen a drawing of an eagle; several in fact.

"Empty Nest" was my drawing about a bald eagle leaving his nest in a flurry of adolescent feathers kicked out to fend for himself. A bald eagle falling into the sky from a post six feet high turned into my drawing, "Eagle On A Post."  The drawing, "Eagle Hearts" honors a wedding and featured a bird and her reflection mated for life. The two birds are alike, but different. Just like a happily married couple.

Graceful lines, sharp beaks, powerful claws capture my attention and in doing so draw on my imagination. Perhaps it is my imagination that makes the eagle’s story come to life for me.  Perhaps it is many years experience hiking and working outdoors.  Perhaps it is a combination of watching and waiting.  

Whatever the story, freedom is found in eagles.  Freedom from demands of cell phones and e mails, and artificial urgency.  It is the freedom found in the struggle for survival where there is time just to be an eagle.

"To Be An Eagle" is the first of three eagle drawings I'm currently working on. "I Am Eagle" is also finished that you can see at Art Works, New Work Collection

During March 2010, "To Be An Eagle" is my monthly special purchase.  Check it out at Monthly Special.

The Red Crowned Crane is a magical bird who flies through the orient. Indigenous to Japan and China, the Red Crowned Crane lives a long life and mates for life.

The word crown suggests royalty. Rising above the common, the Red Crowned Crane travels far on wings stretched from sunrise to sunset. One day as I watched these cranes I wondered, what do they talk about? In a thousand miles of travels rowing the air with their wings, gliding through the cool clouds, what crosses their minds? Safe landings, good grain, and raising their young may fill their thoughts. What fills their royal conversations? I doubt that it is the economy. That is a human invention.

Mates fly together with the thought, “I want to be with you on the long journey through life. Let us fly together.” That thought alone is enough for the long journeys, dark nights, cool mornings, loafing in the long warm afternoons, and sunset dancing.

Those thoughts are enough for Valentine’s Day. Don’t you think?

Order a signed, limited edition giclee print of "The Royal Conversation" from J. Sullivan's Art for only $99, the February Valentine's Day special.  To order, click here Monthly Special Ordering.