pencil · september · sketchbook p. 11
three pears in the green bowl that lives on the kitchen table. they were not arranged. one had a bruise the size of a sixpence; I put it at the back, on purpose, where the eye would not catch it first. it caught it anyway. weisman's pear sat in the back of my head while I drew.
the leaf on the central pear is invented. there was no leaf. but the pear without a leaf looked unfinished, the way a person without a name looks unfinished, and so I gave it one. drawings are sometimes more polite than fruit.
what is wrong is the bowl. it sits too high. I have drawn the pears as though they were stacked on a plate, not nested in a bowl. the bowl has lost its depth — became a saucer somewhere between the third and fourth contour. I left it. it teaches me something for the next page.
field-note · margin ate the bruised one before bed. it was better than the others. drawings can lie about that too.