pencil · february · sketchbook p. 22
drawn from the chair, in the afternoon, with the window itself behind me and a small mirror propped on the table — so that what is sketched is technically a window from a reflection. four panes upper, four panes lower; a brass latch I could not get right; a jar on the sill that turned out to be water and not paint.
the hand kept wanting to draw what the window shows, not what the window is. by the third attempt I covered the panes with a soft wash so I could not be tempted by the elm outside. a window is a frame for light; it is not a frame for landscape, although it ends up being both.
what is wrong is the perspective on the sill. it juts forward as though the wall were thin as cardboard. the wall is, in fact, sixteen inches deep. I could not make the page believe me.
field-note · margin try again from the cellar window. the light from below is honester.