My debut in Rolling Stone

Thirty years ago I sent an envelope full of xeroxes to the art department at Rolling Stone. They liked the art enough to publish quite a few of my little maps and squibs on the letters page in 1981 and 82. A nice gig, but I was never named gardening editor, never met Hunter Thompson. My style has evolved quite a lot since my salad days.

Ballplayer

I can almost hear the crack of the bat. Hello baseball. This sketchbook painting is from a few summers ago, but the ballplayer is from longer ago when muscles were grown by hauling ice and lifting bales.

Ball Games

Heading into another summer weekend, I am remembering the games played many years ago, chiefly whiffleball. Basketball was played earlier in the year in our neighborhood, soccer later, football in the fall, winter was spent at the ski hill down the street. Whiffleball was perfect because it didn't require full teams or large yards. Baseball was organized; there were coaches who yelled at you, and umpires who called you out. Whiffleball was played with a ball that was lighter than air. It was disorganized, freeform, games usually broke up over disputed plays, making it a perfect reflection of childhood's dynamics. I did this illustration for an article in the Atlantic about a serious grown-up whiffleball league in Florida. Grownups always find ways of killing the joy of the game. I did my best not to flatter the athletes. Note the cleavage on the player in the middle.

The American Pasttime

This ballplayer appeared in my sketchbook a couple of years ago. He's a bygone figure (note the baggy knickers.) His muscles are the kind you get hauling ice or baling hay, not from a syringe. He is a Honus Wagner type. With all the imaginative names in baseball it's surprising there isn't anyone named Honus playing today. I am going to see the Twins play tonight in their new outdoor stadium. I attended the last game at the old Met Stadium; a very cold football game. My son wishes I had torn out my seat and taken it home.

Baseball

The body in motion presents challenges, especially for someone like me who never took a proper life drawing class. If you aren't a trained artist the human figure becomes a set of clothes pieced together, the body and bones inside being incidental. The contortions of a baseball player present this challenge in the extreme. An interesting puzzle to piece together with pencil and paper. I remember seeing the famous photographs of Sandy Koufax and thinking he must have been throwing his shoulder out of joint with every pitch.

This high kicking pitcher I did for Harper's is more reminiscent of Juan Marichal. Few lines, long limbs, an improbable posture, but instantly real. I learned that it became easier to draw an athlete in action if I made a point of loosening up too, giving the hand free play, not worrying so much about the specific points of accuracy in order to capture the larger gesture. Sports are full of exaggeration anyway. The art director was Stacey Clarkson.