180. Stories from a night of snowfall

my demo with OPUS, and this month's tiny story winner!

Dear reader,

It snowed all night. When you woke up early the next morning, a layer of snow covered every surface. All the colours were gone. You could not tell the road from the sidewalk. The branches of different trees looked all the same, groaning under the weight of accumulated inches.

You can think of snow as a filter, that strips away the information of your world. But snow also has a story to tell. In today’s post, some stories.

The SneakyArt Post is a publication about secretly drawn art of the world. Every week I share my work, and the best ideas from my journey of self-education to be an independent artist, writer, and podcaster.

26 Feb | Starbucks on W 19th & Cambie

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You look up at the grey sky, and watch the white crystals descend. At street level you only felt the wind in one direction, but from your high-rise apartment you can see the interplay of different currents.

Snowflakes help track the invisible patterns of your atmosphere. Wrapping around buildings, barreling down narrow alleys, caught in mighty tussles in the sky, and then, at street level, silently descending to meet the earth.

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Early in the morning, when you pull the curtains, you see black patches of footsteps against a white canvas. Follow them to trace the path of a stranger, a few minutes or even an hour ago. You could tell if they were in a hurry. You could tell if they stopped along the way. You could even tell if they had a limp.

Witness the snow disturbed at the base of a tree, from when the neighbour took the dog for a walk.

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Are the sidewalks clean when you go out?

Most cities have laws requiring homeowners to clean the sidewalks in front of their homes. This will tell you which homes are occupied and which are not. It can also tell you what kind of neighbours you have. Maybe you see them, shovel in hand or operating the snowplow, clearing a path in the late morning. This would be a good time to say hello, and thank you. They are playing a useful part in your world.

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The cry of a bird at dawn. The crunch of boots on untouched crystals. The cold sigh of your breath, condensing in the morning air.

Snow absorbs sounds and memories and time. It holds many stories for the careful observer. When the temperatures rise, they will melt away too, shapeless and indistinguishable from one another. Like water.

Dear reader, have you ever found stories in the snow?

💻 Speaking about Urban Sketching

One of my resolutions this year is to Learn in Public, by which I share all the ideas and lessons I pick up in my journey of self-education.

This week, I did a demo for OPUS Art Supplies in which I -

🖋️ spoke about drawing with ink,
✍🏼 demo-ed my drawing style,
🗣️ answered questions from attendees,
📖 shared insights from my sketchbooks, and
🧠 explained how my natural curiosity led me to urban sketching and how urban sketching led to becoming an artist.

After all, I am an accidental artist.

New readers eager to learn more about me, read this post from last summer where I re-introduce myself. Or, listen to this interview with ABC Radio National (Australia).

Feel free to share this video or post with anyone that can use it. Good ideas belong to all.

✍🏼 Winner of the Feb Tiny Story Contest

Last week I invited readers to write a tiny story for the people I found at Heathrow Airport. I received many lovely stories that gave life to my simple drawing.

The winning entry is by Rebecca Holden! Rebecca, please email me with your mailing address, I would love to send you a SneakyArt postcard.

Can you spot Rebecca’s tiny person in this drawing?

A moment of busyness at Heathrow Airport, London.

Next week, I am in New York again, doing a workshop on 5th March with the wonderfulSamantha Dion Baker. Only a few seats left to go!

Thank you for your time and attention. Talk again soon.