The Artist on the Road

I’m up and out early this morning, energized by last evening’s painting. Today is Monday, and the archeological sites are always closed on Mondays, but I’m sure there are plenty of other drawing spots all over Athens. As I stroll around the city, I notice the angles of the rooftops zigzaging against the sky. Any of these eclectic buildings would be interesting to draw. But not far from the hotel, I see an arch that will be a good place to start. It’s called the Arch of Hadrian, a 2nd century AD Roman structure that served as a boundary stone between the old Athens of Theseus, a Greek, and the new Athens of Hadrian, a Roman. and I begin to sketch in my Moleskine sketchbook. I study the arch for a moment and notice that most of its white stones have been blackened considerably over the years. Cars zip past as I draw. My mind starts slowing down and falls into rhythm with the city. What a great feeling to be in Greece.

Just beyond the Arch of Hadrian, I notice that the site of the Temple of Olympian Zeus, which I drew through the fence last night, is actually open. This is exciting because I’d love to have a second opportunity to draw the ancient structure. My dad and I enter the site and I look around for the best view, set up my chair in the grass, and begin to draw. From my vantage point, the Acropolis lies in the background just behind the ruins of the Temple, dominating the landscape.

Lightly, in ink, I position the columns on the page, and using a two point perspective, estimate the height they seem relative to one another. Then I dive in with heavier line work. My drawing style is often inconsistent, and my moods can dictate the style of a piece. On some days, like today, I’m looser and not so fussy with detail, which usually means better drawings.

I’ve purposely used my watercolor block this time, since I plan to finish this drawing with paint. Only a few areas to wash in color, I think, and I’ll be done. As I’m doing this, a group of tourists appear, and some compliment me on my painting. One asks if he can take a picture of me sketching with his girlfriend standing beside me. I’m flattered, of course, and agree, but I’m beginning to feel like part of the exhibition, so it’s time to move on.

I created a map showing the major places we visited while in Athens. The narrow, zigzagging streets resemble pedestrian pathways more than motorways, but motorcycles come zipping through the crowds at surprising speeds. Athens is also greener than I imagined and that is in part do to the abundance of potted plants and flowers that line the streets, but also because of park-like areas that break the rhythm of multi-storied buildings. These little islands of greenery appear to be excavations, with Corinthian capitals and other pieces of columns lying about. History is everywhere.

While resting at the Hotel Adams and between adventures roaming the streets of Athens, I drew this simple line drawing of my dad blogging on his laptop computer. I like the still, almost meditative quality to the piece as my dad sits, lost in thought.

On my second day in Athens I finally got over jet lag enough to start painting. My first painting was the ruins of Olympian Zeus. The site was closed at the time but I found a comfortable spot to set up shop just just outside the fence. Using a Molskine watercolor sketchbook, I first created a line drawing in ink and then finished it with watercolors.

Climbing up the Metro steps at seven-thirty in the morning, I have finally arrived in Athens. At the top of the stairs, I glance back, waiting for my dad to catch up. Bags in hand, we exit the station at Syntagma Square, stepping into a sprinkling of rain from a dark sky promising more. Several hawkers crowd around, hoping to sell us umbrellas, but we politely decline and venture into the damp city.

After arriving in Athens my Metro early in the morning and searching for a place to stay, we finally settled into the Adams Hotel in Plaka, the oldest continuously occupied little city in Europe. Our second floor room is old but clean, and has a partial view of the Acropolis, which is conveniently located a few blocks away. Setting down my backpack, I pull back the curtains revealing a shallow balcony complete with bistro table and two chairs. Fortunately, the rain that welcomed us to Athens has stopped, but its presence can still be seen as water drips from the balcony above. I slide open the door and step outside just as a motorcycle whizzes along the narrow street below, leaving behind a faint smell of exhaust. From this view, the Acropolis towers above the city, a fortress embedded in a mountain of rock.

Our second floor room was old and full of character. I guess it was important to have the sink centered below the window at all costs.