1906

A young American conducts his life for drawing pictures and writing books. He is sad, happy, anguished, when - how. Every day is a new day from his life.

1

 

 It was a usual cloudy day of summer. Summer was cold. Nothing pleased with such a cloudy weather. All classes seemed hopeless. I did not want to write texts. And so he decided to go to a place he loved for such a day - coffeehouse 969 on Fifth Avenue.

  He drank the first cup with a volley and asked for more. Coffee was his established habit. He drank ten cups a day without milk, but he put three tablespoons of sugar.

He did not like writing on napkins. Then you can not put anything together. It seemed to him stupid to say some of the people related to art, that they can only record everything on napkins. As if there is no paper. But he did not write on paper either. It seemed to him a waste of time. He always carried a laptop with him.

  He also made sketches for what he wrote about. With a pencil. Therefore, he also carried a notebook with him. Sometimes he did not have time to sketch what is happening and take a picture on the phone. Then at home, sitting at the table, he translated his photos into drawings. So he even liked more than doing drawings at once. Everything changed very quickly and managed to escape from it while he was making a sketch. He mainly painted streets of New York and people who got into the frame. But people went out schematically. He did not give them any details and did not draw a face.

  Today work was given with difficulty. While he forced himself to get out of bed, a quarter of an hour passed. Then he dressed carefully. And he left the house.

  On the street a crowd of people marching towards him overwhelmed him. What did each of these people think, where was he hurrying? These questions occupied him. He wanted for an hour to be transferred to someone's life, and then it's also easy to return to his own.

  And sometimes he did not leave the house and struggled with the desire to wrap himself in a soft and light blanket, put his head on the pillow and doze off. And that the soul was calm. The alarm tormented him sometimes, like there was no reason, but the alarm was.

  It was raining. Then it grew into a thunderstorm. But everything quickly ended and suddenly the sun came out. Before the rain, he managed to reach the cafe 969. Only he went inside as poured as from a bucket.

  It was an hour and a half since he came to the cafe. During this time he managed to write half a page. Further business in any way did not go. He ordered a kettle of green tea.

2

  Today we managed to get up only after noon. He woke often - and at seven o'clock, and at nine, but could not lift himself from the bed. Turn off the hot water.

 At breakfast he usually read articles from the magazine E, but now he had already re-read the old issues and the new one he did not buy. It was necessary to save literally every penny and this month was no exception. His work brought a small income. But he did not want to refuse it in favor of a more profitable one. He believed that it was much better to have the opportunity to do what he liked, rather than stick around all day in the office doing all kinds of nonsense and wasting his time.

  The day passed quickly and by the evening he already did not remember what he had spent. It seems he talked on the phone today with two friends and sent out the last of the paintings he wrote to the magazines of contemporary art, to the August issues. That's all classes for today. Well, he spent another hour in the park, where today it was cool enough and he froze, leaving in one sports suit without a jacket.

  A friend informed him that next week he was going to a neighboring city for work and that she had not been lately broken, so that he would meet only when he arrived, in the evening. Yes, he himself would be nice to get out somewhere for the weekend, but he did not postpone the travel enough money, so he will not go.

3

  The days passed very quickly. In summer it always happens. He treated it calmly. For the winter he bought a new warm down jacket with fur and thought that next winter the frost would not catch him off guard. Only now he did not climb into black jeans. Will have to buy new ones, and this costs around $ 50 for a couple of average quality. Those blacks cost him just this amount. He bought them in a huge shopping center in the north of the city and was quite pleased with them, good color, style, only they were not very pleasant to the body - the only drawback. At that time he was very thin and all the old jeans just hung on it.

  It was one of his entertainments to go to shopping centers. To this were added trips to the cinema and lunches in various inexpensive city cafes. All his friends worked on a standard schedule and they were not up for entertainment on weekdays. And on weekends he did not like to go anywhere, preferring either to sit at home or go to the park next to his house. So he was usually alone. But for him, loneliness was comfortable, he felt even better than himself in the company. This, from his childhood, distinguished him from other people.

  He also liked drawing. Although he did not always get it well. There are people who with indifference refer to something or someone to represent with the help of pencil and paper. And yet they have the skill to convey something quite accurately. He also had to develop this skill, but from this interest in the picture did not fade away, but even vice versa. In art shops, where he visited almost every month to buy canvas or paint, he was fascinated by all these materials, whether brushes or colored pencils, but everything, everything that was sold there. He wanted to immediately try out everything he saw there.

  If we talk about shops, besides art, it was inspired by the big bookshops, where besides the books there was also a music department. He immediately took the headphones and brought to the reader the first CD he liked. The sound of music carried his thoughts away from the space of the bookstore. He was immersed in memories or dreams.

  On the street was a real downpour. What was already for anybody not a bit is not surprising. Everyone has become accustomed to the rains for the first month of this summer.

4

  It's been two days since he wrote anything. I could not force myself. I watched James Bond and cartoons about extraterrestrial creatures. And I even missed a post on Twitter yesterday where he posted one of his drawings made with a pencil every day. He was horrified at the life of an ordinary office worker, who is obliged to work five to six days a week from morning till night without a break.

  All morning he spent with the doctor, and after arriving home a little bit of snack and went to bed.

  When he sat down to write something to him, it was not easy. The text did not flow from his head to paper. He seemed to have to squeeze out the words, it was like the process of squeezing out mayonnaise from an almost empty tube. It was necessary to press before you could take even a drop.

  He sat at the laptop only by six in the evening. The norm for him was a page of text a day and one drawing with a pencil for twitter. What was the basis of his future paintings. From these sketches he drew ideas for his canvases. For two hours he spent on sending out his works to various competitions and magazines. This month, he received a positive response in a magazine called a bullfighter. The text, according to its daily routine, was given three hours. Another four hours - to paint. He rarely observed the schedule. Previously, he lived without a schedule and until he could get used to the regulated daily routine. Often sat on the Internet and justified it by saying that he was drawing ideas for his book or for drawings. However, this was not the case.

  After writing half a page of text, he wanted to go out into the street. This happened very often. Only he began to work, as there were various reasons to escape from it. In the park next to his house, the old 1970's cinema was built. And he wanted to go, see how the repair work is moving. Cinema was one of his hobbies. The last time he went to the movies about two months ago on a documentary about the director and artist D, whose art he respected very much. It was thanks to this man nine years ago that he began to draw.

  Today, he posted on Twitter one of his recent drawings. In his idea, he had to draw a new drawing every day and that's it, and spread it out. But in recent days, relaxed.

  The sun and the singing birds outside the window gave him no peace. So I wanted to leave everything and go out. Once there he wants to look into any of the nearby stores to look for something. And then you want to eat and have to wander into a cafe. So it will be three hours and he will not write anything again.

  It occurred to him to draw a cat. In his manner to represent everything that is possible from different geometric figures. It turned out sometimes very bad. Perhaps, he thought, he should add text to the drawing - from the cloud, as is done in comics. Need to try. I wonder what will come of it.

5

  At the next table, it was heard: "shamoes mas halo ...", in which he did not know the language, "cha ma ma ma ee ..." - how much it was possible to fill the city with a foreign-speaking population, it was impossible to understand what is being said at the next table in Cafe, although this has long been not news. While he was recording his thoughts, the next table was freed. At once it became much quieter. Finally, you could concentrate on your thoughts. He made the order. There was a big potato in a country style, with curry sauce, a double burger with cheese and a little black coffee.

  "Order number twenty-four is ready, your order please." On the opposite window near which stood his table endlessly drove cars picking up their orders from the auto-window. The cafe was in demand. Unsurprisingly, it stood practically in the middle of the highway. The alarm clock rang. He already ate, finished his coffee.

  He felt himself good today. He spent one and a half weeks in bed. An unknown disease captured him completely, preventing him from functioning normally. He slept almost whole days. In the morning he got up, ate, went to bed, then again got up, dined. And only after dinner he hardly forced himself to get up. It was unbearable. He felt terrible. And today, it is unclear why, it all ended. It was just how to be born again. Feeling with nothing comparable.

  From today, he, as the weather was warm, decided to work outside the house. I decided to try writing in a cafe. And then it will probably work in the park.

  He could not believe how easily and how well he felt. And now in the cafe he sat full of energy and was as if in the thick of events. The stream of people swept alongside the river carrying with itself typical human experiences and cares. He sat as if on the edge of a volcano, within which life was boiling.

  This new life after almost two weeks of complete inaction, he liked so much that he decided to mark her with some small purchase and went to the mall on the way to the cafe. There, without thinking twice, he went to the bookstore, where he picked up a small sketchbook, but when paying at the checkout, the bank did not approve the operation. Well, it's not scary, he thought, and left the small book space in a huge crowd of shopping complex.

  The park smelt of something sweet. Perhaps this is one of the blossoming trees in July - a linden tree. The evening was still. Not a breeze. He lived and rejoiced in life.

  Sitting on the bench, he decided to continue writing. He literally did not leave his face.

  On the way home, he felt a new smell - someone in the park fried shish kebabs.

  He was also nearly hit by a bicyclist, who, like him, was dressed in all black.

  The day was full of events.

6

  He sat in the park and wrote another line holding A4 sheets on the magazine E. He did not take the laptop, it broke. Several pages were torn in the magazine. It turned out that the magazine began with advertising Cartier watches, and ended with advertising hours Bulgari. And who needs these endless expensive watches? These cars? I ask myself. And they released them with enviable constancy. He would borrow this constancy, releasing one picture after another.

   It was Thursday. He, as he promised himself, was working in the park today. Yesterday he made himself a day off. What he was doing, he could not remember.

  However, today, unlike yesterday, was quite productive. In the morning he went on business. He arrived home around ten in the morning. I slept until half past one. Having dined delicious khachapuri with ham and having drunk a whole mug of coffee, this time with milk, he began to cook vegetables - he decided to bake zucchini with minced meat. It turned out not bad.

  After dinner and cooking, he began, at last, for a new picture. He could not decide for a long time what to draw to him this time. The canvas was bought by him not of a large size, rectangular. He bought it for a specific drawing. There was a sketch of a scorpion. What, he knew before that he would draw it, it would be quite unexpected for him. He took the idea in the film. James Bond drank a cocktail, holding a live scorpion on his hand, and stood this test, having had time to brush it before he stung it. The difference with his drawing was that there the scorpion was sitting on a parquet consisting of colorful boards, and there was no James Bond at all.

  So, the scorpion as a result on the canvas, he did not paint. He terribly wanted to draw a portrait. He would certainly draw some famous person, if he had a well-executed photo of a professional photographer at his fingertips. But it was not. At hand was an advertising photo of Chanel perfume with a handsome European man. He then began to draw. He already had experience drawing a portrait. At that time, he tried himself in a face drawing with all the detailed drawings of his features for the first time. It turned out quite well. He executed the drawing on a rather large canvas, it seems 90 x 60 cm, with multicolored acrylic paints. He redrawn the portrait many times, adding more and more details to it. He also diversified facial features with abstract circular lines. It turned bright and fresh. Not typical.