Skip to main content

What does a rose look like?

How to draw an owl is a post by the author, entrepreneur, and marketing extraordinaire Seth Godin that got me thinking about how often I wonder about how to  draw roses. They are so beautiful. Everyone goes crazy for them. People obsess over them and they get poems and songs written about their delicate beauty. A whole holiday is practically devoted to them.  They are so omniscient that they are actually not my favourite flower.  There are just too many cartoonish versions of them to like that much.  However, every once in a while, I get the pleasure of coming across one in a natural setting and they wow me once again.

I have tried drawing roses many many times over the years.  I'm not an artist, but still, I usually am able to draw a roughly drawn facsimile of most things, just not roses.  What do they really look like? I get too focused on drawing each petal, and can't seem to draw the petals all together. What does a rose consist of?  I could draw a line in a circle and another one and another one after that, but would it be a rose? I could even trace an artist's sketch of one and I might not really understand or convey the underlining principle of roses. How about you? Do you know how to draw a rose?

This is not a rose, but some other kind of flower, I could not draw it either.  Flowers are so tricky.
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A Small Craft

I accompanied my mother-in-law to an appointment this week. On the paper, preparing her for the appointment, it invited her bring along something to read or a small craft. As soon as I heard about this invitation to bring a small craft into an otherwise austere waiting area, my mind started to do bouncing somersaults in many different directions. Googly eyes? Glue gun? Feathers? Play clay? Friendship braclets?
4 comments
Read more

Bringing her back

 As the first anniversary finally passed, I exhaled.  The sadness still nibbled away at the edges, but not clawing deep into my chest like it had been with varying degrees of ferocity in the twelve months previously.  She died in early summer, so I plunged into ocean and lakes and ate fruit straight from the plant.  The grief became softer, the folk songs carried me along in the potato patch we planted in therapy. But then, I started to miss her.  The deep grief kept her so close and now as the pressure eased, so did her presence.  I held my breath and decided to be really sad this morning just to see her face.  To sit in her prescence.  My breath became jagged as I cried for her, for us.   This Taylor Swift cover  by Marc Maron broke me right open this morning.  Here's to staying broken open enough to keep your loved ones close. And then, I walked into her garden. The garden she envisionied, planted over and over and still pre...
Post a Comment
Read more

The words coming out of my mouth

  These days I wear a mask. I don't wear a mask all of the time, only when I am indoors or unavoidably up close with people who I don't usually interact with.  I wear one when I am ordering things, or buying things or attempting to enjoy some form of public entertainment.  I cannot rely on reading others lips. My lips are hidden. We ask each other to repeat.  We move our eyes or our whole heads to try and enunciate more clearly.  I say fewer words, more carefully chosen words behind the mask. Sometimes that is helpful, sometimes that just causes more confusion. I walked into the woods. I did not need a mask.  I only saw a few other people and they were distanced. Masks were unnecessary. After so much talking and not talking and avoiding talking out loud I am forced to examine when I speak and when I choose not to. This is not a bad thing since I can be an insufferable chatter box, just a new thing for my brain to adjust itself to. When I am not standing aro...
2 comments
Read more