I could feel my body warming up as I biked up Townsend St. after getting off the 6am train to San Francisco. The city was just starting to wake up at 7:15 when I arrived, perfect time to avoid the onset of taxis that were sure to flood the streets at 7:30 for rush hour. It was freezing cold that December morning, my drawing board slung over my back, breath fogging up my glasses as I raced up Van Ness to get to my intimidating drawing class.I started to loose my breath, sucking in the thick cold air was burning my chest as I pumped the pedals up the hill to the warehouse building. I ran into the building with three minutes to spare, always racing against the clock. Wiped off the sweat from my brow, unloaded my drawing board from the sling back bag and started preparing my charcoal. I had been doing this for three long months; two hour commute each way to school, 12-14 hour days and homework for hours over the weekend and risking life and limb biking everywhere in San Francisco. I’d always be thinking about the challenging day ahead of me, whose work I’d be staring at in part envy part amazement. This morning was different. Read More…
Charcoal on Paper 18 x 24
