“Saturday Night in a Bar” 20 × 16 inches, Crayon on toned paper
This is a handmade, original work of art NOT A PRINT and NOT AI GENERATED
FREE SHIPPING Shipping takes 3–4 Weeks This ships from San Carlos, California (The San Francisco Bay Area). I use UPS and sometimes US Post.
Being an older guy in a bar or coffee shop can set off two conversations in my head. Part of me enjoys the visual pleasure of the younger crowd. It brings back memories, and I like being around it. Another part feels like a tourist, or maybe an alien. I can understand the rough outlines of what’s happening, but some of the details escape me. I can relate, and I also wish I were more a part of it all.
I like stopping at a bar now and then for a shot and a beer. I like talking to whoever I’m with. But put a television in front of me and I can’t look away. When someone takes out a cell phone, I cringe, even though I’m just as attached to mine. I’m hardly immune to the appeal of a drink either. There’s a contradiction in being annoyed by habits I recognize in myself.
I don’t necessarily want to look at the pictures on your phone, even the nudes. Yet when I see a group huddled around a screen, I can’t help wondering what they’re looking at. It starts to feel almost sociological. I’m curious, nostalgic, a little curmudgeonly, and sometimes feel like a character in a Geico commercial. I know people in bars can be a bit drunk and stupid. I’m still choosing to be there.
In the drawing, I occupy most of the foreground, with my cheek resting on one hand and a glass in the other. Behind me, three people gather around a phone. Their shared attention contrasts with my position closer to the viewer. We’re in the same room, but involved in different parts of the evening.
“Saturday Night in a Bar” 20 × 16 inches, Crayon on toned paper
This is a handmade, original work of art NOT A PRINT and NOT AI GENERATED
FREE SHIPPING Shipping takes 3–4 Weeks This ships from San Carlos, California (The San Francisco Bay Area). I use UPS and sometimes US Post.
Being an older guy in a bar or coffee shop can set off two conversations in my head. Part of me enjoys the visual pleasure of the younger crowd. It brings back memories, and I like being around it. Another part feels like a tourist, or maybe an alien. I can understand the rough outlines of what’s happening, but some of the details escape me. I can relate, and I also wish I were more a part of it all.
I like stopping at a bar now and then for a shot and a beer. I like talking to whoever I’m with. But put a television in front of me and I can’t look away. When someone takes out a cell phone, I cringe, even though I’m just as attached to mine. I’m hardly immune to the appeal of a drink either. There’s a contradiction in being annoyed by habits I recognize in myself.
I don’t necessarily want to look at the pictures on your phone, even the nudes. Yet when I see a group huddled around a screen, I can’t help wondering what they’re looking at. It starts to feel almost sociological. I’m curious, nostalgic, a little curmudgeonly, and sometimes feel like a character in a Geico commercial. I know people in bars can be a bit drunk and stupid. I’m still choosing to be there.
In the drawing, I occupy most of the foreground, with my cheek resting on one hand and a glass in the other. Behind me, three people gather around a phone. Their shared attention contrasts with my position closer to the viewer. We’re in the same room, but involved in different parts of the evening.
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