Still getting the rust off during a life drawing session a few months back.
2-20 min poses from life.
Graphite on wrapping paper (hence the wrinkles!) and just plain old ink on paper

Havent been to life drawing for a while now. Ended up going earlier this month to try and get the rust off! Most of these were done on wrapping paper, or craft paper in conte or marker. All of these were somewhere between 5-20 min poses. 

  

  

  

Some quick tree studies for the artist workout.

Last bit of airport sketches from the New Years travels.

Found these older pieces on the hard drive. Always liked how they turned out. Done when I first got my ipad pro.

Life drawing from a few weekends back. Short poses in conte and some pencils.

5 min    
  

5min
  

2-3min
  

3-5min
  

  2-3min
  

5min

2min

10min
  

Havent drawn from life in about 4 months, so decided to brush up a little. Here are some pieces from last weekend's short poses, mostly in black Conte.

3min
  

2min
  

1min

---continued from Part 1 https://www.artstation.com/misha/blog/mOPp/on-the-clock-inktober-2019-days-1-8---

and Part 2: https://www.artstation.com/misha/blog/DKMa/on-the-clock-inktober-2019-days-9-18

---ON THE CLOCK (continued)---

“I started hooking,” said Terry. She shifted a little on the park bench and re-crossed her gartered legs. Her leather mini-skirt climbed a little higher up her scrawny thighs and she tugged at the hem. Terry was a skinny kid and looked odd in her outfit, like she was playing grown-up. Pretending.

“You ever consider grandma?” I asked.

“Grandparents are both dead. The step-ones I don’t like,” she said, looking down at her pumps. They looked too big for her.

“So what are you going to do now, Terry?”

“Dunno.”

“Come back home maybe?”

She shook her head no. Harder than she needed to get the point across.

“What if I help you go back?”

The headshakes again.

“If you’re not careful your head’s going to come off.” That got the desired effect; she finally looked at me, puzzled but better than nothing.

“C’mon, Terry, is this really better?”

“It’s not so different.” She looked away again. So much for progress.

We sat a little longer in silence, watching the joggers steadily make their way up the hill in front of our bench. It didn’t look easy, but at least they were getting somewhere. I wasn’t. I was more of a treadmill guy. Terry went back to looking apathetically at her oversized fuck-me-shoes. She didn’t look too worried, she was on the clock. And so was I.

Her mother, Gina Sotlas, had hired me to find the missing girl. Gina’s husband was running for governor and a runaway step-daughter didn’t seem to be the sort of thing that his political enemies would neglect to inform the public of. Oh, of course she loved her only child and was deeply concerned.

I was concerned, too. It was good to have work again, but I was not in a situation I wanted to be in. Now that I had located Terry, I wasn’t sure what to do. I wasn’t going to force her to come back, she was 18 and that wasn’t in the contract. But, I didn’t feel comfortable letting her go on the way she had been. As I was thinking of contacting my employer and updating her on the situation, my phone rang.

“McGloin Investigations, David speaking.” If this gumshoe thing didn’t work out I could always pursue a secretarial position somewhere.

“Mr. McGloin?”

“Speaking.” I was good.

“My name is William Roberts,” The voice began hesitantly.

“Yes?”

“Do you know who I am?”

“Billy the Kid, right?”

“Excuse me?”

“Nevermind. I know who you are.”

“Have you found my step-daughter, yet?”

“Yes.”

There was a pause on the other end. Finally the Roberts cleared his throat.

“That’s good news. Where is she?”

“On the Westside.”

Another pause.

“Is she—? Nevermind. Bring her to 900 N. State. I’ll have an associate pick her up. When can you get her there?”

“That wasn’t in the job-description.”

“Pardon?”

“I don’t work for you, candidate Roberts. Your wife hired me to locate your daughter. I have done so. My work is done.”

Terry perked up and was now paying close attention to the conversation. She looked like a small, scared animal, ready to flee at any moment.

“Oh, I see. Don’t worry, Mr. McGloin, you will be compensated. Double your original fee.”

I thought about this for a second.

“Are you there, Mr. McGloin?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Just bring her to me,” he said and hung up.

“What did he say?” Asked Terry, panic creeping into her voice.

“He said he wanted to know if you were alright.”

“Why should he care all of a sudden?”

“He misses you?”

Headshakes. Even more violent this time.

“You sure you don’t want to go back?” I asked.

“No way,” she said and continued shaking.

“He says he’s sorry. Everything is going to be different this time.”

“Really?”

I nodded, feeling pretty shitty for lying to the kid, but not so shitty for moving closer to paying the rent.

“I don’t believe him.”

“Ok, fair enough. Want to grab something to eat? I always think better on a full stomach.”

She nodded, slowly.

“Variety’s the spice of life.”

She looked confused and then shook her head dismissively. I knew it was too good to be true.

We walked around a duck-filled pond, towards my car. I took Terry to a drive-thru and we picked up two cheeseburgers, which were promptly consumed in the parking lot. After satiating our hunger, I drove her to 900 State. Terry asked me where we were going and I told her I was going to consult a friend about her situation. The ‘associate’ turned out to be a guy named Alphonso.

“You’re still payin’ me, right?” Asked Terry.

“Yes. You’re still on the clock, don’t worry.” I didn’t.

.

.

.

“You ever end up finding her, McGloin?”

“Huh?”

“Terry. You ever find her?”

“Umm, no, no I didn’t,” I said. “I, ah, only knew her through pictures.” I pointed to the photos on the tabletop. “And those aren’t the prettiest ones.”

Phil looked me in the eye looking for answers. If he knew I lied he didn’t show it.

“You want to be the one tells her mother her daughter dead?” The low voice rolled into my ear.

I had my eyes locked on Phil, without breaking I announced that thankfully that was not my job.

“Enjoy yours, gentlemen,” I said. ”I’m considering a new occupation. Politics maybe.”

“Nah, you’re not a very good liar,” the voice rolled out again.

I told them both where they could go. Detective Campbell informed me that was a physical impossibility. Phil told me where I should shove my most prized anatomical possessions. 

They stared at me some more, then my lawyer came and chewed me out for saying too much. With prodding from the counselor, the detectives informed me that Alphonso was suspected of killing Terry, and I was suspected of killing him. After another half an hour they discovered that Alphonso met his end in a mob-related incident and, a little after midnight, I was released.

Alphonso and Terry went about being dead. Phil went home to his family, while Detective Campbell went about practicing his Darth Vader impression. Sgt. Cueball went on listening to his shitty music, enjoying his happy moment. The future governor Roberts went back to blaming poverty for the growing crime problem in this city, while Gina Sotlas went on crying over her baby-girl. My ex went on chewing on the back of my brain. And I went to get the bitter taste out of my mouth with some scotch.

THE END

And that's it! A little behind schedule and a little rough, but happy to have seen it through to the end. Thanks for reading.

Part 1: https://www.artstation.com/misha/blog/mOPp/on-the-clock-inktober-2019-days-1-8

Part 2: https://www.artstation.com/misha/blog/DKMa/on-the-clock-inktober-2019-days-9-18