And books about war. The elderly LOVE war.
In the photo she sent me it appeared that Bowie's right eye (his right, your left) was kind of milky white, an effect I managed to achieve only by emboldening the other (your right, his left) eye. I don't know why I made his nose look like the front end of a GTO, it's just something I needed to express through my ART. Yes, Bowie has the classic lines, rugged good looks, and boss leather interior of a drag-race era muscle car. Bowie also comes factory equipped with a warm, beating heart made of 100% love.
This one is for someone in New York who requested a drawing of something she wouldn't normally see on her weather-battered side of the continent. I give you: Palm trees with strings of lights wrapped around them, with mid-century flagstone wall across the street, via another lunch hour where I sat in my car looking like a pervert.
Actually, that's not true, I spent the first half of lunch sitting on a bench outside of Pierre Lafond's trying not to listen to two guys in running gear talk about annuities or whatever, while reading a Joshlyn Jackson book with a cover that yells PICK ME FOR YOUR NEXT BOOK CLUB, and has so far turned out to be an unexpected blend of girly and abusive/creepy/murderously girly. This is normally not my genre (oy, Gone Girl), but I feel like I ought to keep a broad range of reading just for work's sake, otherwise I'd spend my days thrusting dog-eared bestsellers and Monk DVDs into elderly patrons' hands.