The final page of a sketchbook is a peculiar geography. It is the end of one continent of ideas and sketches. Familiar paths mapped with notes and drawings and paintings and sketches and receipts from coffee houses and beer coasters from bars and other odd ephemera. Some pages contain recipes and calendar appointments and mailing addresses and other personal notes.
This book spans a decade. And ends with a sketch of a piano and violin concert at the Cathedral of St. John the Evangelist. The first pages is a crude Sharpie® marker sketch of a bus station in North Carolina.
Somedays a walk to the river is a remedy. Amid the ruckus of urban construction projects, the drone of downtown automobile traffic, and the labor of knowledge work, small urban spaces provide much needed havens. I grab a sketchbook, a cup of coffee and 30-minutes beside the river after an afternoon walk.
 The first time I read the term knowledge worker was in a book by Tom Peters. He may have acquired the term from Peter Drucker.
 There is a great coffeeshop, Colectivo, in the Third Ward near the Public Market that I like to visit.
Years ago, the practice of capturing a moment or event was accomplished with pencil and sketchbook.
For years have pushed art making away from me. Partly due to lack of space and consolidating my paintings into small sketchbooks. Then I replaced paint for pen and ink, and drew smaller images into Moleskines until my drawings disappeared into lines of characters trying to form poems…
Now, I want to start painting again…
(Image source via creativeinspiration: 472239364: artpixie: love letters and skypaints: http://www.flickr.com/photos/tinycastles/3912498882/)