Today I was mostly, trapped in permanent twilight inside The Venetian and Caesars Palace.
Gondolas at twilight and opera at 11am.
Endlessly circling to find a way out of Caesar’s Palace, I eventually gave up and sketched this man having a meltdown
One final casino sketch before bed
One of the first things you see when you hit the tarmac at McCarran airport is the sheer, golden sheen of the Mandalay Bay hotel, looming over the jet black pyramid of the Luxor.
Normally I would have my sketchbook out, desperately putting down some lines, but right then, it’s too sobering. It would be impossible to be here without mentioning and feeling for the people involved in, and impacted by the recent mass shooting.
Over the next week, I’ll try to capture Vegas as I see it.
I circle through sprawling, dim lit Casinos and out into the blinding sunshine, face to two face with two women in leather hot pants, brandishing whips. It’s pretty clear that life in Sin City, goes on.
I start with Paris, which I last sketched in the flesh in 2014. Midway, a couple ask me to take their picture. I do.
Then on to the Bellagio fountains, where Fleetwood Mac and Phil Collins pound out to a techno beat.
The fountains spring into action to the tune of ‘Gad bless Amer-i-caw’ and I have 15 minutes to sketch them.
Midway, a man asks if he can take a picture. Now this is not unusual. I stood sketching at the top of Gornergrat mountain in Switzerland, whilst literally, a train load of tourists shoved long lensed cameras between me and my page, some ruthlessly diving in, others smiling and gesticulating thanks. I don’t usually mind and if someone asks, I usually let them, but my body thinks it’s 1:30am, I’m tired, and I don’t fancy it. ‘I’d rather you didn’t’ I say politely, he tries again, I say the same. He walks around the other side of me and tries again (bear in mind I have only 15 minutes) ‘no’ I say, ‘but it’s for me’ he says. I raise an eyebrow and carry on sketching.
It’s 7pm in Vegas, but my body thinks it’s 3am. I’m standing alone on the strip in Las Vegas, sketching the iconic Flamingo. Midway, a man asks me if I might have any idea where the Uber pick up point is. It’s time to sleep.
Just waiting for my flight to Las Vegas. It’s way to early for sketching all that perspective!
I’ve also discovered inktober is a great way to avoid spending money at airports.
Vintage 2006
I last visited Coire Gabhail (The Lost Valley) on a tranquil day in May 2006. Following directions my brother had scribbled on a scrap of paper, we arrived at a deserted car park as the mist silently lifted from the Glen.
Looking towards A’Chailleach
Up to that point, drawing was just something I did to pass time when I visited my parents at Christmas. I had a small, slightly weird collection of pencil ‘still lives’ – odd shoes, misshapen candles, a Swedish Christmas gnome etc. Sometimes I’d bring a sketch pad and pencil on holiday, but it generally stayed unused in my bag. However, this time, it was so quiet that I plucked up courage, pulled out my pad and captured the view.
Eleven years later, I’ve overcome my shyness of sketching in public and discovered the joy of pen, watercolour and properly bound sketchbooks. So, armed with Google maps, I was desperate to recreate this special moment.
Sadly, the first attempt had to be aborted, as all the car parks were full of tour buses, tripods and people flying drones. The Lost Valley, it appeared, was no longer quite so lost. Not a wasted journey though, we parked further up the pass and walked the path to Buachaille Etive Beag. Time for a quick sketch looking towards A’Chailleach, shrouded in shadow, whilst we basked in the sunshine.
Castle Campbell, previously know as Castle Gloom
Oban
That evening, seduced by fish and chips in Oban, I persuaded my ever patient partner that it would be worth making a second attempt the next day. With an early start from Dollar, a belly full of coffee and gorgeous weather, the mission was accomplished before lunch, I even managed a bracing dip in the icy stream below the valley.
The Lost Valley
Glenfinnan Viaduct
I found out later, that there is a grim irony in setting out from the shadows of Castle Campbell in Dollar to The Lost Valley. In February 1692, this idyllic place provided one of the escape routes for the MacDonald clan during the brutal massacre of Glencoe by the Campbell soldiers, under the orders of William of Orange.
Finally (and slightly inappropriately after that serious note) in a blatant attempt to get more hits on my blog, the evening ended at the Glennfinnan viaduct, made famous in the Harry Potter films and now featured on the Scottish £10 note.
The Wallace Monument
To make up for that, I also sketched the Wallace monument.
Arthurs Seat was damp and so was mine, after sitting in a puddle sketching this.
Dunsapie Loch and Portobello. It may look peaceful, but Arthurs Seat behind me was so busy there was even a busker entertaining the crowds.
Evening view from Calton Hill
Calton Hill from near St Anthony’s Chapel ruins
Calton Hill from the Iron Duke
In Waterstones, I looked on with envy at the people languishing in the premium, bay window tables. Still, I did manage to wedge myself between a smaller window, the staircase and a discretely placed rodent trap to sketch the castle.
That view was wasted on him
Edinburgh castle
Wedged in the window sill
Great museum with loads to see, including the Millenium clock. When it strikes the hour, Bach blares through hidden speakers and this 20th Century dedication to human suffering becomes a strange technicolour, rotating beast.
Edinburgh university from the roof
The Millennium clock – when death started swinging gleefully on the pendulum, I just had to sketch it!
Sunny and *not* raining at the same time
The Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art ‘2’, currently showing the ‘True to life’ exhibition. Well worth a visit.
All images © Claire Moore and cmoorelife, 2017
Washington services on the A1(M) is a bleak, lonely place. I made the six hour drive from Brighton to enjoy a junk food dinner and fulfill a personal dream of sketching the motorway from a creepy footbridge. Both lived up to expectations.
Goumet dinning at the Washington Travelodge
7:30am on the A1(M)
Coincidentally, just up the road is Antony Gormley’s Angel of the North. It may be of the most viewed pieces of art in the world, but on this sunny Sunday morning, there was just me, and a man releasing his pigeons for their first flight home.
A satnav haunting
My next stop was Lindisfarne Castle, but the satnav led me astray, so I overshot the view I was looking for, ending up on the causeway to Holy Island. Time for a sketch in the drizzle, with one eye nervously on the tide, listening to Sue Perkins on Desert Island Discs. I assume this is the hut you have to break into when the sea covers the road.
After all that lapping water, I needed a toilet stop, but the satnav struck again at the nearby Barn and Beal. “Slide right! Slide right!” She shouted from my pocket. One flush and several startled patrons later and I was on the road to Portobello, a lovely coastal suburb of Edinburgh.
You have arrived at your destination, all is forgiven
A damp and peaceful evening on Portobello beach
cmoorelife 