A European Sketchbook: Part 1
Images from my sketchbook and a short story about climbing a mountain.
On October 16th I climbed Domogledul Mic, one of the many mountain peaks around Băile Herculane, Romania. Normally I’d be more selective with my phrasing, choosing to say I “hiked” a mountain. However, considering the 5 hours spent ascending and descending 3000 feet, and especially the final lengthy rocky section requiring all fours, I feel comfortable calling this AllTrails “Hard” rated route a low tier “climb”.
Though I’ve done some hiking in the recent past this trail caught me off guard. For almost the entire time that I was moving, I had to be actively focused on the task at hand: one foot in front of the other navigating tough terrain. The minute my mind wandered, my feet would slip out from under me, and twice I found myself unceremoniously one with the ground. I entered this trance-like state, not a thoughtless one, but a focused rhythm — aware of the steep slopes around me, yet not preoccupied with them. It seems that few things get my undivided attention these days, and that level of presence felt foreign and challenging, but rewarding and filled with joy.
As I look back on my 40 days in Europe, I see a distinctly parallel pattern. I experienced a freedom of thought on this trip that I hadn’t for some time, and I’m very grateful for it. So many places and characters left a distinct and lasting impact on me as I moved from one to the next: an American artist in Cluj, an antique-dealing eccentric in Băile Herculane, kind and generous family and friends everywhere I found them…
During my third day on the continent I fumbled my way through purchasing a sketchbook and some supplies at an art store where the dear worker didn’t speak a word of English, nor I a (useful) word of Hungarian. Stopping to sketch became an excuse to linger, attempting to both look and see. Those moments stick with me — a grateful sense that I was exactly where I was supposed to be. Here I want to chronologically highlight just a few of the sketches I made on the other side of the ocean. I will do a second retrospective on the latter half of the book when it’s done to see how they compare, and maybe do some light editing/grouping.
9/27: two of the first sketches. Budapest was lovely, a city I quickly reconnected with and deeply enjoyed wandering around.
10/4 (left) & 10/8 (right): I’ve returned to this little sketch of Oradea along the Crișul Repede River a few times. I often found myself sketching windows, doorways, and shadows — like in Cluj (right), thinking about the eyes that surrounded me, wondering how many eras they’ve seen.
10/13: my Danube sketches were all very quick, maybe it was something about the constant movement of the water…
10/14: from a train.
10/15: I wrote a first of several full pages notes/lists. This one was labeled “Ideas/Concepts So Far”, and I’ve transcribed it as my handwriting is not legible to most eyes.
The mighty Danube, water in light/dark, shadows and light
Provincial towns, speed of life, “American” behaviors, greetings and efficiency
Unexpected interactions — small world — did I want to escape it?
AHVD project, interesting — two light sources, eternal and human, surrealism
Nature + concrete, brutalism, things left over, decay
Proximity to war yet life seems eerily unchanged to an outsider
Living somewhere that “doesn’t matter” on a global scale
Using space in a different way, ancient facades but modern interiors
Needing to slow down, preoccupation with movement and progress
10/16: A first reflection on my scramble up to the peak of the smaller Domogled.
10/21: Made this little sketch of Oradea while on the train westward to Italy. I quite like the look of a quick sketch in the same way that I like loose and abstract paintings over extremely realistic ones. Something about bold decisive marks…I feel it captures something more of the essence, emotion…
10/23: Made while sitting in the Piazza del Campo in Siena. It’s not a great sketch, but I was struck by each of the buildings looming over the square, each with its own awning, each with its own offering to the crowds.
10/24: I was particularly looking forward to seeing the Tuscan Cypress trees and they did not disappoint (nor did the pines, or the endless vineyard lines). I was fascinated by how dramatically they would sway in the wind
10/25: A reflection on the layers of the San Siro stadium in Milan. It’s an environment unlike American sports that I’ve been to. Surrounded by some 70,000–75,000 people, a majority of whom live and die by the result of that weekend’s game, the pull of the crowd is intoxicating, and the stadium feels monumental.
10/26: Another Tuscan landscape, this little sketch shows Badia di Passignano, a historic abbey. Walking around this town and nearby Greve in Chianti, I noted one of the senses that I previously had not been attentive to — the smell of rosemary and mint growing on the side of the path.
10/27 (left) & 10/28 (right): These two were done in Florence. Ponte Vecchio on the left and a reflection on a painting I saw in a restaurant on the right. I enjoyed Florence very much — history, architecture, antique stores, restaurants — and it felt big enough to have “modern life” too. Il Conventino was a great place to sketch, a former convent turned into an art space & cafe filled with chatting locals and studying students.
10/29: The last interesting sketch in my book was of this alleyway in Vernazza, one of the towns that make up Cinque Terre.
As peaceful and serene as the peak was, I inevitably had to make my way back down Domogled. The path down was even more challenging than the path up, another surprise. The slope was so steep and the ground so loose that my focus truly couldn’t break until I made it back down to the road, at which point my knees and my mind were equally exhausted from the little adventure I had put them through.
I’ve spent a significant amount of time reflecting on my experiences since I returned — it’s been very difficult for me to return to ‘normal life’. I’m not entirely sure if I ever will, or need to. I’m pushing myself to fill the rest of the sketchbook with drawings from photos and memories. I’ve started to turn a few of the images and ideas into paintings, but that will take some time. May even have some drawings in the mix, who knows.
Between the climb, the sketches, the moments of busyness and stillness, the light and dark of cities and landscapes, the characters I met along the way — it strikes me that attention can be a form of gratitude, for the time we have to spend as much as the places and people we have the opportunity to spend it with.
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