Sketchbook from Valencia

Last week, I took the week off from ... everything. I met one of my best friends in the world in Valencia, Spain. He was singing with his chorus as a part of the Gay Games. I was along for the ride.

In anticipation of the trip, I bought myself a small, lightweight sketchbook that can fit in the bag in which I store my markers. I wanted to do some plein air sketching, to capture those details and vistas that always interest me but that I rarely take the time to render.

I was struck, in Valencia, by the sheer age of the place. I trod stones that had been under feet for centuries. The cathedral, a stone's throw from where I stayed, was first started in the year 1283. Every time I turned a corner, I half expected to find the building to be merely a facade, like a movie set.

As I often am in new places, I was struck by the small details. The intricate patterns of the balcony railing. The fantastical animals, people, and angels, crafted into the architecture of the buildings. The fact that the trees in the public parks all seemed to bear oranges.

The very first thing I applied my pencil to capture was a public water fountain. I thought it was inoperable, until I watched locals step on the proper spot to start water pouring from the putti's mouth. Later that day, another fountain surprised me as I wandered through the streets: more complete putti, bearing a clam shell on his head.

Mid-morning on my second day in the city, I sat in the plaza by the cathedral and tried to capture the repeating patterns of its colonnade.

The balcony of our AirBNB was my favorite room in the place. Every day I sat out there watching the people on the street below and enjoying the feel of the Spanish sun and breeze. I tried to capture my view from there.

While my friend was rehearsing, I made my way to La Lonja de la Seda, the Silk Exchange. This series of buildings, built between 1482 and 1533 were marvelous. I stepped inside and felt both small (in a good way) and full. The spaces were somehow both simple and breathtaking, and the resonance of their age gave me goosebumps.

None of these renderings -- whether my pencil or the phone's camera -- do justice to their subjects. And none of them were as special as a full week spent with one of my beloveds.

What details are you noticing, friends? And how can you find some time to connect with a beloved?