I've written about days when impromptu sketching feels like second nature - smooth as sailing through a conversation with an old friend, where every word is perfectly timed, and even more perfectly chosen... today was decidedly not one of those days. So be it. But it does make working on a personally imposed deadline a bit of a challenge. After struggling with colored pencils and water color in front of a display of handsome pigeons for a good hour, I abandoned ship and decided to relocate. As I passed through the invertebrates exhibit, I stalled in front of a case of coleoptera: beetles - jewel-toned, patterned, and pinned in an orderly arrangement worthy of a meticulous philatelist. Despite the rainbow before me, I took out a Micron and let gesture override adornment - thankfully, the result felt 100% better than my previous exercises that afternoon, and if I had had more time, I would have drawn every specimen on the wall. There's something so pleasingly mathmatic about drawing insects - like sketching architecture or bicycles - they are a perfectly orchestrated collaboration of geometic shapes - a spray of hinged line segments, anchored by some elaboration on the shape of a pill... and symetry - at least when viewed dorsally over the head of a pin - is king.