When I started this drawing, this blossom was drawn from life. Good thing I remembered to take photos of it. Colored pencil drawings always take a lot of time for me. I agonize over color combinations and whether or not I have the right pencil. And when I do find the right pencil, rest assured that when I'm left with nothing but a little nubbin, the store doesn't have that color in stock. And if they do, the lead isn't straight.

Yes, I am picky about my lead. It has to be centered on both ends, preferably with the wooden shaft of the pencil not halved. So even if I come across a dozen pencils in the display at the art store, I look through all of them. If I'm lucky, one or two will actually be centered. Even my husband knows how to do this. We are a much more efficient team going through the colored pencil display, our fists prickling with pencils being inspected from both ends. Honestly, this isn't some weird eccentricity on my part. The leads break less when they're centered.

Then of course, there is layering. I love the zen aspect of trying to make thin glazes of color. It's similar to watercolor in that respect. The pencil moves slowly across the page leaving a bloom of color in its wake. Since I'm using a darker paper, I have to use a lot of white in a "reverse grisaille" process so that lighter colors don't lose their punch. Then there is the constant and necessary pauses to sharpen the pencil into a fine point. Somehow I love these small rituals. I may sometimes complain about how long a piece takes, but I secretly love the slow pace of it all.