Jocelyn Curry

When I turned 11 my birthday gift from Mom and Dad was a Samsonite Train Case. Come summer, we were to travel to Casablanca, Morocco to live. My new white train case with its pale pink, quilted satin lining represented my independence from my parents, my own minute, portable storage space. 

So it was especially poignant to me one morning a few weeks ago when one Drawing Group member presented us with a still life featuring her mother's train case from the 1940's and a pair of olive green gloves. We nostalgically told each other train case stories, describing our own beloved ones to one another before beginning to draw this one from the 1940's:

Where did the gloves go? Drawing the train case provided various challenges. Capturing the perspective (very nicely done) overwhelmed one member so that she unconsciously omitted the green gloves. See how visual information can be edited out by our brain/eye/hand processes?

The daughter of the train case owner wanted to do a pen and ink sketch with added water for a black and white drawing. This one would be right at home in The New Yorker.  

The colored version of the train case. We in the Drawing Group are all working on a looser watercolor approach in our sketches.

Here is my train case sketch with the drape that was used around it.

My own train case is still in my mom's possession. It no longer travels on trains, but I'm thinking of reclaiming it and taking it on a trip via Amtrak. Being built to withstand many years of use, it served as a handy seat in many an airport and possibly in a few train stations, too.