I felt nostalgic as the fond memories of climbing the statue came flooding back to me. I remembered feeling the fear of falling off and yet how pleasing it was to rub my hands over the well worn, shiny areas that had years of polishing. I couldn't forget the slight pain of touching the hot metal that was heated by the sun.
It is comforting to see the statue still sitting in the same spot, and to know that as life moves on, that somethings still remain. It is kind of like a testament that 'I was here, and this meant something to me'.
This is a watercolor pencil drawing over pen and ink from my sketchbook, and for comparison, a photo I took for reference. For this sketch, I wasn't trying for realism, I was just playing with color and trying to work with the watercolor pencils. I wanted to experiment to see if I could leave the line, or if the water would smooth it all out. My dissatisfaction was that I hadn't left enough white in the highlighted areas of the statue. I tried to go over it with chalk pastel, and when that didn't work, I tried white out pen. But neither would bring back the white.