My latest pop-realism drawing of a “Vintage Ward's COMET Sled” is 35.5” W by 56” T, created with graphite and Prismacolor pencil on gallery paper. It captures a classic single-plank, retro graphics, with worn blue lettering and modernistic steering. Shown from above, the detailed textures of well-used wood and metal bring the sled’s history and winter memories to life. This piece continues my exploration of highly detailed drawings, focusing on familiar objects rendered with precise observation and a quiet sense of nostalgia from my childhood growing up in Algonac, Michigan, on the St. Clair River.
From the Artist
The Ward’s COMET was an amazing sled. It was the perfect combination of bad-ass graphics, pressed metal fairings, and tubular steel steering bars.
Most sleds had red runners, maybe even blue, but this rocketship had silver. I remember pushing on the steering with my feet, bending that front end as I whipped around one of the river spiles, only to hit a hunk of ice under the snow and being thrown off, landing on my butt and sliding for what seemed like ever. Sometimes we'd hear the ice crack beneath us as everyone scrambled toward the nearest dock.
A little scary. Lots of excitement. That's the kind of history I love drawing. That’s the memory this sled holds.
My latest pop-realism drawing of a “Vintage Ward's COMET Sled” is 35.5” W by 56” T, created with graphite and Prismacolor pencil on gallery paper. It captures a classic single-plank, retro graphics, with worn blue lettering and modernistic steering. Shown from above, the detailed textures of well-used wood and metal bring the sled’s history and winter memories to life. This piece continues my exploration of highly detailed drawings, focusing on familiar objects rendered with precise observation and a quiet sense of nostalgia from my childhood growing up in Algonac, Michigan, on the St. Clair River.
From the Artist
The Ward’s COMET was an amazing sled. It was the perfect combination of bad-ass graphics, pressed metal fairings, and tubular steel steering bars.
Most sleds had red runners, maybe even blue, but this rocketship had silver. I remember pushing on the steering with my feet, bending that front end as I whipped around one of the river spiles, only to hit a hunk of ice under the snow and being thrown off, landing on my butt and sliding for what seemed like ever. Sometimes we'd hear the ice crack beneath us as everyone scrambled toward the nearest dock.
A little scary. Lots of excitement. That's the kind of history I love drawing. That’s the memory this sled holds.
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