Every morning, bleary-eyed, I make myself a flat white on my espresso machine. It’s a daily ritual that makes the cliché “I could do it in my sleep” nearly true.
Since building a regular drawing practice, I’ve found myself noticing things in a new way. Like the way the machine curves in some places, but not in others. The interesting foreshortening of the circular forms when I look at them from the angle I usually do.
I feel compelled to sketch it, to quickly capture this tactile form in the hazy fog of my pre-coffee brain.
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