Last April, Golf Digest sent me down to Augusta Ga. to take in the Masters Golf Tournament. Spent a week down there wandering around with a sketchbook, a bad hat and a press pass . Apparently every year the magazine sends an illustrator or artist and a guest writer to record his/her observations from the unique perspective of a socially stunted outsider.
Also, Jeffery Smith and Mark Ulriksen had the gig the two years before and did extraordinary work, so in terms of precedent and artistic standards, you're kind of in a tough spot .
Here are some of the results ,published in the current Masters Preview Issue and online. The Art Director at Golf Digest is Mr. Ken DeLago.
The woman above was drawn on the course while I snuck sideways looks through my sunglasses. Tried to do a better version once I got home but this sketchbook drawing was the best I could manage. I'm not sure what she was sitting on, but I want one.
below and above: Some little on-location drawings
done while hunched over in an official folding green Masters chair. Other ideas were scribbled down and finished at home in an entirely different chair.
Some of the local members are given a green outfit and the authority to direct pedestrian course traffic. They are actually all very nice and this is the greatest day of their lives.
Am not sure what this guy does when he needs to pee.
I think he was wondering the same thing while I drew him.
On the second day of the tournament a actual deer got loose on the course which meant that it must have scaled a twenty foot high fence . The idea of any unsanctioned wildlife actually breaking IN to this ultra high-security compound was very disconcerting to all concerned. Some Georgia troopers lost their job.
The deer was corralled and quickly copyrighted.
A voracious hoard of arboreal international media descend on every player as he comes off the course.
Some of them are out of perspective due to jet lag.
What started as a visual pun of a famous golf hole somehow morphed into a disturbing portrait of a family of winged southern golfing nudists.
The legendary sports writer Dan Jenkins. Attending his 60th straight Masters, he is the grand patriarch of the house where the writers and guests stay . He subsists entirely on Honeybaked hams, which at his insistence are the only protein available for the entire week. The Editors had me patch in a can of original Coke for the published version, saying that the man had never touched a Diet Coke in his life.
Did around twenty five drawings for the project- these are a few of them, thanks for scrolling through. Whoever's been chosen for this year's tournament had better be prepared for that cretin on the right (above). He's loud, he's at every hole, and he'll haunt your dreams.
Here's something for the front page of the NY Times Sunday Review, to accompany a conversation between Gail Collins and David Brooks. With these quick turnaround gigs, the scramble for reference can be nerve wracking and time consuming.
So it's always an entertaining respite to google the word "santorum" and be enlightened once again.
The AD and Designer here is Aviva Michaelov.