A short version:

The sketches that I do almost daily for the sketchblog, are in effect, a love letter to New York City. That is, if you understand that passionate love can sometimes straddle a fine line between itself and hate. True love has it’s periods of ennui, sickness, intimacy, forsaking, re-blooming, self-sacrifice, unadulterated highs, furtive thrills, perfect contentment, mad jealousy, secret languages, bad behavior, thin skins, low blows, morose mourning, utter delight, et cetera. So, I take my wee sketchbook everywhere with me, and more often than not, allow myself to be open to the muse of diverse and vertiginous humanity that surrounds me in the most dynamic city on Earth.