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        <title>My Father's Hand via MedWorm.com</title>
        <description>MedWorm.com provides a medical RSS filtering service. Over 5000 RSS medical sources are combined and output via different filters. This feed contains the latest items from the 'My Father's Hand' source.</description>
        <link><![CDATA[http://www.medworm.com/rss/search.php?qu=My+Father%27s+Hand&t=My+Father%27s+Hand&s=Search&f=source]]></link>
        <lastBuildDate>Sat, 16 Aug 2008 14:45:24 +0100</lastBuildDate>
        <item>
            <title>Moving to wordpress</title>
            <link>http://myfathershand.blogspot.com/2008/05/moving-to-wordpress.html</link>
            <description>I have not updated this blog in some time, but have decided to continue with periodic updates on Wordpress. Myfathershand.com will still be the current URL, but myfathershand.blogspot will become inactive and serve as an archive for those who have not updated their linking information.Please be aware that comments to the archive will no longer be accepted. You will need to make them on the Wordpress site, located at myfathershand.com. (Source: My Father's Hand)</description>
            <author>My Father's Hand</author>
            <type>blogs</type>
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            <pubDate>Sat, 24 May 2008 00:25:00 +0100</pubDate>
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            <title>Book</title>
            <link>http://myfathershand.blogspot.com/2007/09/book.html</link>
            <description>.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #ffffff; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }  Book, originally uploaded by Living in Monrovia.     3 x 5, pencil on paper (Source: My Father's Hand)</description>
            <author>My Father's Hand</author>
            <type>blogs</type>
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            <pubDate>Tue, 11 Sep 2007 02:53:00 +0100</pubDate>
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            <title>Red tie</title>
            <link>http://myfathershand.blogspot.com/2007/09/red-tie.html</link>
            <description>.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #ffffff; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }  Red Tie, originally uploaded by Living in Monrovia.     3 x 5, pencil with wash (Source: My Father's Hand)</description>
            <author>My Father's Hand</author>
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            <pubDate>Sun, 09 Sep 2007 04:19:00 +0100</pubDate>
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            <title>The end of the beginning</title>
            <link>http://myfathershand.blogspot.com/2007/09/end-of-beginning.html</link>
            <description>I started this blog with the idea that I would give the world a little of my father's talent, one that he kept hidden away, and write about him a little, as a way of getting to know him.I have done that; I have started with the ending, an ending I saw coming from many thousands of seconds from now. My thoughts live in seconds, not minutes or hours. They thrash about before making it to the page, before my fingers tap, tap, tap so lightly to engage the current that carries their signal to the screen, and—tap—through cables and ether to yours. But this ending, that of my father's life, was an eon within a second. An achingly short moment that will last forever in my mind. And so, it saddens me to say that this beginning of his ending is now over. My father passed away on September 1st, shortly after 9 a.m.He had grown ever distant, depending on my mother's care, rarely speaking, but existing as a monument to his own life, a mystery and an icon in the lives of his family, a face turning away, towards something only he could see, a hand that once expressed desire through lines, now clutching a blanket. He was my father, yet I hardly knew him. He is the greatest unsolved mystery in my life, and I know not what to do with him, except give him to you, here, on the page. I have clues, through writings and drawings, of what he really felt about a life that changed abruptly at the close of the Viet Nam war. It was the end of the largest chapter of his life, and he closed the cover to the contents within, ciphering quiet secrets at the end of his pen. Today, I open a Mead notebook, dated 1969. I want to find something of him in the quoted material he obsessively wrote down. He would not dare to write his own thoughts, but in copying down feelings and thoughts he could attribute to others, he may just be revealing some of himself. And now, as I read these passages again, I stumble and stop, because I can hear him speaking to me:&quot;We like to figure things out and make them come out right.&quot; (Source: My Father's Hand)</description>
            <author>My Father's Hand</author>
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            <pubDate>Sat, 08 Sep 2007 07:25:00 +0100</pubDate>
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            <title>Book of drawings</title>
            <link>http://myfathershand.blogspot.com/2007/06/book-of-drawings.html</link>
            <description>I am considering making a book of my father's drawings, or a book of this blog available for purchase as through Blurb. Anyone with an interest or ideas for this, please leave a comment. Thank you! (Source: My Father's Hand)</description>
            <author>My Father's Hand</author>
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            <pubDate>Mon, 25 Jun 2007 06:55:00 +0100</pubDate>
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            <title>Closed</title>
            <link>http://myfathershand.blogspot.com/2007/06/closed.html</link>
            <description>.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #ffffff; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }		CLOSED, originally uploaded by Living in Monrovia.					Here is a photo I took of one of the file drawers of my father's. He obsessively cut out images from magazines and categorized them according to what would make the most sense in terms of a reference for figure drawing. I haven't counted how many folders he has, but I wouldn't be surprised if the number topped 100. (Source: My Father's Hand)</description>
            <author>My Father's Hand</author>
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            <pubDate>Fri, 22 Jun 2007 15:58:00 +0100</pubDate>
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            <title>Knee</title>
            <link>http://myfathershand.blogspot.com/2007/03/knee.html</link>
            <description>.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #ffffff; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }  Knee, originally uploaded by Living in Monrovia.     Just a little shading is all you need...3 x 5, pencil on paper. (Source: My Father's Hand)</description>
            <author>My Father's Hand</author>
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            <pubDate>Wed, 14 Mar 2007 01:30:00 +0100</pubDate>
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            <title>Flirt</title>
            <link>http://myfathershand.blogspot.com/2007/03/flirt.html</link>
            <description>.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #ffffff; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }  Flirt, originally uploaded by Living in Monrovia.     3 x 5, pencil on paper. (Source: My Father's Hand)</description>
            <author>My Father's Hand</author>
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            <pubDate>Fri, 09 Mar 2007 08:23:00 +0100</pubDate>
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            <title>Float</title>
            <link>http://myfathershand.blogspot.com/2007/03/float.html</link>
            <description>.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #ffffff; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }		Float, originally uploaded by Living in Monrovia.					I love this one. I think it would make a great painting. 3 x 5, pencil on paper. (Source: My Father's Hand)</description>
            <author>My Father's Hand</author>
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            <pubDate>Tue, 06 Mar 2007 20:46:00 +0100</pubDate>
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            <title>Watching the past</title>
            <link>http://myfathershand.blogspot.com/2007/03/watching-past.html</link>
            <description>.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #ffffff; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }  Watching the Past, originally uploaded by Living in Monrovia.     The strength in her face is almost masculine. It makes me think of my father's unspoken fears about his own past. I think that he locked himself away from the world partly out of a conviction that someone, someday would step out of the shadows and take him unawares.3 x 5, pencil on paper. (Source: My Father's Hand)</description>
            <author>My Father's Hand</author>
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            <pubDate>Sat, 03 Mar 2007 05:50:00 +0100</pubDate>
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            <title>Roman head</title>
            <link>http://myfathershand.blogspot.com/2007/02/roman-head.html</link>
            <description>.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #ffffff; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }		Roman Head, originally uploaded by Living in Monrovia.					Here is one of my father's sculptures. He went through a phase doing these, and I really like their chunky quality. There are quite a few on my parents' bookcases. Some of my favorite book as a child are to the right of the head. Tintin! (Source: My Father's Hand)</description>
            <author>My Father's Hand</author>
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            <pubDate>Thu, 01 Mar 2007 05:48:00 +0100</pubDate>
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            <title>Neck study</title>
            <link>http://myfathershand.blogspot.com/2007/02/neck-study.html</link>
            <description>.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #ffffff; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }  NeckStudy, originally uploaded by Living in Monrovia.     3 x 5, pencil on paper. (Source: My Father's Hand)</description>
            <author>My Father's Hand</author>
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            <pubDate>Tue, 27 Feb 2007 19:26:00 +0100</pubDate>
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            <title>Singer</title>
            <link>http://myfathershand.blogspot.com/2007/02/singer.html</link>
            <description>.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #ffffff; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }		Singer, originally uploaded by Living in Monrovia.					3 x 5, pencil on paper. (Source: My Father's Hand)</description>
            <author>My Father's Hand</author>
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            <pubDate>Sat, 24 Feb 2007 03:30:00 +0100</pubDate>
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            <title>Sport</title>
            <link>http://myfathershand.blogspot.com/2007/02/sport_22.html</link>
            <description>.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #ffffff; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }  Sport, originally uploaded by Living in Monrovia.     3 x 5, pencil on paper. (Source: My Father's Hand)</description>
            <author>My Father's Hand</author>
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            <pubDate>Thu, 22 Feb 2007 23:10:00 +0100</pubDate>
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            <title>Fighting</title>
            <link>http://myfathershand.blogspot.com/2007/02/fightingjpg.html</link>
            <description>.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #ffffff; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }  fighting.jpg, originally uploaded by Living in Monrovia.     3 x 5, pencil on paper. (Source: My Father's Hand)</description>
            <author>My Father's Hand</author>
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            <pubDate>Thu, 08 Feb 2007 09:36:00 +0100</pubDate>
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            <title>Rue</title>
            <link>http://myfathershand.blogspot.com/2007/01/rue.html</link>
            <description>.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #ffffff; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }  Rue, originally uploaded by Living in Monrovia.     There's something sort of &quot;Stan Laurel&quot; about this sketch. The expression...is one I remember well!3 x 5, pencil on paper. (Source: My Father's Hand)</description>
            <author>My Father's Hand</author>
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        <comments>http://www.medworm.com/rss/comments.php?id=511926</comments>
            <pubDate>Mon, 29 Jan 2007 07:43:00 +0100</pubDate>
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            <title>Summer dress</title>
            <link>http://myfathershand.blogspot.com/2007/01/summer-dress.html</link>
            <description>.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #ffffff; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }  Summer Dress, originally uploaded by Living in Monrovia.     3 x 5, pencil on paper. (Source: My Father's Hand)</description>
            <author>My Father's Hand</author>
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        <comments>http://www.medworm.com/rss/comments.php?id=511927</comments>
            <pubDate>Fri, 26 Jan 2007 07:42:00 +0100</pubDate>
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            <title>Cufflink</title>
            <link>http://myfathershand.blogspot.com/2007/01/cufflink.html</link>
            <description>.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #ffffff; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }  Cufflink, originally uploaded by Living in Monrovia.     Here is another hand sketch. I like the way he has blocked out the fingers, and can almost imagine this being carved out of some big hunk of stone. 3 x 5, pencil on paper. (Source: My Father's Hand)</description>
            <author>My Father's Hand</author>
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        <comments>http://www.medworm.com/rss/comments.php?id=511928</comments>
            <pubDate>Thu, 25 Jan 2007 02:05:00 +0100</pubDate>
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            <title>Grasping</title>
            <link>http://myfathershand.blogspot.com/2007/01/grasping.html</link>
            <description>.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #ffffff; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }  handgrip.jpg, originally uploaded by Living in Monrovia.     A quick hand study. So simple but so rich. 3 x 5, pecil on paper. (Source: My Father's Hand)</description>
            <author>My Father's Hand</author>
            <type>blogs</type>
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            <pubDate>Tue, 23 Jan 2007 21:34:00 +0100</pubDate>
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            <title>Lost in thought</title>
            <link>http://myfathershand.blogspot.com/2007/01/lost-in-thought.html</link>
            <description>.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #ffffff; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }  lostinthought.jpg, originally uploaded by Living in Monrovia.     If I were to do a portrait of myself, I think it would look something like this. I have always been a quiet, thoughtful person, and if the outside accurately reflected the inside, I imagine that during periods of intense thought the &quot;faraway&quot; look would cause my body would fade and become sketchy the further away I drifted, and perhaps a little fuzzy ball with flickering images would show up in the foreground, representing that place that I really might be...3 x 5, pencil on paper. (Source: My Father's Hand)</description>
            <author>My Father's Hand</author>
            <type>blogs</type>
        <comments>http://www.medworm.com/rss/comments.php?id=511930</comments>
            <pubDate>Mon, 22 Jan 2007 06:46:00 +0100</pubDate>
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        <item>
            <title>The towel</title>
            <link>http://myfathershand.blogspot.com/2007/01/towel.html</link>
            <description>.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #ffffff; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }		The Towel, originally uploaded by Living in Monrovia.					8 x 10, ink on paper. (Source: My Father's Hand)</description>
            <author>My Father's Hand</author>
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        <comments>http://www.medworm.com/rss/comments.php?id=511931</comments>
            <pubDate>Sun, 07 Jan 2007 06:24:00 +0100</pubDate>
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            <title>Between the lines</title>
            <link>http://myfathershand.blogspot.com/2006/12/between-lines.html</link>
            <description>I have often wanted to write about my father, but the process has been fitful, and more like a journal than a book or story. It is more of a puzzle, really. I have bits and pieces of him available to me, and the rest is speculation. Or perhaps all of it is speculation. I knew him but I didn't know him. When he was hit by a car three years ago, his mind was already failing, but that event pretty much eliminated any hope we had of any kind of substantial recovery.We were just glad he was alive. Many long moments in the ICU stretched into uncertain hours, and when it was finally time to wheel him out of the hospital we thought the worst was over. But that long moment never ended. It ebbs and flows now, and most days he says nothing and does not look at us with any sort of recognition. It is a happy event when he smiles and makes eye contact, and worth a phone call when he speaks. The peculiar part of all this is that it doesn't feel much different than before the accident, except that he can no longer disappear or make unexpected withdrawals from the bank account. My mother knew that his forgetfulness was getting to be a problem when her bank balance fluctuated by the thousands, and my father had no knowledge of why. When she started finding wads of cash in odd cubbyholes and at the backs of drawers, she knew that it was time to get his permission to restrict the amount of money he could take out of the bank.Before his decline, when his memory was intact, the distance between us was shorter, but there was always a filter: alcohol, tobacco, or a closed door. He chose when to make contact, and did not welcome unexpected visitors. He did, however, welcome any and all queries about his drawings, and would stay up all night talking about it if you wanted to. Although he wasn't interested in showing his work, he did appreciate individual attention, and would often give away his best pieces to the people who appreciated it most.8 x 10, link on paper. (Source: My Father's Hand)</description>
            <author>My Father's Hand</author>
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        <comments>http://www.medworm.com/rss/comments.php?id=511932</comments>
            <pubDate>Fri, 29 Dec 2006 20:22:00 +0100</pubDate>
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        <item>
            <title>Rescued</title>
            <link>http://myfathershand.blogspot.com/2006/11/rescued.html</link>
            <description>8 x 10, ink and watercolor on paper. (Source: My Father's Hand)</description>
            <author>My Father's Hand</author>
            <type>blogs</type>
        <comments>http://www.medworm.com/rss/comments.php?id=511933</comments>
            <pubDate>Wed, 22 Nov 2006 23:14:00 +0100</pubDate>
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            <title>Hanging up</title>
            <link>http://myfathershand.blogspot.com/2006/11/hanging-up.html</link>
            <description>8 x 10, ink on paper. (Source: My Father's Hand)</description>
            <author>My Father's Hand</author>
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        <comments>http://www.medworm.com/rss/comments.php?id=511934</comments>
            <pubDate>Sat, 18 Nov 2006 22:28:00 +0100</pubDate>
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            <title>The manicure</title>
            <link>http://myfathershand.blogspot.com/2006/10/manicure.html</link>
            <description>8 x 10, ink and watercolor on paper. (Source: My Father's Hand)</description>
            <author>My Father's Hand</author>
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            <pubDate>Tue, 31 Oct 2006 02:11:00 +0100</pubDate>
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            <title>Man on bench ii</title>
            <link>http://myfathershand.blogspot.com/2006/10/man-on-bench-ii.html</link>
            <description>3 x 5, pencil on paper. (Source: My Father's Hand)</description>
            <author>My Father's Hand</author>
            <type>blogs</type>
        <comments>http://www.medworm.com/rss/comments.php?id=511936</comments>
            <pubDate>Thu, 26 Oct 2006 16:10:00 +0100</pubDate>
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            <title>Head strong</title>
            <link>http://myfathershand.blogspot.com/2006/10/head-strong.html</link>
            <description>This one looks kind of like Ron Howard to me, but it was never my father's style to draw celebrities, so it's probably a coincidence. Rather he liked to focus in on certain features, such as this man's heavy brow and full lips.3 x 5, pencil on paper. (Source: My Father's Hand)</description>
            <author>My Father's Hand</author>
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        <comments>http://www.medworm.com/rss/comments.php?id=511937</comments>
            <pubDate>Wed, 25 Oct 2006 06:55:00 +0100</pubDate>
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            <title>Gypsy wine</title>
            <link>http://myfathershand.blogspot.com/2006/10/gypsy-wine.html</link>
            <description>This sketch is part of a group of studies and so even though the head is clearly not the same person as the one holding the glass, the fact that they share the same page makes me think that perhaps a man was offering this woman a glass of wine, or perhaps drinking it in her company.3 x 5, pencil and color wash on paper. (Source: My Father's Hand)</description>
            <author>My Father's Hand</author>
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            <pubDate>Tue, 24 Oct 2006 04:54:00 +0100</pubDate>
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            <title>Nose</title>
            <link>http://myfathershand.blogspot.com/2006/10/nose.html</link>
            <description>My father was very diligent and self-motivated to study and sketch all parts of the body until he got it right. Here is his study of a nose.3 x 5, pencil on paper. (Source: My Father's Hand)</description>
            <author>My Father's Hand</author>
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            <pubDate>Sun, 22 Oct 2006 19:34:00 +0100</pubDate>
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            <title>Man on a bench</title>
            <link>http://myfathershand.blogspot.com/2006/10/man-on-bench.html</link>
            <description>3 x 5, pencil on paper. (Source: My Father's Hand)</description>
            <author>My Father's Hand</author>
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            <pubDate>Sat, 21 Oct 2006 19:38:00 +0100</pubDate>
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            <title>The look</title>
            <link>http://myfathershand.blogspot.com/2006/10/look.html</link>
            <description>There is something very haunting about this woman's look. I love how he achieved such tonality between the lights and the darks. It is from a 3 x 5 pencil sketch. (Source: My Father's Hand)</description>
            <author>My Father's Hand</author>
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            <pubDate>Fri, 20 Oct 2006 22:24:00 +0100</pubDate>
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