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The sense of history in the making was palpable this past week in Philadelphia. When I learned that I was going to the Democratic National Convention, I immediately felt a sense of responsibility: How do I document the importance of the four days, let alone take it all in on a personal level? Many of us in attendance were thinking of our mothers and grandmothers, and I was no exception. My radar was on full strength, trying to sense shared emotions about the import of this week. Much of what I saw, I drew. But much of what I felt, I could not actually draw. My hope is that the drawings here express the giddy gravitas of the moment.
