Tagged: Platinum Carbon Ink

 
Caught some artists life drawing and sketching out and about.

Fountain pen and Faber-Castell Pitt Artist Pens on Tomoe River Paper and Tomoe River Paper.

 

I’ll admit some of my pages are quite the train wrecks. To wit: the first scan.
To those of you who’ve borne witness to my sketchbooks and been surprised to see the spectrum run from chicken scratching to clusterf@kkery, allow me to explain.
There are times when describing how I begin or develop a drawing to another artist, or student, the sketchbook is my podium, and I jot down my thought process right there, on the spot, in full view of another’s retinas. Not wanting to be ‘long winded’ as it were, (I realize, THAT runs against expectation), the doodles are pretty much whipped out and at times very much short of grace.
The 2nd and 3rd images are minimal, yet clear enough to get the point with the sketch in blue ink on yellow ledger paper showing the progression of a bent over figure, derived from a modeling friend on the left to the imagined scenario of a fight on the right.
 
 
After that we see a very cursory sketch of four people in green about a table with indication of an implied horizon line for POV. Pretty quick and loose in light green with follow up line work in black to give a tad more clarity, as in,”Okay, there you have it. Now y’all get started and let’s see where you take that in 30 minutes”.

Next up….uh oh, it appears Don not only displayed how to do a loose layout in a light Umber color followed up by dropping black marks on top to strengthen form and pull near features out of the background, but perhaps a touch of impatience also, eh?

Two more images show our pedagogue starting to use the same page for multiple lessons. Hang on tight, this could get confusing.
 
Now we come to a diagrammatic sketch of a bush. That’s more like it. Focused, with sufficient development to explain the incorporation of simplified geometry, developing form by building values, awareness of light source, and enriching surfaces with varied textures.

And after that…oh dear, he’s back at it, certainly demonstrating some of his trickier palm print for leather techniques, but those moire hatching patterns could mean our boy is adrift on one of his tangents again.

Thank goodness he’s returned to a simple  linear layout of a house, I guess, and some kind of…like…machine-ishy gizmo whatchamacallit. We’ll like the text says, I guess you had to be there.

Now the blue panorama of the cemetery should be as self evident as the kid can get. Start light and general, work towards the specifics and develop the values. This was actually done, on site, for the benefit of a class. But you’d have to poll the class to get second opinions about the benefits passed along.
So the six sketches that follow demonstrate one thing in particular. That I loathe wasting good paper. The question of the merits of any given drawing here being set aside for the moment, I often go back into my demo pages, especially the minimally developed and sketchier ones and start to reuse, or repurpose, or transform, or crowd ‘em up. Especially if I’m on a bus and I’m frantically flipping thru the book to find the space to drop in a passenger’s head. Like the bearded dude’s noggin.
It can get pretty disjunct.


Occasionally, I’ll drop a drawing on top of some sketches that were minimal or light enuff that any early meanderings got incorporated into the whole with little evidence of pentimento, or prior being. Kinda the way I feel about reincarnation. With all the new input and distractions and constant jazz and extrapolating forays, how are you ever gonna recognize your way back to your old self.
Hunh?????
Mmmm, last up is a page that seemed to have begun one journey, jumped track, and rode away on an obsessive tangent.
 
 
Drawn with various medium such as fountain pens using Platinum Carbon Ink, DeAtramentis Document Black and Brown Ink, Faber-Castell Pitt Artist Pens, Polychromos Color Pencils, Gouache, and White Grease Pencils on ledgerbooks, and Clairefontaine notebooks, Goldline Watercolour sketchbooks, Stillman & Birn Nova Series sketchbooks.

 
After months of notifications and raising funds, the project to clean the water, deepen North Pond and redesign and redevelop the banks has begun. First image shows the bottom being dredged.


The underbrush and waterlogged trees are being removed, debris is being dredged, the depth of the pond is increased to 8’ in the center.
Below are images before the project got underway.



Drawn on Clairefontaine paper, in Rhodia sketchbooks and the toned Stillman & Birn Nova Series sketchbooks with fountain pen, Platinum Carbon Ink, DeAtramentis Document brown ink, and Pitt Artist Pens.


Gosh, I miss life drawing. I draw from life on a regular if not daily basis. But to draw the human body, uncovered, to really slow down and take an intense accounting of this marvel of the world. To see the structure and the substructure while capturing the play of light over the form. In the past two years I’ve barely drawn the nude and have stopped attending live sessions. I gave the virtual, online live session a go but there is a subtle spatial difference of drawing from a screen, a two dimensional surface filmed from the singular perspective of a lense and standing before a figure. When drawing live, in the same space before a model, I feel the negotiation between my two eyes. The very tricky play of parallax which creates the jostling of binocular vision.
And the craft of translating the third dimension onto a plane. Dealing with the slow fatigue of the model holding 15 and 25 minute poses, where the greater the difficulty of their pose, the more the wrestling match with gravity creates settling of the body, and the not always slight twists which may ease the strain of the pose but tease the artist to accommodate new profiles and morphing negative spaces. I miss it and I love it. All that and the accounting of lights nuanced play over the form. Again, each minute shift means light edges and slips to new real estate.
I enjoy looking at this marvel that is us.
Every sleek contour, every wrinkle, crevice, bulge, scar, wart, hollow, hump, jut, droop, dimple. The heft and hang, the flab and fold, the sheen and shade, where there’s hair, where it’s spare, the stretched and gathered, the glint of light on pout or snout or knuckle or nail.
Ah and skin. That marvelous organ which wraps and conceals all that writhes and wriggles beneath. At times dry and cottony, other times it more resembles satin or warm alabaster where one can literally see light penetrating it’s surface.
And the extraordinary dance between the hand and eye, and the mind and the heart that is the craft of drawing. The Thesaurusian challenge to describe as simply as possible or with as wide an alphabet of marks as one may, the same features again and again and with tireless return, again with no loss of delight.
Know thyself.
I’ve been missing it.






 
Drawn with a variety of fountain pens – usually with water proof pigmented ink or water resistant inks some of which are dyes, white grease pencils -aka White China Markers, my trusty Faber-Castell Pitt Artist Pens, on the rare occasion a color pencil, on various papers.


Latest installment from the graphic novella The Java Knot. “So, it’s more than a habit… this pull to draw out in public. I don’t bring a book to read, I’m too fidgety for that. I’d rather check out my surroundings. Mostly, if honesty overtakes me, I prefer to watch people. Closely. Some would call it staring. But that sounds too passive to me. I go over them like an eagle casing the river below, looking for movement beneath the surface. Trying at times to understand the substructure of cheek bones, jaw muscles, the coordination of a hand’s architecture as it returns coffee cup to saucer then glides to flip the page of a book. But I also watch, as if, like the eagle’s penetrating glare beneath the waves, I can sense a current of thought. Knit brows, pinching lips, the coordinated grip of the masseter and temporalis muscles setting molars firmly into their opposing cousins. Frustration? Displeasure? Disapproval? Disgust? And will my drawings capture a fleeting moment of unguarded commentary, which, if elusive to presumptuous certainty, feels as though I’m now driving the streets of that someone’s neighborhood.
I sauntered to my recently favored cafe to find an interesting looking gent, with long uncoiling ringlets of Grey hair, seated curbside at a table, both hands occupied, one with coffee, the other with cellphone. I seated myself at an adjacent table such that we were facing each other, if obliquely. He no sooner placed his cup, empty, upon the table than the waitress appeared from within the shop and replaced the depleted cup with a full one. ‘Keep ‘em coming?’ she asked. ‘Keep ‘em coming’, he said. She turned directly to me, and asked my pleasure as I pulled sketchbook and pens from my satchel. Hot cocoa, bitter, no whip.
About then, a bicyclist coming up the street, glided along side the curb, slowed, nearly stopping beside the gent working his second cup, deftly laying an envelop on the table before him, and continued on. No exchange of words, nor looks. No nod. As I opened my sketchbook to a fresh page with little fanfare, the envelope slid into his jacket in like fashion with the hand returning to cradle the cup. His heavy lidded eyes never wandered from the cell’s screen.
I had payed little attention to the parking meter directly behind him, but as I began laying in the preliminary lines of his head, torso, the table and meter, I was amused to see the words PAY HERE backing his right arm. The very arm which had retrieved the envelope as if an extension of the meter.”

Drawn with Faber-Castell Pitt Artist Pens and fountain pen on Stillman & Birn Beta Series sketchbook.

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