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.
So in the spirit of reportage,
re·port·age /r??pôrdij,?repôr?täZH/, many
of my post are drawings which address the features of note made during my near daily excursions from the sanctity of my home.
Some take liberties as to the manner in which I lay pen to paper, to wit: a stain on a floor that I interpreted to be a prancing bull elephant (I did in fact allow my imagination license to conjure said sketch). Others may find me doing my level best to depict, illustrate if you must, that before me with fairly faithful effort in the format most widely know as “realism” or often “naturalism”.
The following drawings would be just such examples, captured in the favored nomenclature of those crafty artists self described as “urban sketchers”. I count myself among the loose affiliation of this cadre.
First drawing, executed just this afternoon, is of a street light on Clark but several yards from my Lincoln Park apartment. En route to a much frequented coffee house with the aim of sketching a collective I’ve nicknamed The Chessnuts, (misspelling intended), I spied the very deteriorated concrete and rusted steel base of the previously mentioned streetlight.
Stopped dead in my tracks, an opportunistic nature insisted I whip out sketchbook & pens. I complied. Thus I present the entitled sketch ….. “chicago infrastructure “.
The Second drawing dates from January 2019 when, descending from the Metra platform at Clyborne and Ashland, I was awakened to a harbinger of Chicago’s aging public transportation superstructure. The rusting rebar bones of a crumbling concrete pillar were glaringly obvious. “Sit your arse down and start drawing young man!”, came the terse instruction. Swiveling my head to find I was “alone”, I complied.
The Third drawing was completed August 2015 whilst I sat in the air conditioned comfort of a pie & coffee shoppe in Evanston. What so captured my attention was the canary yellow steel braces that had been added to the concrete train trestle. Interesting choice of color as the bird in question was often brought in to mines to warn miners of the viability of the air quality or the lack thereof.
Please note in the detail provided in the Fourth image of yet another example of columnar decay. I suppose because the Romans, who made considerable use of concrete, built structures, many of which are with us still, more or less, like, some 17 to 20 centuries hence, we should rest assured as to the durability of these building materials and turn out attention to more, shall we say, “pressing matters”?
Well, prioritize as you most judiciously decide, I just thought you might like to know, vigilance has it’s place. Or reward. For it was none other than that old sage Ben Franklin who quipped,”A stitch in time, saves nine!” I have to give props to one who’s command of language resulted in such weighted eloquence delivered with extreme economy.
I have much to learn dear sir. Much to learn.
Drawn with fountain pen and Pitt Artist Pens on Stillman & Birn Nova series toned paper.
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.
I’m not sure why I’m being limited to 6 images in this post, until I can get WordPress aminstration to explain the problem, you’ll have to go to my next post to finish this interupted post. 
