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.
Just as one would hope to capture the essential features of a car, or tree, building, baseball stadium, or someone’s home such that they could be identified by a person who hadn’t been present when the artist drew said thing, I try to “get essential features” of the people I draw, when out and about, so that you might gather important info about them. What I think of as “capturing fleeting expressions“ or “capturing the ephemeral”.
Maybe you sense gender, have a rough estimate of age, hair texture, ethnicity, or race. That they aren’t just a template, a simplified symbol for a human. Will I be able to set features and the ‘structures beneath their skin’ that their individuality might be evident and their identity known? And if I have even a modicum of time, can I give indications that they are cognizant, sentient people with expressions that give outward evidence of emotional states of ….say stress, anger, surprise, delight, or that they are concentrating, focusing, in the act of speaking, perhaps listening. Can I capture a sign they are thinking?
I’ve always done better when there were lots of features such as mustaches, wrinkles and weathered faces, prominent noses, or unusual hairstyle, less so if someone had simple features, smooth skin, button noses. Hence young children and babies vexed me. Young women were much more difficult than old geezers. With years of practice and concentrating on the goals stated above I’ve made strides, but them dang young kids still expose some of my shortcomings.
However, last week, on a crowded #22 CTA bus, I managed to get a young child taking a snooze in a stroller that surpassed the majority of years of attempts. There’s still hope for yer Uncle Darn.
Palimpsest. Something I find particularly compelling. Whether I’m motivated to work back into a drawing because I’m lured by a seductive idea teasing me to follow and develop it; or because the page bears little appeal, i.e. the drawing just plain sucks, and I give myself permission to liposuck and surgically ad hoc the beejeeziss out of it, it is a very freeing process once I push the GO button.
The following sets of drawings show the morphed image and it’s inchoate precursor.
Fountain pen, Pitt Artist Pens, grease pencil, ballpoint and watercolor pencils on various papers- old ledgerbooks, Clairefontaine Goldline Watercolour sketchbook, and mulberry paper.
#palimpsest #drawing #adhocart #pittartistpen #clairefontaine #draweveryday #artediting #instaart
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.
Some 18-19 years ago, I worked as an illustrator for a classical music label and drew scores of drawings of composers. Bach, Brahms, Beethoven, Mahler, Stravinsky, Poulenc, Verdi, Rossini, and gobs more. I don’t think I’m that grand at portraiture and that even less of my skill at it back then; but hey, I landed the gig and got paid to get better. So I’ve gone back into my collection and have reworked some of them
Sibelius was one of the earliest assignments I had. The second and third from the left were from those days. The others were recently added.
Drawn on ledgerbook paper, composition sheets with ballpoint, fountain pen and Pitt Artist Pens.
