On Drawing                                                               More Thoughts on Drawing                                         

The importance of drawing as a foundation for any art form cannot be underestimated. It allows me to think on paper. It is a silent dialogue with the scene in front of me, a continuous loop of observing, drawing, evaluating. It can be a way to understanding the subject, and know its essence. I collect impressions and images to use later for creating finished work in the studio, or jot down possible compositions. And sometimes, with a few lines, I snatch a fleeting moment of life, just to have it. Once it is in my sketchbook, it can transport me back to the scene any time. All my paintings start with drawings.

I just finished a watercolor, left, based on a sketch, right, I did on location one night at the Fulton Fish Market.

The sketches below were done in the Fulton Fish Market. Just a few lines capture the action, or lack thereof. The man reading a newspaper is perched gingerly atop boxes of fish he hopes to sell when the action picks up. In the sketch with three figures, it was the swing of fish in transit that caught me. The single figure, far right, grips a fish's tail with one hand and its head with the other. It is clearly heavy, as he seems to totter with it.

More Thoughts on Drawing

The life drawing class I'm attending at the Art Students League is in the same studio where, over four decades ago, I studied figure drawing and anatomy with Robert Beverly Hale. Little, if anything, has changed about the room. I may even be sitting on the very chair I once occupied as a student.

With this perspective, thoughts about learning anatomy come to mind as I draw the model. I recall how important it was to know such things as one mastered drawing the figure. Now I wonder if I draw what I know, or draw what I see. After all, the forms I want to draw are in plain sight-the model stands before me. Aren't my own observations sufficient to yield truth of form? Knowing how something should be-well, perhaps it makes for formulaic drawing-a rendering of the ideal, instead of the actual.

But then again, knowing bone structure, function, shape of muscles, what goes where-maybe this gives my drawing conviction. It certainly feels that way as I swing a piece of charcoal with gusto across the paper. My thoughts turn from anatomy studies to the particular model in front of me, drawing his particular bone structure, his muscles, his stance, his pose-which is far more interesting than any ideal could be. Oh, and by the way-the bone structure of his head is quite fabulous.

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My Watercolor Process

I sketch on location and use my camera to record details. Sketching connects me to the subject, allowing me to learn about it and to decide how to portray it. These sketches evoke the scene as I develop a watercolor in my studio. I no longer do finished artwork on location. The tyranny of reality interferes with my thought process and the evolution of creative work. I prefer mulling things over and being deliberate, rather than hustling to paint something before the light changes. Once an idea gels, I make several thumbnail compositions (below left) to see which arrangement might be most effective.

Next come color notes, sometimes using pastel (top middle). For this particular watercolor, I can choose sunset, or rainy day colors. I then do a full-size sketch on tracing paper, and slip a piece of graphite transfer paper under it (above right) and trace the drawing onto watercolor paper. This serves as a guide. It doesn't do to figure out the horizon line or where objects are placed when paint is spreading out of control or worst, drying too soon. Any lines showing at the end are easily erased.

Now for the color work (below, left to right). I use transparent watercolors, so the only white is that of the paper, not in any of the pigments. Once color meets paper, there is no turning back, no lightening, only darkening. Traditionally, one starts light and works toward deeper colors. However, I like to jump right in and establish my darker tones right off the bat. It sort of shocks me into high gear and the rest of the process becomes an adventure. In the light areas, however, adventure gives way to prudence, and I’m careful to use a delicate touch. I save the most intense darks for accents in the final phase of development, and the watercolor is finished.

I'd love to hear your comments and questions. Please click here to email me at artpm [at] verizon.net... Thanks, Naima

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