Drawing at Borders - Still in Mourning!

Once upon a time, there was a place called Borders, a bookstore with a café and plenty of music playing. They had books, and chairs to sit in,magazines, coffee, poetry readings,open mike's for bands, stuff for kids to do, but best of all, Borders was a great place to go and meet fellow artists - and draw. I used to tell students that I would be there on a Friday night, bring your sketchbook (and your date) and let's lay down some graphite.

On the way out the door, I would grab "stuff", stuff like plastic wooly mammoths, wooden manikins in different sizes, tiny porcelain tea cups, whatever, stuff to draw. We would set up "still life" arrangements at our tables, guzzle big cups of coffee and chow down on scones, or brownies. Sketchbooks would open and talk would trickle down as pencils did the talking for us. When we needed a break, we would wander the stacks, looking for the books we had to have that night - Borders did not suffer from our Friday night takeover - and then head back to the sketchbooks for another hour or two.

Borders closed down, across the country, and left us high and dry. Our little band dissolved, for lack of a place to meet, and drawing night came to an end. The old Borders building is being turned into another furniture store - because we need more furniture stores. The competition bookstore - Barnes and Noble - is not meeting place friendly; the atmosphere is more "you got your book, now get out". The Starbucks that is squeezed against the wall makes lousy coffee, is painted black, and has no room for those who might linger with sketchbook in hand.

I'm still in mourning.

I've posted some of the pages (look on the navigation bar) from my sketchbook that were done at Borders and if you were one of the "gang" who met there and you still have some of your work, look up my page - Hunt's Pencil - on Facebook and post a few. Or, just say "Hey, Ms. Hunt".

Observational Drawing

First, let me state the obvious: we live in a 3-dimensional world. We live in a space that includes depth, height, width, mass, and we navigate through this world with our 5 senses, or occasionally less than 5, but whatever tools we physically have, they are essential for us to collect the information that is needed to make the most of life. Our environment is rich in stimulation and it entices us to interact with it in a multitude of ways. Among those interactions that have been with human kind since very early times is the act of recording what we see, and attempting to change ourselves, and our environment, with the knowledge that we glean from experiencing the natural world.

Currently, the trend is to draw from the 2-dimensional image, particularly photographs. No problem. Photographs are a fantastic resource and provide ready reference material for the artist. I take and use photographs for studio work, especially when the “model” is going to be a short timer, or the location is one that I won’t be able to access again in a reasonable time. Light is constantly changing and shadows move, intensify, or disappear altogether, and, if you are working in colour, that can be a disaster for a piece in progress – or, like Claude Monet, you can spend a couple of years drawing the same subject multiple times a day to record the changes with the movement of light. Then again you can take a photograph for reference.

Photographs, however, do pose a few problems – especially for beginners. First, and foremost, they represent a flat world. If you are working from a colour photograph, you are working from a different set of rules where colour is concerned, because the colour is “printed” from a colour wheel that is a bit different than the one an artist would use. This doesn’t mean that you can’t make adjustments that will make your work look 3-d, but you do need the ability to see what is needed and how to manipulate your pencils or paints to create the illusion of real.

How do you develop that skill? You draw from life. I know, your first thought – when it comes to life drawing – is that it requires a naked person holding a pose while a gazillion eyes peer over drawing boards and half as many hands are busy scribbling away on newsprint drawing pads. I guess you could call that life drawing, but so is drawing your cat, twisted in a contorted pose while sleeping propped up against your bed pillows. Life drawing is drawing what you see in the spaces that surround you. To avoid the confusion, I refer to life drawing as observational drawing, which is drawing from the real world as opposed to drawing from the 2-d world.

Because of the ever-growing emphasis on electronic media to provide visual stimuli, on a screen of additive colour, some artists are turning to the flat source of the virtual world. Keep in mind what the word “virtual“ means when you critique your work. Once again, the virtual world offers maybe only 2 of your senses the opportunity to flex themselves into shaping your understanding of the subject matter you wish to represent. Which brings me back to observational drawing - finally.

Drawing from the objects around you allows you to experience more than sight and sound, you also take in the temperature of the room, the smells in the air, your own state of comfort – or lack of – and maybe even taste (my son and I had a plateful of yucky onion rings at the Getty cafeteria, so instead of letting them go to waste, we drew them. It was interesting how the taste of the onion rings influenced our rendering of the subject!) Experience adds to your observations of the moment. Experience, itself, is not observation. Have you ever watched people at an art museum, or, for that fact, any museum? Most of the time they stroll past the objects on exhibit – experiencing them in about 3 seconds – seeing, but not observing. Many people are more likely to read the informational card next to the object than spend that extra time observing it.

For many years, I had my high school drawing students, go outside and fill bags with leaves. Not just any leaves but leaves that each person found “interesting”. From their bags the students selected “the leaf”, the one they were going to spend the next 3 weeks looking at (I didn’t tell them about the 3 weeks part). The leaf was carefully mounted on a piece of strong paper and we then spent a couple of days analyzing the leaves. They had to write down sensory information, biological information, descriptions of the veining, colour and colour changes, and on, and on. They weren’t happy and constantly reminded me that this was an art class, not a science class or an English class – little did they know…

After a long and intense period of observation, we began drawing the leaves, with the admonition that if they drew a symbolic leaf, it was a failing grade, they must draw what they wrote about with the knowledge that in 2 days time the leaves had already begun to change. They would eventually draw the leaves 3 times in 7”x7” boxes, side-by-side on one sheet of paper. The first drawing in graphite only, the second in coloured pencil and the third in watercolours. Quietest 3 weeks of the semester! The drawings were fantastic, and they weren’t sure whether they wanted to kill me or hug me. I still meet students from years back who make it a point to tell me that they collect leaves, celebrate the beauty of leaves, draw leaves, but most of all, after that, the world looked richer. Point made!