1. Inked stippling over a light graphite pencil sketch. The paper is Strathmore’s 300 Series
2. Stippling the foreground reminded me of a couple things. For one, why I stopped working this way. But I’d forgotten too how appropriate this kind of work can feel. Those sessions when you aren’t into Big Creative Decisions much, filling in a field of very small marks seems a productive use of the time. Or maybe that’s just the OCD kicking in again.
When the ink was dry- if you’re working on clean paper, this happens very quickly, the Pigmas are great that way- I evened things up a little with 2B & HB charcoal pencils, kneaded erasers. A Pen & Ink purist, I ain’t. Whatever works.
3. The sky began with a light rubbing of charcoal dust. I developed the mist and moon with graphite pencils (Dixon Ticonderogas, Numbers 1-4) and kneaded erasers, working soft to hard. Last, I tightened and warmed the tree a bit with a Number 3 graphite pencil.
Sometimes To Stand
Ink, Graphite, Charcoal; 3 ¾” x 2 3/8”
The title comes from something I found myself saying in the parking lot of an Elmira Heights church twenty years ago: Sometimes just to stand is to move forward. Some things you forget, some things stay with you. There were good people at that place, putting their backs into it. They knew faith, and work, and that they’re not different.
Sometimes To Stand is a small, simple drawing, nothing extraordinary, no new ground broken. But it felt good to revisit this kind of work, and I hope my enjoyment of the process is reflected in the result. The scans should load at about actual size at most browser settings.
The Nightingale’s Garden
Charcoal, Graphite; 5” x 9”
No scanner handy over the weekend, so this scan represents two sessions, about eight hours’ work. Trying to follow, flesh out the bones of the trees I’d sketched earlier seemed an almost certainly dissatisfying path: I wanted to get out of their way and my own, let these trees to be a product of this session, today’s energy and direction. So I began again, fast and loose– Q-Tips loaded with soft charcoal dust, initial shapes and highlights lifted out with kneaded erasers. Details developed with 6B charcoal pencils, softened & sharpened with more kneaded eraser, Dixon Ticonderoga graphite pencils, grades 1-4.
The last session was a Fussing Day– Cleaning up, smoothing out background and mist with a gazillion or minute adjustments. Kneaded erasers shaped to a very fine point, and a Staedtler Mars Lumograph 6H graphite pencil. The Nightingale’s Garden was done in several sessions over 12 days; total working time was about 22 hours.
Last night I began with the remaining unfinished area above the middle pool, developing detail, bringing values into line. In these sessions when I’m resuming work on a drawing in progress, I look for the obvious, the first thing I see that clearly needs doing. A way of warming up, maybe: Small decisions before bigger.
The top pool was also unplanned. I’d do a few obvious, then see about the tree– Next thing I knew, there was another pool, and getting bigger, and and.
As usual, there are elements I’m not satisfied with- maybe never will be, not entirely, but I need to remember to leave well enough alone, sometimes- and that’s just what I can see, what seems obvious. What I can’t see yet, though, that’s where the fun waits.
Sure, saleable is good- And for some of us, necessary. But trying to hit that mark… If you’ve got those kinds of chops, that’s a good thing. Me, I've learned to draw what I love, and then think about sales. Because if my heart’s not in it… Well, that’s really all we have to offer, isn’t it: Ourselves, and our best.
For me, a lot of that’s about pushing aside preconceptions, refusing that intellectual overlay- mmn, this element doesn’t really make sense, how can I make it work with the others, that kind of overthinking- that often clouds rather than clears. Usually, if I leave well enough alone, the drawing will move forward in a way that’s satisfying and efficient. So far, so good.
So only a couple things, or at least their beginnings- not a lot, compared to the epic revisings some drawings have suffered- went the way of the Mayans. Who probably didn’t build any of this, even the oldest parts, not their style. You never know though. Maybe some rebellious Mayan princess went rogue on ‘em, blew her inheritance on a second year art student full of revolutionary new ideas, and this got half-built before the money ran out.
Half-hearted sucks. Half-built, though- That’s good. Leaves room for all kinds of possibilities.
