Today was a day spent asking myself questions about my art. Two
of the questions I have focused on are:
"Why do I draw?", and "Why do I draw what I draw?"
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The copy of a Prud'hon drawing
that I did in Natalie Italiano's
drawing class. |
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I believe drawing
is a foundation to realistic painting and Studio Incamminati
instructors teach and teach and
teach it, both in class and as homework. Students copy master drawings. They draw from still life set-ups and from nude models in hundreds of both short and long
poses. There is no doubt that
drawing informs painting and at Studio
Incamminati it is a necessary component of artistry. So that's part of why I draw.
But today I realized that my affection for drawing didn't begin at any school, or under any
instructor's guidance. Other than my stick figures drawn as a small child I realized that my drawing started, sporadically at least,
in junior high and high school.
I remember drawing the Marlboro Man from the cigarette advertisement. I remember
drawing a middle aged man and small boy fishing in a lake, their bodies seen
over the rim of a row boat from some other advertisement. I remember drawing horses, both
from magazine photographs and from life, grazing in a field.
And then I went to college, and writing poetry and short
stories replaced drawing. It wasn't until about the time my daughter was born almost
twenty years later that I began to draw and sketch again.
I started by
sketching her asleep in her crib or playing with finger paints, in conte crayon.
There were many drawings of her, all lost somewhere in my piles of paper. There
were sketches of women and unfinished drawings of our dogs and cats, too.
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The sketch drawings I made of our family pets
and women's profiles. |
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What is so clear in hindsight, but not realized until today,
is that I never set up and drew a traditional
still life of my own volition. My drawing ideas came from what I connect to—living
things, things I love like people, animals, trees, water. I realized that I
need to draw those things—for me. Simply put, it makes me happy.
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This drawing was arranged with the broken
shards of a Korean vessel that belonged
to my father. |
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When I have had to set up my own still life arrangements in a still life
class, my set-up often includes objects that I love because they belonged
to someone I loved or things to which I feel a
powerful connection. The broken
pottery in the drawing at left are remnant of an old Korean vessel once belonging
to my father.
I can set up
a still life that speaks to me without those things, but it does have to
speak to other ways, through the composition.
So you might ask, where am I going with this? I am not saying don't make still life drawings. But I am saying that when you think about your next
drawing you may want to explore why
you draw, and why you draw what
you draw, and see what lessons you may learn from that exploration.
After having done the same, I now know how to make a composition out of all sorts of
objects to which I
connect at an emotional or intellectual level. Doing the same yourself means there's a powerful connection waiting for you to tap into in your own drawings. Let me know how it goes!
--Judith