An Amateur Runner’s Guideto Long Distance Drawing This drawing – which I’m calling “Demons and Clowns” – took me roughly 6 hours, which I think is the longest time I’ve ever spent on a drawing. There is more I could do and plenty I regret doing and it’s time to say good enough. This narrative self portrait is the last assigned drawing for the Community College class I’m taking and I’m writing down some what I’ve learned specifically about doing a long drawing. And maybe because I’m gently training for a half marathon or maybe because I just finished Haruki Murakami’s What I Talk about when I Talk about Running – a memoir as much about novel-writing as it is about running – the metaphor of “long-distance drawing” seems particularly apt. As in longer distance running, there is a mental game just as there is to a long-session bit of creativity. There’s more to it than simply putting one foot in front of the other / making another mark; there is an overall shape, an architecture, a narrative structure… I suspect there’s a similar big story to many creative works, maybe to all human projects. When I was writing my first novel, I had the sense that my brain had to get bigger to fit a novel inside it. “To build a ship, build a shipyard.” Though the metaphor of running will go in and out of focus, I hope these ideas can be applied to whatever “big race” you currently find yourself engaged in. Shout out to Stephen Bauman (here’s a link to his Patreon) an instructor at the Florence Academy of Art. He posts long videos of his drawing sessions which give a clear sense of the patient diligence to build up a drawing especially in graphite. And in particular, he repeats a phrase “Your assignment at the point in the drawing is…” which EXACTLY captures the sense that drawing is a developing adventure, more than heaping up a big pile of details, higher and deeper. These following remarks are mostly about charcoal which we’ve been using in class for about a month. Charcoal is fast and rather forgiving. It builds up dark and can be knocked back quite easily. And it’s a mess! Wear dark clothes… or clothes that you wouldn’t mind becoming dark. Pre-race) Assemble materials, the grades of charcoal and tools for blending. I used a chamois, a blending stump and a hard plastic eraser. Lace up your shoes, get a good night’s sleep, use the restroom. 1) Perhaps like choosing the course or registering for a particular race, refine the overall composition with lots of sketches. Play with cheap, small pieces of paper before you commit to the good stuff. Innovate hard. Fail lots and eventually feel pretty good about the general design. 2) Just like stretching and warming up your muscles, tone the background. It’ll give options to add lights with an eraser in addition to adding darks. It’s extra classy to leave a generous border around the edges. I used the chamois to made this background tone soft. Remember how much fun it is to push around black dust on paper. 3) At the starter’s pistol, begin making the first marks for this particular picture. Get the gesture. This is the moment for movement. It’s harder to add dynamic flow once more marks accumulate. Remember how your limbs feel as they interact with the surface. 4) For about the first hour, work on general proportions and contours. Draw very lightly. Measure and measure again. This is the “line” part of the drawing. You could possibly do this with very light graphite. Obviously include the contours of the shape and also indicate the termination line where the shadow wraps around the form. In running, “negative splits” refers to running your first miles SLOWER than your last mile. Save something in the tank. This stage is still serious drawing; no amount of detail layered on top can save bad proportions — and there’s a similar sense of regret that occurs later in the drawing or run when the realization dawns of a mistake in these early steps. In my experience, most quick sketch or gesture drawings get this far and excellence at this stage sets one up to win the race. 5) Settle in. Divide areas into broad light and dark areas. Add a bit of tone gently, using the side of the charcoal. Perhaps erase a bit of the tone you laid down just to coax a little light… though I am amazed at how just a little dark transforms this midtone ground into a light. With any luck, a sense of form will emerge like your figure is leaning out of the page. Take a step back and get a bigger picture — maybe even step away or get a sip of water at a refreshment station — the whole drawing, warts and all, will be easier to see after even a minute’s break. Correct any mistakes. 6) This is the real race, where focus shifts to blocks of tone. “Lines” are mostly now just the edges between those blocks and they can be hard, firm, soft, lost… It’s easier to make an edge harder than to make one softer so keep edges soft at this stage. Knock them down a bit with a chamois or blending stump. Postpone making mistakes if you can’t avoid them entirely. I start by working with the darks, possibly because that’s what I do with paint. Your mileage may vary, perhaps. Do the dark areas look good together? Try to get just two different values in the darks. Step back. Refine the shapes because I bet you’ll have lost the drawing by this point. No worry. Find it again. 7) Another mile. Try to get four different values in the dark areas starting with the darkest darks. Once the darkest darks go in, magically reflected light will appear, almost like how the form magically appeared when the first regions of tone went in. Are those shapes right? Probably not. Refine them and start thinking about whether you LIKE those shapes. You are the artist, dammit. If you don’t like what you see, you are free to improve it. 8) It’s halfway done, maybe a bit more, and some unique challenges still await. Unlike running, I did my 6 hour drawing in two sessions and, I find myself typically quite discouraged by the end of the first session. I consider starting over or taking up another past-time. This feels like “the wall” in running, though when I’m running, it seems to happen later in the process. In my first half marathon, it happened at Mile 10 of the 13.1 miles. Maybe it’s blood sugar / glycogen levels — in both cases, come to think of it. Address that. I don’t experience a runner’s high when doing creative work, not exactly and maybe that relates to taking breaks so I can be refreshed and better enjoy the work. Painters refer to a “messy stage” and maybe that’s around here. The only way out, is through. 9) Focus on the lights, more properly called the midtones. Get a couple values within the light shapes. These will really add a sense of form, how each shifting plane catches and reflects light. I’ve heard a painter say “I’m a realist which means I am most interested in what happens in the midtones” which has stuck in my memory because I don’t really understand what it means. Maybe you will. A truism that I DO understand and hold deeply in my heart is “The darkest light is always lighter than the lightest dark.” It’s possible that your midtones have gotten too close to the darks. Step back or step away, and then re-assess. Correct. Refine. (It is entirely appropriate to feel a little smug at how good your piece looks, at least in spots and that maybe those creative endorphins kicking in. Use them to fuel the last push.) 10) It’s maybe the last mile, too soon to claim victory or even for a last sprint. Focus on transitions and edges. That blending stump really shines at this stage. Is that a gradual shift in tone like around a curved form, or is it hard or firm? It’s easier to ADD a hard edge than it is to soften one so feel smug that you’ve waited until now to firm them up. A few hard or firm edges magically can make the piece feel like it comes into focus, out of that smeary haze of charcoal powder. Step back, consider each stroke, each step. No time for a twisted ankle now. 11) The last 10 minutes or that point when you can see the finish line or hear the crowd, use white chalk/conte stick to pull out the brightest whites. Our eyes find high contrast exciting so maybe concentrate the brightest whites near to the focus area of your piece. Don’t over do it. White chalk has a reputation for turning ugly when it’s blended with charcoal, so add the white areas to already bright areas. That reputation is useful, even if not exactly true. 12) Finish the thing. Adjust a shadow, bump a contour, soften an edge… and step away. Paul Valery (I think) said “Artworks are never finished, only abandoned” and I think that’s bullshit. It confuses “finished” with “perfect” and nothing in this life will EVER be perfect. I prefer a quotation from Seth Godin “Real artists ship.” Runners have the idea of a “personal best” or a “personal record” and it is GREAT to strive for high ideals. But each race has an end. So take the medal, enjoy your celebratory carbohydrates, stretch… and maybe plan how the next time it might be even better. WHAT’s YOUR “BIG BIKE RACE” right now? How are you putting one step after another? There’s a “Kids in the Hall” sketch about a nerdy child who abruptly cuts off a conversation with the phrase “I’m in the middle of a big bike race!” It still cracks me up. So often in life, and in many different contexts, I find myself in a “big bike race.” Sometimes it’s a creative work. Sometimes it’s repairing a relationship. Sometimes it’s training for an actual race. What are YOU working toward right now? Are there metaphors or mental games you use to keep you working? Share! |
| In addition to the obligatory link to my ON-LINE ART STORE — I have a request. If you know someone who might get a kick out of these newsletters, who might be a member of the Tribe, PLEASE OH PLEASE forward it to them. And if you have received such a forwarded message, consider joining us with this subscription link: https://lp.constantcontactpages.com/su/jX0Ddba It’s my once-a-week reflection on what it’s like being creative during the past week, designed to help you spot more resources and opportunities you may have overlooked. You in? |
| I mention sketches in Step 1. Here are a couple. Neither one took more than 20 minutes. The one on the right informed me that an underneath light can make me look lumpy as well as spooky! |
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