From my notebook

A few 2 to 3 minute sketches to use the time either at the end of a pose or when Annie is stretching between poses or a quickie pose.

A quickie pose leaning forward with hands on chair and platform.

Another quickie.

Leaning over with fingers touching toes.

Hand grasping foot.

Curled up sitting on hands and feet.

 

 

Talgarth in December

High winds and torrential rain reduced the planned 3 days to two. Niel then extended the drawing time by two hours on the two days. The amazing Annie again is our model. My previous posting gives an introduction, and here is my output starting with the first set of quickies on the first morning.

We start with some so called 'warm-up' one minute poses to which my response is a line or two to capture the essence of each pose. This might be simply a outline profile from shoulder to knee, or perhaps a hand, etc. I'm using a fine-liner pen in each hand.

 

A second piece of paper but the quickies soon came to an end, so a few minimalist responses

Two poses here, up to five minutes each. Firstly the seated in which Annie has her right hand pulling her right foot towards her. Then a recall of my 'superimpositioning and transparency' approach which allows the second pose to form a frame or compositional context for the first. Then in order to help the beholder to distinguish between the two I have added a bit of tone (sort of related to my 'revisiting programme').

Turning my paper to a landscape format is fairly unusual for me. I did it here in anticipation I might morph two side-by-side poses together. This I did but only to a slight extent as they remain quite separate. I'm using a graphite pencil (woodless 2B's) in each hand to map out the basics then going in to firm up the forms using my dominant hand. I spent quite a time dealing with the 'looking-down' perspective on the head and the twist of the body.

Again a fairly short pose so a quick few lines to engage with the basic form, followed by a tonal emphasis of charcoal rubbed with the finger and some cross hatching with a 2B graphite pencil. A 'mountainous' landscape result or perhaps after Rodin.

I mentioned to Annie that I would be attempting to avoid my 'deconstructivist' approach and place an emphasis during these two days on attempting the whole pose, and not to violate its beauty by pulling it apart. But then it appears I couldn't resist the temptation to focus in on different parts and to use different scales. So we have the hands on the back of the chair with the breasts just behind as parts of the first viewpoint. But then Annie's feet somehow appear and morph into the back of the chair. Meanwhile at some point in the process I found a need to bring in almost the full length of the pose from foot up to the shoulder. My eye was moving around the pose and as it focussed on a particular part, that part arrived on the paper, and so on. 

This was an exciting twisted pose the basic form of which arrived easily on my paper, and I recall I wanted to emphasise the hands which I did in fine-liner pen. Niel was right to suggest cropping the paper would enhance the form. Perhaps this is much more Rodinesque but again without the eroticism.

A charcoal drawing. I used a black Derwent tinted charcoal caressed in sweeps with a soft tissue, a stick of willow charcoal to provide some lines of emphasis, fingers were also used to blend in charcoal for the darker tonal areas, then finally to introduce an element of excitement I threw at the paper some charcoal powder using a toothbrush as the weapon. Because the paper was almost vertical this last addition utilised gravity to create the streaky effect.

You will be able to make out the back of Annie, drawn twice. The one on the right of the drawing includes her shoulder, the ends of her fingers of her right hand as it clasps her arm, and her left breast. Her right leg is supported on her left thigh and comes across the composition in front of the left hand figure (this may not be the case, as the leg may have entered the composition from somewhere else. I really cannot recall). What transforms this into an abstract composition is the way I have responded to shadow. I outlined each shadow area and then blocked in with a sepia tinted charcoal which I rubbed in with my finger. I then placed an emphasis on the darker tonal area with charcoal which again I rubbed in with a finger. 

I am unable to recall what took place here (perhaps an example of my life-drawing activity entering a deeply meditative state, the details of which I am unable to recall after the event).

You will see that Annie did a number of laying poses and after an hour or two she would turn around to give people an opportunity the opposing view. She would then repeat this. So you will see that the last two drawings result from these changes in position. And in them I moved back and forth from fine-liner pen on the first to brush applying charcoal powder with water on the second.

There is quite a bit of heading into the unknown with these last two. Here are two good examples of what I referred to in my previous posting as 'trial and (error) success, experimentation and accidental outcome'. In the first I am attempting to superimpose a drawing of one part upon another, and to discover whether each remains clear, defined and understood. I have frequently attempted this before but this time I was very conscious of what I was doing, I studied what was taking place on my paper whilst it was taking place. This drawing did not come from the heart. However, by contrast the second drawing did come from within: I intuitively brushed my medium on to the paper and played with it to seek tonal variation.

Reflections on a weekend of life-drawing with cancer.

 A weekend drawing Annie over at Niel Bally's studio in Talgarth.

[I have yet to photograph my drawings, so I thought I would post some thoughts which evolved over the next day or so. But here are two drawings which illustrate the variety that took place. Firstly, from my notebook two standing poses in fine-liner pen, one-handed, a minute or so each pose. Secondly, perhaps about 30 minutes, in charcoal, and one of those rare occasions when I work hard on a drawing and bring it to a conclusion, So something of a contradiction to Leonardo "Art is never finished, only abandoned"]

I've always been fascinated by the perceptual process(es) of drawing from life. The perceptual skills required include:

perception of edges

perception of spaces

perception of relationships

perception of lights and shadows

and

perception of the whole (gestalt).

Once an understanding of the complexity of these interrelated skills is grasped then the real act, the sub-conscious act, of employing these skills can take place. We then find that a far less scientific process takes over. And this is best described as 'trial and (error) success', 'experimentation' and 'accidental outcome'. So this is making the idea of the 'unknown future' fundamental to our process, and also bringing into play the 'inner self' as a key contributor. Within this context I am reminded of an iconic saying by the Russian ballerina Pavlova, "First learn technique, then forget it, for without heart there can be no art" 

In order for this stage to be reached during any prolonged life-drawing session then 'endurance' comes in to play: 

physical endurance

mental endurance

and

emotional endurance.

Having an incurable cancer, which saps my strength and leaves me with little energy, presents me with a real challenge. Yet somehow I do find an energy and I am able to 'endure'. And I believe that what is happening is that my emotional engagement with my art provokes a mental stimulation which over rides any physical weakness. I was really quite astonished that at the end I felt no tiredness and was fully elated.

But I now sit at my easel whereas before I moved back and forth in a kinetic space which perceptually extended into the depths of my paper and  further to embrace the model. As a result of the shifts in my practice raised thus far by issues of physicality and endurance, my understanding of the body as a tool to draw has become a means of exploration in and of itself. I do not have a clear grasp of how long the performance of producing a drawing will last and therefore, have had to develop an understanding of pace, finding a balance between effort and the strength of my own body. When we place attention on 'the length of a drawing' I have had a rule to follow "Stop before you get to the end" as it is often those final additions which will often detract from the essence already achieved. However John Berger maintained that "Drawing is a process of correcting errors" which I suppose could go on for ever. On the contrary Leonardo claimed that "Art is never finished, only abandoned"

I suggest that at the centre of all this is my 'theory of consciousness' - being able to inform aspects from my experience with the conscious act of 'doing', i.e. I am a being which moves, acts and responds. It is this understanding which forms the basis of my practice-based research into my art. I explore the body, the human form, and this is the material of my research enquiry. And all done with heart.

Morphing the left side and the right side.

Here is my history of a particular response to a pose, in which I firstly outline the one side of the body and then the other, and the two merge together in the drawing. Because this is such a regular event I thought it would be interesting just to go back through my archive and bring as many as I can find together. Will I discover a theme, a particular approach, is this a genre which is fundamental to my desire to look for alternatives to the more traditional 'whole' pose, or is what takes place central to my cubist perceptual process? We'll see.................................(whilst perusing my archive I thought I would also include drawings in which two views from different viewpoints are included in the drawing which then also morph together in some way)

This posting is the second of my recent reviews of my drawings focussing on a particular approach. The last one looked at perspective and foreshortening, see: 'From head to foot' August 21st 2024. In these exercises I am looking back in order to move forward, and this is made possible as this blog holds a complete record of all my drawings.

I see that in November 2018 I said  "I tend to morph naturally these days. And its a sort of cubism looking at front and back at the same time"

 

 

 

 

Conversation with Niel

During my 18 or so years of life-drawing I have had many conversations about my work with fellow life-drawers, tutors, and friends. Very occasionally I have referred to these on my blog, but this is the first time I have posted an email conversation around a particular subject. It is with Niel Bally who tutors a variety of art courses at his studio in Talgarth in the foothills of the Black Mountains in Powys, Wales, which is within an hours drive of my home in the hills of Gwent. I first attended Niel's studio in 1917 (I started life-drawing in 2006 and became a two-handed drawer in about 2011).

This conversation took place between November 14th and 27th, 2024.

Dear Niel

That was good. Really good (Reference 3 days in November, and posted on this blog on November 13th as 'I didn't know I had a language') So, I have just posted my drawings on my blog with an observation about a conversation with Natalie, which needs time for reflection to comprehend its full meaning.

So much looking forward to December.

Ref my conversation with Natalie: I took with me a stack of old drawings, which I considered to be not particularly special (so I would probably throw them away at some time), and had a clean reverse side. As I took each sheet from my folio I glanced at the drawing on it. I gradually built up a realisation that there were significant similarities, particularly in my mark-making, between the old drawings and those I was now producing. 

I mentioned this to Natalie, showed her two examples, and commented to her that in looking back at early drawings I was identifying similarities to what I am now doing. Her response was so insightful. "It's the same with me, I look back at early work and conclude that 'I didn't know I had a language (then)'" We explored this connection between our past and our current art. And our conclusion is that there exists within each one of us a fundamental way of doing things which we are probably born with and will prevail regardless of the challenges, regardless of the pressures, regardless of influences, to change direction, i.e. 'We each have our own language!' But we take a long time to realise this.

Dear Bob

Very good to look through your blog. On the last 3 days I had no idea you had made so many. Then am I right that you added some older drawings as discussed in script ?

Anyway I enjoyed seeing all the folders and remembering much of the work and seeing some I must have missed . Lots of Annie . Yes you do have a language. One part of it is quite linear and another part is very concerned with form in space and the latter seems to be what underlies and informs.  Whether it’s convention I do like seeing the singular figures as intervals from the complex multiples , one feeds off the other.

Dear Niel
Thanks for your observations. All 19 are of Annie during the three days. Your comment that the singular figures at intervals from the complex multiples feeds off each other is a good one and appears to be a positive aspect of my current approach. I post all drawings on my blog regardless of their quality (in my terms) and whether I like them or not. And I know that this time over half of the 19 I am really pleased with.


Dear Bob

The blog is a really good idea . The last weekend was productive and some  really good quality drawing.
Remember last May you did a rear view  in ink with about  one inch brush marks That’s a language.

You can express form with thick width marks as well as a  0.7 nib both pure abstractions  except a line is not so abstract as a lot of the time it’s about division of the edge of form and space.

Dear Niel

Here are a few thoughts in relation to your comment that the 'rear view in ink with about one inch brush marks, That’s a language'. To me it is bold, clear, and its spontaneity means it has come from the heart. As a result the mark making is not contrived but in some way may be described as genuine. So this qualifies it for me as 'a language'. 

But I believe that as I move back and forth from the 'one inch brush marks' to the 'line drawing' a translation is taking place. Where, or how, this translation takes place is open for discussion. I would say that this all takes place deep within me, and that there is little if any consciousness involved. I have often talked on my blog about my process and particularly that I feel it is both therapeutic and meditative. Therapeutic in the sense that it is healing, contributes to my sense of well being and removes me from any negative thoughts about the world around me. Meditative, in the sense that as soon as I place myself before my easel and before the model then I enter a different perceptual world composed of a number of dialogues (from me to the model, from the model to me, from me into the space of the paper, from me to the marks which appear, and the feedback from those marks) which all combine together to create a 'deep state'. Confirmation of this is that I often, in fact almost every time, I just am unable to recall the act of making the drawing once I stand back to see what has appeared on my paper.

There then arises the question 'Is my line a language?' I think you are accepting that it can be when you say 'You can express form with thick width marks as well as a  0.7 nib both pure abstractions  except a line is not so abstract as a lot of the time it’s about division of the edge of form and space'. I would say that although I accept that there is no such thing as 'an outline' in Nature, I have always believed and maintained that my line does address (within my perception and thinking) the elements of 'shape', 'colour', 'texture', 'form', 'value' and 'space'. I am certain that others may claim the same; e.g. the entirely equal line of the Durer engraving, Ruskin's unvaried black outline and similarly the black line of Egon Schiele. But a line is not simply a line!  A line can be hard, black, soft, of various thicknesses and varied in itself. Above all for me as an architect the line plays a most significant role as I move back and forth between 2-dimensional representation and 3-dimensional interpretation. 

And finally, I wonder what your response is to something I read the other day in a paper on line-drawings: "Tone speaks to the emotions. Line speaks to the mind - or rather it speaks to the emotions through the mind by distilling the idea of the thing". My response is that tone and line are all about marks on paper, and that this is not a simple and straightforward issue and certainly not of a simple and clear distinction. In writing this I have just recalled my thoughts during my first and early visits to you. I felt quite uneasy as I saw that as a 'linearist' I contrasted and did not fit in with you, who I saw as a 'tonalist' (and 'colourist') In fact I rarely responded to your request to the group to pursue a particular technique or approach, e.g.today I want you to use inks with a brush. I just got on with my fine-liner pen. Gradually I felt brave enough to try your requests, but also I believe you acknowledged some of my approach, and at times have been very complementary. Thank you!  However, if one examines the 19 drawings from my last visit it is clear that I was jumping from line to tone, and was at times relating both in one drawing, perhaps with little distinction at times. It is clear to me that my art has benefited from my time with you, and whilst I get great satisfaction from producing a 'good drawing' I would say that it is my insights and understanding of how things appear on my paper together with increased awareness of the mechanisms and complexities of the perceptual and creative process that I find particularly rewarding. 

In the light of these notes I am now looking forward even more to December to see what will take place. And I am sure we may have a moment or two to follow up our thoughts.

 Dear Bob

Yes agree with you about the drawing process being intuitive and unselfconcsious   A concert piano player doesn’t have to look at their fingers, keyboard or score. It’s all about interpretation and expression.  Like drawing it starts in the mind and lands on the paper or keyboard.  It’s good to hear your thoughts from a practitioner’s side. Putting on classes is another mode. I suppose you become a voyeur and delve into other peoples work to see if you can help them out . I have some academic approaches but tend to break them down as I feel drawing is not just an academic exercise but the development of a persons sensibilities , feelings and intuition is more important.

The great thing about the activity is being lost in it , then you can step back and do critical analysis and see if you can steer it on, or develop it.  . You said someone said "Tone speaks to the emotions. Line speaks to the mind - 
That’s true. Tone creates mood and atmospheres largely associated with light , drama etc, I find line extraordinary. In terms of perception  It is pure  abstraction What is a line when its delineates or attaches itself to an object., but  most people do not give it a second thought ? Your one inch brush mark drawing fascinates me. Totally abstract , the marks are not there is reality but it still portrays and speaks.
Drawing below. Is by Jane in the last class. One of the great things about a group is the feed back end how everyone learns off eachother. Your drawings must have encouraged  Jane.. She then took it back and played with it You will notice she just hung it up like a shroud.( is it a shroud ?)   Her head is peeping out the top and both hands holding onto each corner. I was bold over by this transformation. You can read reams into this image The two figures look like they are wrestling or fighting to get out of  a paper bag. It’s a selfie and the  figures become her. Wonderful. In a sense a complete  fluke. Could you contrive this ?  No. But like the creative process it happens but more important is   could it lead ?

Line is a big discussion. If anyone is asked to draw something they will do it in line and this goes back to the cave man or even a child. . It’s second nature and few even give it a second thought or even question it. If you ask someone to draw something without using lines or shadin/ tone ,  then they would  get stuck. Line really depends on what informs it. So the great line draughtsmen and line drawers such  as Matisse , Picasso, Ingres,  Egon Schiel  are only great because 

of what informs their drawings and that required a lot of searching. You have that knowledge from the years you have spent drawing and designing . I find it very difficult to refine things to a pure line. In fact I have rarely tried.  I have admired Ben Nicholson for many years but I shy from his approach. I naturally do a mix of line and tone  and get preoccupied with  light and space, . Here is a drawing I did of St Davids  last week. Not great or perfected,  a sketch I suppose. I just did it. However , I think I got something to come through.  There is a fantastic landscape behind with big hills of rock , left overs from the glacial melt. I actually want to return and develop this subject.

Dear Niel

I like your drawing of St Davids very much. The architectural massing (form and space) is very strong, but the one quality I would never achieve is with light. The light sky over the distant hills contrasting with the deep shadows of the walls in the foreground. This gives great space and depth to the composition. So I note the significance of the mix of line and tone you refer to, and this gives me something to reflect upon and consider to take forward next week.

best wishes

Bob           

PS: I would very much like to post this conversation we have had on my blog. just as I have posted other insights into my process to record the story of my art. Hope you agree to this.

Dear Bob

Yes that’s fine by me you might need to edit it. Thanks for your comments on my drawing   The longer I am away from it the more I  appreciate it . at the time it like being in a boxing ring.

Dear Niel,

Just been reflecting again on 'the line and tone issue' and reminded myself that within my 19 responses to Annie last time there were two pieces of note.......... 

Firstly, the charcoal drawing which although is composed of lines of charcoal marks it is actually all about the search for the gesture of the pose and leaving a record of that search which makes the drawing. Highlight and tone seem to have emerged, but not by intention: 

Secondly, and this I think can be related to the ink brush buttock piece, but a much slower and much more conscious approach by using a block of softish black tinted charcoal to place in the tonal/shadows which were then softened with a tissue and then again emphasised with another application. One or two faint lines were introduced to suggest the upper outline of the pose, and for the eye lashes: 

So, I do depart from my line-only response, and perhaps these are some of my most fascinating pieces? Perhaps time to drop my self-imposed 'linearist' label. Similarly, in seeking a label, I have in the past described myself as a 'cubist'. In the future, I think I will just draw.

Till the next time,

Bob

My art on my smallholding

 

From my A5 note/sketch book:

 One or two notes during the three days in Talgarth:

My hands and feet are frequently acknowledged.

Sometimes our model dozes off.

After Gustave Courbet 'Origin of the World'

And here Annie is relaxing between poses......