Art training: the evolution of my painting surfaces.

An observation.

In the first year in art school, I bought Ampersand panels, dutifully gessoed them, and painted on them. Too scared to try anything else, I used only the first surface I was introduced to.

In second year of art school, I bought linen, cotton, more expensive wooden panels, thicker wooden panels, and just went nuts on surfaces. I said I was experimenting, but really, I couldn’t hold off on buying a new genre of art supply. Oh the joys of a sophomoric year!

Then in third year in art school, I cut up some cardboard boxes, gesso the heck out of them, and paint… because who has the money, the time or the space??

As I progress in my art training, the painting surfaces get cheaper, the brushes get better.

my pencils

After two years of drawing, I have amassed a graveyard of pencils:

  

To my delight, however, I realized I now possess the awesome pencil sharpening abilities that will allow me to make more use out of these pencils. I can now go halfway into the black tip on those Steadtler pencils. It’s like discovering a hundred dollar bill under the mattress… oh so much uncovered graphite!

What the heck, here are more assemblages of my pencils…

my portable pencil case, always with me:

My back up pencil case I use to change from soft to hard or hard to soft pencils depending on what the drawing demands:

 

And finally, my treasured graphite set:

The whirlpool world perturbs me not as long as I have stocked up on sharp-able pencils.

Tabula rasa: daily painting woes

Since I last wrote in this blog, I started painting in oil. I paint almost everyday now… although that doesn’t mean I get to paint hours and hours each day mainly because painting is hard, makes me hungry, and gives me a gigantic headache. So there are days when it comes down to a 30 minute session, most of which is spent playing with my palette and admiring the new funky sheen used wooden palettes acquire.

Drawing is painful but painting is a whole new torture. There, of course, is the issue of seeing color but there is also the material… all those pigments, solvents, brushes, and surfaces. It is incredibly hard to stare at the subject, take five minutes to make a color that isn’t even close, try the color anyway to find that it actually looks different on the panel, and start all over again. I feel stagnant: like some Greek myth character, I may have been condemned to try all combinations and permutations of value, hue, and chroma until I die.

I paint daily and daily I want to quit. Yet the next day, I would be going about my day and then get this feeling that I want to paint everything. In the midst of that euphoric excitement, the finished painting is palpable… then when I actually sit down to do my color studies, the overwhelming frustration returns. But it is ultimately that feeling, the desire to paint everything, that causes me to try again.

This is a feeling I do not understand. And it does bother me that I do not quite know why I want to paint. A short, lovely, and profound book I read this week, Hawthorne on Painting, started giving me some clues. He never answers my question directly, but he does show me the enthusiasm of a painter as someone who is forever a student who searches for beauty and aims to represent it with utmost integrity. And maybe I want to paint because I want to be a painter.

Tabula rasa: the acceleration of time in art class.

One of the reasons why I felt somewhat iffy about taking Michael Grimaldi’s life drawing class at the Art Students League is the way time is marked off in this class: the shorter pose is two weeks and the longer one is four weeks. I could not fathom drawing the same pose for two weeks, let alone the logistics of setting that up (there is tape to mark of the placement of the feet).

And indeed it was initially quite challenging to adjust to the passage of time. The twenty minutes drawing increment felt like an eternity filled with starring at the model, making tentative marks, and scratching my head over why the marks don’t add up to the living breathing model in front of me. The breaks are then filled with starring at other people’s drawings and feeling completely inadequate. The timer goes off while I furiously erase away the remnants of failure. The silence descends on the huge studio and the process renews.

What the other people do in that hushed hollowed silence was a mystery to me. Seemingly random lines come together and the paper pulsates with life. My own enormous 18 x 24 in sketchpad, however, felt overwhelming and oppressive. I thought I would surely have a nightmare about gesture, proportion, and perspective.

Then today, a month later, I noticed an acceleration in time. 20 minutes pass before I have finished my train of thought. And I am anxious about finishing my drawing by the end of the week, the end of my two week pose.

During the long break, I got antsy about drawing and worked on the shading. By habit, I held my pencil out to check the tilt of a shadow shape. The model was not there and I was profoundly embarrassed. But I was mostly shocked at these new habits being instilled in me without my noticing them.

The seductive nature of the drawing process scares me. Drawing was something I always wanted to learn… I envisioned myself carrying a sketchbook around for the rest of my life and putting down some visual thoughts. How cool is that? I can have a great excuse to buy Moleskine sketchbooks. Oh I had no idea that drawing is an all consuming vortex.

I also hadn’t realized how much time it takes to actually learn how to draw. Here are the things people in my class have said to me in separate occasions over the past month and yes, I gasped to all of these statements:

It takes:

• 1 year to see that you are not seeing.
• 1-2 years to start managing anxiety.
• 2 years to learn the basics taught in this class.

I honestly though I would “learn to draw,” whatever that means, in a few months, ya know, give it a summer. Now I can totally envision myself learning to draw for the rest of my life.

Drawing seems to me not a set of skills or a craft, but a method of analysis, one that you cannot exhaust the use of in a lifetime. Besides, art is so insidious. It is permeating all aspects of my cognitive world. For example, I carefully avoided physiology in college (not all that easy as a biology major) only to learn anatomy in an art class. I see shadow shapes everywhere. Drawing is becoming and obsession. And I am not sure if that is a good thing.

*****

Yay—two books were waiting for me when I got home: Atlas of Human Anatomy for the Artist by Stephen Rogers Peck, and The Art Spirit by Robert Henri. When I first started this class, I found refuge in the recommended reading list because even though I can’t draw, I can read. I mean why draw when you can read all about it? I am somewhat kidding, yet it is still true that books are way less intimidating than the easel.

tabula rasa: learning to draw; learning to see.

I drew for one month at the Art Students’ League. It’s been a rollercoaster. Initially, I was anxious and exhilarated by a new craft. Then when the newness wore off, I started despairing at my inadequacies. I got paranoid thinking my brain was just wired in a funny way that prevented me from seeing what everyone else was seeing. How else do I explain that I see only the light and the dark when everyone else sees myriad values?

Dare I say that I am beginning to see some progress both in my observations and drawings? Not only that, drawing has been a good exercise in managing my anxieties and insecurities. I am still not sure if I will ever be able to have a holistic understanding of the drawing process. But I like this process of putting down line after line with intention, and analytically and strategically putting together the multiple languages.

The other thing I learned was to calm down a bit. It is so embarrassing to be in my class full of talented and/or experienced people. And it is so daunting to stare at the living breathing model and then at my blank paper which progresses into incoherent lines which then progresses into deadening tones. Still, after a while, things work out and the joy of correcting even a tiny thing and making the drawing better is incomparable to any other highs.

I was off this week from drawing in the studio. So I drew simple objects to my heart’s content… and even that wasn’t super successful. So I am already a little anxious about Monday when I go back to figuring out the figures.

Still, I think I will stick with it. I am not quite sure why. I can go into five six reasons why I decided to start drawing… but then I wouldn’t know which answer is the true one. I think for now, I won’t overthink it, which is really hard for me to do. All I know is that I find drawing to be way more interesting, challenging, and exhilarating than I had ever imagined it would be. In fact, this is probably the most intellectually and cognitively arduous process I have ever attempted. So I will get my pencils in varying hardness I have no idea what to do with, and continue to make some bad lines that I hope will turn out decent as time goes by.

In the meantime, I will chronicle my experience of drawing here… and label those posts “tabula rasa,” which is what one of my classmates called me. She said it’s good to be a beginner and learn to draw in our class. I hope she’s right… that all the good instruction isn’t wasted on me. So here I go learning to see the world anew.