The Art of Drawing: More Than a Prelude

"Summer, Blue and Ochre"
Pastel on Watercolor Paper

As I consider my plans for the coming year, I find myself drawn to my older work in pastel. For fifteen years I worked almost exclusively in pastel on heavy watercolor paper. There is a sheer, tactile delight in laying marks of such highly pigmented color onto a textured surface. While many categorize pastel as a form of painting, I have always viewed it differently. To me it is drawing with color.

Beyond the “Preliminary” Sketch

In the art world, works on paper are often overlooked. Collectors, guided by tradition, can sometimes dismiss them  as preparation for “important” oil paintings. However, a drawing or a painted sketch often possesses a fresh lively quality that can vanish from the highly polished finished work.

To look at a series of drawings is to watch an artist’s mind at work. Akin to becoming acquainted with a subject, it is a process of discovery through experimentation with line and shadow. Beyond their beauty, these smaller works are often more accessible to a buyer on a budget.

A Legacy of Line

Why is drawing so often relegated to a lesser status? Historically, drawing plays an important part in the education of artists whose works are in the collections of museums around the world. In the age of apprenticeships, a student began by  grinding pigments to make paint, preparing surfaces, such as wood panels, canvas, and walls for painting, and also creating the designs, known as cartoons, for large scale murals found in churches and public buildings.
These would-be artists would already have skills in drawing, but under a master the study of drawing would continue. Students would fill notebooks as they learned proportion and perspective. Even after training was complete, artists did not stop drawing. A look through Leonardo’s notebooks reveals the faces of the apostles in his The Last Supper.

Later, formal Ateliers would take the place of apprenticeship and formalize an artist’s training. The foundation was that essential stepping stone, drawing. Students mastered spheres and cubes before progressing to plaster casts, and later a live model. This rigorous training created the masters of proportion and perspective and proportion rooted in classical Greece and the high Renaissance. Even “rule breakers” like Degas and Manet received such a foundation.
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By the mid-20th century, artists had largely abandoned this academic training. With the move away from realism, and in some cases, representational work altogether, drawing became less integral to the creative process. Even when representational work regained popularity, artists did not necessarily use drawing as a part of their process. The Photorealists often projected slides onto the canvas (creating a modern cartoon), and the artist, Janet Fish, considered the arrangement of her still life subjects to be her “drawing.”

However, drawing would not be lost. By the early 21st century, the rebirth of the Atelier brought drawing into prominence once again. Today there are ateliers across the United States and in Europe offering the traditional training in painting and drawing.

Developing a Personal Language

While I did not attend an atelier, my art education was informed by this tradition. I spent more time drawing than painting in my early years, and this remains central to my practice. Whether I am using a brush or a pastel stick, my work is a compilation of hours spent in observation.
My process follows a specific progression:

     Observation: Capturing general shapes and forms to build a composition.

    Discovery: Identifying what exactly caught my eye in the arrangement.

          Mark Making: Using a linear language to convey that interest.

I’ve always found  lines more  dynamic than soft shading; they are the structure of my work. Even when painting, I find myself using a pencil to make changes and corrections. Lines carry weight and create form through their thickness, their value (from light to dark), and their density in a given space.

The Power of the Mark

Each mark communicates something unique. A heavy line creates a boundary or a path for the eye to follow, while a single sharp stroke can be incredibly emphatic. I am particularly fond of layering lines, a technique based on traditional cross-hatching. In pastel, this allows colors to become deeper and more vibrant as they sit atop one another. These active, textured areas are then balanced by the quiet of empty space.
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I have never aimed for high realism of the ateliers. Working representationally allows me to create art centered on found objects I love, whether they come from nature or human hands. Inspired by the creativity and skill of others, I honor their work even as I explore the links of past and present. These layers of cultural creativity are echoed in the layers of mark making. This work expresses my vision of creativity, while offering viewers space to discover their own worlds.

​After all, since no two people  perceive reality exactly the same way, no single vision can be “correct”. Only authentic.

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