Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
DRAWING IS NATURAL
Everyone with normal intelligence can learn to draw! You can learn! How well? It is not so easy to guess that. Not all of us have equal talent. You perhaps haven't it in you to become a Rembrandt (how many have?), but you certainly can gain mastery enough to bring you a lot of fun, while at the same time producing some really commendable work.
Why am I so sure? Because I have seen so many "average" individuals — folks with no marked aptitude — succeed at the thing you want to do. In my hobby classes, for instance, I have had debutantes and dentists, brokers and bricklayers, millionaires and manicurists, socialites and stevedores, and can honestly state that every individual who has stuck to the thing for a reasonable length of time has made worthwhile progress. A few, to be sure, have abandoned their attempts, with their confidence for some reason shaken, but their fault has usually been impatience rather than inability.
"But," you say, "these students were in a class. Can you assure me like progress if I work without a teacher?" A capable teacher is of great help, of course, yet one can advance quite a distance soundly and surely even if forced to proceed alone. He must learn to judge the merits and faults of his own work, however — suggestions are later offered along these lines — and will need to seize every opportunity for constructive criticism by others. And he is advised to form or join a club such as is discussed in Chapter 2.
I have claimed that freehand drawing is not particularly difficult. And why should it be? In childhood it almost invariably proves a mode of expression almost as natural as the spoken or written word. See Figure 1. Rarely, indeed, do we find the youngster who does not draw with what, all things considered, could be called real skill. It is only as he grows older and becomes more self-conscious that he lessens or abandons his efforts at the employment of what has been so aptly termed a "universal language." Often as he begins to compare his drawings seriously with those by more mature or more talented individuals he discovers in them what he thinks to be glaring faults or shortcomings, and so is discouraged from further attempts. Or, again, he sets up false and unattainable standards. Perhaps, for instance, he gets the erroneous idea that things must be expressed with almost photographic accuracy. Failing in this, he foolishly believes himself poor at drawing.
If your thought is to draw for fun, why set too high — or, at least, too professional — standards? At any rate, at first? You want to work on a sound basis, of course, but you can do that and still be free from any notion of trying to compete with the genius or the expert who has spent years in developing his skill. In other words, rid yourself for the present of the desire for professional attainment and set about sketching the things you want to sketch in just the way your capacity permits. You may desire to draw your cat or dog. All right, sail in! Draw father or mother, the canary or the goldfish, following one of the methods described in the coming chapters — whichever one seems natural to you. But don't expect too much! It's platitudinous but true to say that the development of skill in anything worth while demands effort. This despite the fact that "draw the right line in the right place and success is assured." As your skill increases, you will automatically raise your standards. And please believe me when I tell you once more that, whatever your first results, you will ultimately "get there" if you persevere. I've seen the thing happen over and over again.
Before you begin, try to free your mind of any thought that there is mystery to the phase of representative drawing which interests us. For there is not. There is a bit of magic of a sort (see Chapter 3) but this is far from incomprehensible. As was mentioned in the preface, the thing can be reduced to a few easily understood A B C's which we shall investigate one at a time. Once we grasp these, the rest is mainly a matter of practice.
CHAPTER 2
FORMING A SKETCH CLUB
The hobbies that people enjoy the most are those they practice in groups. It's when the stamp collectors go into a huddle, each anxious to show his recent acquisitions, that they are really happy. And the same is usually true of those who sketch.
So you, Mister Beginner, no matter how sensitive and self-conscious you may be about your efforts, must not fall into the all-too-common mistake of working the whole time by yourself — at least not for long. For if you do, I fear you'll soon lose your fine enthusiasm. If you are under a competent teacher, that is different, though even then a friend or two studying with you will prove a stimulating and steadying influence.
Lacking a teacher, by all means get a few congenial spirits together and form a little club. Unless, of course, you can find a suitable one already established. Meet at least once a week. Do some sketches between times and when you meet put them on the wall for comparison. Discuss them unsparingly, every member expressing an opinion. Also bring in some experienced person now and then, if possible, to give you constructive criticism. And sketch at your meetings, too. Set up objects and work from them, later comparing sketches. Try sketching one another. Let your embryo portraitists pose one fellow so his silhouette is thrown on a screen, the others trying for a likeness.
Another thought is for you to do together some of the exercises suggested in this book. Again, turn through books and magazines and discuss the illustrations. Have a member read aloud from some art book, and follow this reading by general discussion. Go in a group to museums and galleries, talking over the things you see. Now and then, when a lot of sketches have been made, hold a larger exhibit. Vote on their relative merits. Argue over their faults. Organize prize contests to stimulate interest.
And don't overlook outdoor sketching trips for the club and for yourself: see Chapter 32. Perhaps you can make your next vacation a sketching journey. If you can get some fellow members to go with you, so much the better.
The club idea is sometimes extended to include more people than do the limited groups I have so far had in mind. We even have community sketching clubs. My friend Frederick J. Griffin, of Newark, New Jersey, for example, some years ago formed the Forest Hill Sketch Club (of which I am proud to be an honorary member), and has large groups of various ages doing, in many media, all sorts of subjects such as landscapes, figures, still life, etc. Griffin sends us a good tip, by the way, when he says, "and don't forget that a few refreshments are sometimes just as vital as pencils or paints."
Would that this community movement could become country wide, not only for the fun it would produce and the sketching skill it would engender, but because of its general aesthetic value. If it could be made to reach all classes, it would help to raise America's none-too-high standards of taste.
CHAPTER 3
REALISM OR CONVENTIONALITY?
Many beginners hold the impression that the more naturalistic a drawing is, the better. This is not so. The most naturalistic result of which the artist is capable is the painting in full color — the realistic portrait or landscape, for example, — which in effect is not unlike the full color photograph. Such a painting has no more artistic merit, ofttimes (nor is it any more convincing), than some far less literal interpretation. Frequently the contrary is true. Just as color can be omitted by the sculptor from a figure in marble without disturbing our aesthetic sensibilities, so the artist can do without it in a painting or drawing, as at A, Figure 2. Again, the tones of light and dark (values) can be treated in a highly conventional manner, as at B, or actually done away with, as at C, without offense to the eye. Forms can be changed, too, as is frequent in decorative work. For an example, see D.
All of which proves what? That you, my reader, could, if you would, draw successfully — yes, even become a professional — without ever correctly picturing natural color, tones of light and shade, or form! You don't have to compete with the camera.
For such purposes as this volume emphasizes, however, forms are usually kept close to realism, though colors and values are not. As a beginner, then, your first and main job is to master the correct representation of form.
Perhaps I should continue this discussion sufficiently to point out that even if the artist so desired he could not hope to represent all of nature's infinite variety of line, form, and color. For example, white paper or canvas, or the brightest of pigments, cannot be expected to portray adequately the brilliancy of sunshine, which is far lighter and more dazzling than white. Nor can they catch the animation of many other hues with which nature is so lavish, — think of the scintillating richness of the wing of a living butterfly! Again, the size of the surfaces on which the artist works is too limited to permit a full portrayal of all the details of such a subject as a typical landscape. And so on.
Hence it is that the artist, recognizing this impossibility of true and complete representation, has learned to satisfy himself with a translation (which is usually simplified and indicative), leaving it to the imagination of his audience to supply any such things as may be lacking. He has aptly been likened to the magician: by tricks of suggestion he creates on his plain, flat, two-dimensional surface, illusions of three-dimensional effects — relief, distance, detachment, etc. And, to repeat, he has developed as a part of this translation certain conventionalities such as those just discussed, most of which even the layman accepts without question. So you will follow a well mapped path whenever you utilize that common convention of substituting, for the complex colorings of nature, tones of white, gray, and black. This same convention is, of course, common to ordinary photography, where again it does not disturb us. And you have ample precedent for the employment of outline, a thing which, though natural to man (witness such early drawings by children as we showed in Figure 1), is unknown in nature.
I have emphasized these points to make absolutely clear that the artist, whether amateur or expert, need not try to be too exact and complete — too photographic — in his interpretations.
Possibly I should further mention that it is doubtful if the artist, even if he could, would often make a truly realistic representation. Though he doesn't mind deriving his inspiration from nature, he is enough of a creator so that he wishes to reinterpret it in his own way. If a dozen artists paint the same subject from the same point of view (as sometimes happens in advanced classes), the results are all different, mainly because each, before he puts his impressions on canvas, filters them through his mind, his painting being modified as the result of that filtration. One seeks to interpret the dazzle of the sunshine; another the movement of the air; still another the chromatic symphony, and another the play of light and shade. In other words, each seeks to catch the spirit of the scene before him (as it appeals to him), rather than the hard facts. And he dips his brushes into a bit of memory and imagination along with his pigments. So you, too, can give emphasis always to such elements of your subject matter as hold the greatest interest and mould them to your desires while omitting or subordinating the rest.
CHAPTER 4
WHERE TO START
Now just where and how shall we tackle this drawing business? How much of realism shall we employ, and how much of conventionality?
Usually (for a time, at any rate) we attempt considerable realism so far as form is concerned, as was mentioned in the previous chapter. We aim, in other words, to draw shapes as we see them. In doing this we must try to free our minds from misconceptions as to the appearance of different things. We must remember, to illustrate, that circles do not always look circular, but, under many conditions, elliptical. In like manner, squares do not always seem square. Much depends on the angle from which we view such things, or, stated differently, on the angle at which they are turned.
Form appearances and their representation being all important, we shall make them our first consideration. As a practical approach, I urge you to carry out the following exercises. They will give you a bit of drawing practice, and, what is more to the point, they will help you to see — to see with the brain as well as with the eye — at the same time getting you away from these misconceptions just mentioned.
A plain sheet of glass will be your first drawing surface. See Figure 3. It should preferably be in a frame or bound around with tape to protect the hands.
Your job is to try to represent upon it the shapes of such everyday objects as any home will yield — bottles, jugs, books, toys, vegetables, etc. If you can learn to draw such things, you can draw anything. The principle is the same because all shapes, whether large or small, have basic similarities. Many show close relationship to cubes, cylinders, pyramids and other geometric solids (or combinations of them). Incidentally, almost any object, no matter how commonplace, takes on new interest once it is chosen as a subject to draw.
Tracing on glass. So select a simple object and place it a few feet away against a plain background where it can show to advantage. Don't have distracting things nearby. Seat yourself comfortably, facing the object and preferably with a little table before you (Figure 3). Hold your glass upright (resting on the table for steadiness) in such a position that you can look through it at the object. Remember your purpose is to catch its form correctly, so, with one eye closed (to prevent a double image), trace its profile and main subdivisions on the glass, using a china marking or lithographic pencil; a school wax crayon will do. Sit still and hold the glass steady. At best you can't make a perfect line, but don't worry about that. Any major fault can be wiped away with a damp rag and redrawn. (The wax crayon may require soap.) Your final result, if we except the unpreventable waver of the lines, will be a correct outline drawing of the object as it appears from your particular point of view. From any other point it would look different, a fact you can easily verify by shifting your position and repeating the exercise. As you complete each sketch, lay your glass on white paper in order to study the proportions to best advantage.
Make many of these tracings, using all sorts of subjects. Try furniture and room corners. Similarly, go to the window and trace on your glass (or on the windowpane) some object you see through it. Then another and another, including buildings, trees, etc. Keep one eye closed. The glass should not be foreshortened: in other words, you should be so facing it that the imaginary "line of sight" from eye to object intersects it approximately at right angles; otherwise the tracing may appear distorted.
Drawing on glass. This tracing of things, whether indoors or out, is of only limited value. Its main virtue is that it helps you to see what forms really look like and what a correct drawing of form really is: further, it stimulates your observation in other directions.
But now comes your first real drawing fun, where you learn how nature can fool you with appearances. Your job is to try to keep from being fooled. Make the thing a game. Lean your glass, with a sheet of white paper or cardboard beneath it, against the edge of the table, just as you would drawing paper, or place it on top, so pitched that you can view its surface approximately at right angles. Best of all, lay it on a drawing board (a plain pine board about 16"x 22" is ideal, and will prove useful for many purposes). With both eyes open, draw on the glass (don't trace as before) the outline of some previously selected simple object placed not more than a few feet away. Get the major proportions as accurate as you can. Further hints along these lines are offered in Chapter 5: they are scarcely needed yet.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Sketching as a Hobby"
by .
Copyright © 1963 William Guptill and Ann Cooke.
Excerpted by permission of Dover Publications, Inc..
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
