Dreams In Pencil

Early on in high school, in a personal effort to explore the hobby of reading, I got myself hooked on fantasy and sci-fi novels.  No real surprise there as I've always been attracted to the strange and unusual.  In fact, the weirder and more surreal, the better.  It was also about this time in my life that I began making the advance in my drawing from line to shade.  I was in the process of developing a style and technique that would enable me to communicate substance and depth apart from the simple and sometimes exclusive use of perspective.  The books I was reading had a strong influence on my imagination and creativity.  And, for guidance, I began to look to the artwork of the then popular fantasy and sci-fi artists of the time.  Their vision had something of a profound effect on me.  As I continued my drawing, I began to look for ways to create surreal images with as realistic an appearance as possible.  I saw that the best way to accomplish this was, on one hand, to disregard many of the "rules" of nature with regard to space (three-dimensional, geometric space as opposed to the celestial variety), while, on the other hand, to try and emulate the actual physical behavior of light with regard to highlights and reflections on objects and surfaces.  My more successful efforts produced some rather pleasant results.

Throughout this period in my life, though I was quite the geek, I was possessed of a rather amorous disposition.  And, though nothing really came of it with respect to relationships, it manifested itself rather profoundly in my artwork.  This made for some interesting images (some of which were deemed worthy of catalog publication).  I found great satisfaction in producing romantic and semi-romantic, surreal images, a few of which were good enough to attract the attention of buyers.  At any rate, in the course of producing these images, I developed some "favorites".  Over time, as my skill increased and improved, I redid some of my favorites with improvements that corresponded to the development of my skill.  Some of them I redid more than once.  One of them I redid three times.  I think it qualifies as an all-time personal favorite.

The latest reproduction of this all-time favorite of mine was done only a few years ago.  The decision to reproduce it came after my discovery of the work of Alphonse Mucha.  I was amazed to find that the style and the composition seen in his work was just what I had been striving for in my own work ever since I started in the direction of the surreal.  Following the influence of his work gave me the inspiration and the idea for just the kind of embellishment I'd hoped for for this image.  From very early on I had been under the impression that there was something of an unspoken and unwritten rule that the elements that I saw in Mucha's work were simply not to be included or combined in any kind of fine art rendition.  Seeing the success and fame of his work with the form of composition that he used gave me a sense of great vindication as I had always wanted to proceed in a similar fashion with my own work.  Not only did he do it, but, his success with what he used far exceeded any dream of mine.

It has literally been decades since I first put this image together.  My "disposition" isn't nearly as "amorous" as it used to be, but, the image is still a great favorite of mine.  So much so, in fact, that it is very possible that I will reproduce it yet again.  I put this image together with thoughts of what I perceived as the beauty of women in more than just the eye of the beholder.  It was my meager attempt to capture as many of the best qualities of a woman as I could manage in a single image.  The attempt falls woefully short of what it should be, but, given what I had to work with and the immature frame of mind I was in, I managed to come up with an image that made what many thought to be an impressive drawing.  The image worked really well for me personally and, as I mentioned, I became attached.  Now, however, it's not so much about how I feel about women, but about how the image affects me personally.  The "surreality" of the image appeals to me deeply.  Looking at it takes me somewhere else.  Somewhere calm and serene.  A place in the presence and company of what I didn't have the sense to look for when I was young.  Something that now resides only in my dreams.      

The Intimacy Of Drawing

I've listened to a lot of people talk about drawing. Some are what I might call mechanical in their references. Outlines are discussed, the structure and the "topography"of the subject are measured and considered, and, in many cases, all that follows are quick, jagged, strokes that portray marked, measured and considered areas of light and dark brought together to form a recognizable image. Now, I understand that this isn't always the case, but, more often than not, it is. From what I've seen, most drawings of this kind are just a stepping stone to something else. Usually, they serve as guides and references for paintings or sculptures. The principle painting or sculpture is where any intimacy experienced by the artist is usually found. Or, at least, this is what's generally told.

Proceeding beyond the stage of outline in drawing can provide an artist with as great a sense of intimacy with the subject as work in any other medium. (And, it's not necessarily dependent on the extent of the artists abilities.) Intimacy between artist and subject, being the subjective experience that it is, is not something for which I care to try and set some kind of standard. It's always been different things to different people. For myself, I find that amount of detail in a drawing can have a dramatic affect on the level of intimacy an artist can experience.

Using a portrait as an example, beginning with the outline, the pursuit of realism to the full extent of the artist's abilities, brings the artist's focus to bear on the lines and curves of the face, neck, and (if the portrait includes as much) the shoulders. The shape and position of the features of the face and head, the way the line of the hair tops the forehead and frames the face, the curve of the cheek and jaw line all show the success or failure in capturing the image of the subject. The pursuit of success in capturing the subject inevitably draws the artist into a deep and thorough exploration of the features of the subject. Now, beyond the stage of outline, the artist explores the contours of the subject with shading. Here, the greater the amount of detail sought, the tighter the focus required. The closer to real the artist tries to come, the more the artist must see. The more the artist sees, the more the artist must account for. Experience provides standard techniques that make the artist more and more familiar with the subtle shades that betray the curves and contours that occur inside the silhouette and have no outline of their own. From the lessons of experience, substance is best shown with a tone (preferably, the lightest one visible) across the whole of any area of like texture (i. e. the skin). In drawing, the application of darker shades becomes smoother when applied to an area already shaded lighter. Gradating shades from lightest tone to dark, rather than from white space to dark, better provides the illusion of substance. Again, applying these tones draws the artist into a deep and thorough exploration of the features of the subject. Strokes in the shades and highlights of the hair in the direction of its flow can provide the illusion of individual strands and a wonderful sense of texture. Experience has shown that the techniques which best facilitate this also call for deep, thorough exploration.

The deep and thorough exploration of the subject is by definition the intimacy of which I spoke earlier. And, if not, then it is the source of it. Now, for myself (and some others, considering what I've heard from them), this is the source of an emotional attachment that develops between and the artist and their work. The few teachers that I've studied under warned of the difficulties of this kind of attachment and counseled against allowing one's self to become so attached to one's work. This is especially prudent if the motivation for doing the work is largely or mostly commercial. But, I submit that, for some (myself included), this "intimacy"is, at the very least, a serious motivator for being an artist in the first place. So, while it may be prudent to rein in one's emotional involvement where commercial transactions are concerned, an artist should be allowed to enjoy the intimacy of their work, in whatever form it is experienced, if for no other reason than the motivation to remain an artist.

The Inspiration Of Deceit

An artist's inspiration is one of the most subjective things I've ever heard of. That inspiration can come from anything, anywhere, at anytime. Even from the experience of being deceived. It can be communicated most effectively through the expression of exquisite detail. For some, images can have more power when they come from someone's hand.

The simplest forms of art done with great effort and detail can have the most profound affect on the viewer. I've seen this for myself with drawings done in ordinary graphite pencil. Light, gentle, circular strokes can portray the soft shade of flawless skin. Varying outlined strokes can mark the dark strands and brightened highlights of wild, wind blown hair. The same circular strokes that produced the smooth shades of a woman's skin, done darkly can produce the subtly varying shades of dark attire sharply outlined by its folds. Drawn and dressed, kneeling and revealing, with the same pencil strokes, she can be given the dark wings of a predator, spread with pride, drawn with great detail, every feather shown and shaded to give the illusion of light bleeding through.

There are those for whom dark inspiration like this calls for a counterpart.