New Drawing: Pine Forest
After a very long hiatus, I spent the last couple weeks fully immersed in my craft once again. And it appears that taking a break from painting, and returning to it fully after so long, has forced me to find new ways of being efficient and effective in the creation of art that I am proud of.
And that is my goal: to meet my own standards and produce work that I would want to hang on my walls and that resonates deeply with me.
To do that I am re-learning the vital importance of drawing, and doubling down on my commitment to paint subjects that I love, not what I 'think' will be salable.
In fact, I've learned to see drawing not as "drawing" per se... but as painting with conté crayon. So much so, that I am not going to do a painting of this “Pine Forest” motif. When I imagine this drawing with color laid on top of it (because that is what a painting is... a pattern of dark and light with color laid on top), I sense that this work is complete in it's current form. Color cannot add anything to it.
And I love color! Believe me.
But there's something about how all aspects of the picture come together... the elements in concert with one another, not being separated by differentiation in color: everything operates as a whole.
And this is perhaps the most important thing that I strive for: all the elements of the painting coming together in harmony.
The Old French word for harmony is concorde, meaning: "of the same mind", literally "hearts together."
This process of designing a composition that possess this quality of harmony is what takes most of the time and effort in any given work. Not the "rendering" of a tree so that it looks like a tree, or the light so it looks like light... but the harmony between the patterns, the concordance between all the parts.
As an example (and I wish I'd taken more process shots to illustrate the point even better)... look at the difference between the image of the unfinished drawing (the first image, either on top, or on the left, depending on whether you are on mobile or desktop), and the finished drawing (the second drawing, on the bottom, or on the right).
The difference is subtle I know. You can click on the image to see a larger version. Notice, for instance, the shaping and intensity of light on the pine needles in the upper right, the placement and patterns of form in the foreground, and the presence, or lack of distant trees on the far left.
You can see how in the unfinished image, the elements are in place, all rendered well enough to satisfy the eye. However, the elements do not "complete" one another and hold together in a way that causes an almost automatic relaxation response and the desire to continue gazing at it.
It takes time and patience for me to wrestle with these subtleties to achieve the degree of harmony I want.
When the painting is complete the final organization of the forms seem obvious. But when you're working on it, trying to create harmony out of chaos, it is like wandering through the woods hoping you're compass (intuition) is leading you in the right direction.
It's challenging to be sure. But for me, working from nature, dealing with these subtleties, and striving for this state of harmony is the only way to work. It's what makes the process an adventure.
Tip for artists: To achieve this compositional unity it is helpful to use a mirror to look at the reflection of your painting while you are working on it. Look at your painting in a hand held mirror (in reverse) as often as you can stand to do so. It's tough to get in the habit, but it's well worth the effort.
That's all for me this week! More to come soon...
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