Further Defining Myself as an Artist

I used to be afraid others wouldn’t recognize me as an artist. I was worried that, because I didn’t want to work like them, they wouldn’t like me. My fragile ego couldn’t take the ridicule and I felt ashamed of being looked down upon. However, I’ve never wanted to be just like everyone else. I’ve always wanted to find my own way. And now I am brave enough to stand up and say so and do so!

I never wanted to take traditional classes because the cost was usually more than I could afford, plus I don’t want to practice aspects that I’m not interested in. I only want to know what I need to know. My brain can’t take being boggled down with other stuff. It stifles my creative intuitiveness.

This morning I was thinking about my art style and how I work. One of my joys is the discovery of something new every time I go to the drawing board whether it is in the drawing itself or the photograph being used as a guide.

This got me thinking about traditionally-trained artists. I know and have read about artists who will spend days doing studies of the work they are about to start. They may visit the actual scene a number of times or will take photos and edit them in various degrees to study value, light and shadows. The artists will make numerous sketches or even do underlying (not the right word) paintings before approaching the canvas or whatever they will do the main work on.

My brain would find those techniques tedious and boring, but this is another aspect of what makes art fun. We don’t have to be the same or do things the same way! I love hearing about other artists’ processes. It really is interesting to hear/read what each one goes through to accomplish their goals in the creative pieces.

My style has me taping the drawing paper onto a board with the photo(s) taped nearby. I glance over the picture to give me perspective on where to start the basic lines and I dive in laying the initial preliminary light sketch and some shadow. I work in short stints of about 15-20 minutes. My focus narrows for just those few minutes and then I pop up for air.

I step back a lot and when I start to feel unhappy with the progress, I’ll move onto another. I usually have three drawings going on at the same time. One day I might move back and forth between the three and another day might be spent on one. This process keeps me satisfied with at least one of the drawings and I know the end result of all three will be amazing. My time done for the moment, I head back to my desk.

In process drawing; sometimes even when looking at a photo of
the drawing I will notice something needing to be changed --
in this case, the horizon. In these cases I always wonder why
I didn't notice before.

The surprise is when I come back. Every time I walk into the studio, I find something to change/add/erase, and when I’m on the air walker, I’ll be looking over the drawings and the photos. I notice aspects I’d not seen earlier whether on the drawing itself or the photo. It’s almost like my eyes need to re-adjust. I love these moments. It’s like finding a treasure and I jump into the drawing with new enthusiasm.

Those surprises are exciting and bring a uniqueness to my style. It’s almost like a give and receive as if the drawing is working with me. Sometimes I don’t feel I’m in control, and for a few seconds, something else takes over and is guiding my hand. (Of course, when my mind realizes that’s happening, it stops.) 

Working with charcoal and pastels has health issues because of the soft consistency. The particles get in the air and are easily breathed in. I find wearing a dust mask claustrophobic and hot. When I worked with charcoal alone, I wore latex gloves to protect my hands, but with pastels, it’s easier to wipe my bare fingers when changing colors. Yes, I wash my hands a lot. These are health considerations that I accept as part of working in a medium that brings me much joy.