Seeing the model through the material

ink and pastel on pastel ground on paper 16 x 16 cm

I was describing to my friend, Jo, today about how when I draw I feel I am struggling against the materials. It is as if through the struggle I make sense of what I am seeing. It seems like the material I use results in a different way of seeing the subject. 

Today at life drawing in Sudbury as I prepared my materials for a three hour session, I decided on ink and pastels.  Jason Bowyer held a workshop in the summer and I found mixing those materials was an exciting lens to look through.  I think tonally and about the shapes and as I work and layer marks, colours and tones on top.

ink and pastel on pastel ground on paper 16 x 16 cm

ink and pastel on pastel ground on paper 17 x 25 cm

ink and pastel on pastel ground on paper 16 x 16 cm

ink and pastel on pastel ground on paper 14 x 13 cm

On Friday I went back to the NEAC life drawing class with Mick Kirkbride.  I thought we would be working in one of the gallery spaces and so did Mick so when it was changed back tot he usual space which is smaller, we had a bit of a squeeze to fit and I opted to sit in a chair to help out. I was looking up at the model.  The lights had been taken down but I liked my view and the lighting was fine for me. I began in charcoal and moved onto pastel.

charcoal on paper 20 x 30 cm 

Mary, the booked model, had goofed and was not in the country so we had a stand-in model at the last second. Roberta had modeled years ago but had not modeled in ten years - she was fabulous on Friday. Someone said she was like a statue and that's why I decided to do the second drawing, from the same place in my London altered sketchbook: The Silent Traveller in London' on the page about statues.

Since making the scans below I have recalibrated my colour profile so the images below are not very good… Still they show monotypes made last week in life drawing where I struggle the most to amek the material become the model.

montype 10 x 20 cm

Urban and Rural Landscapes

Wet Field Combs, pastel on paper, 16 x16 cm

I sat in the landrover today and twisted myself into a position where I could see the view from the verge. There are signs all over that say CONSERVATION Keep off. This is new.  If I'd had my plein air easel I would have been able to position myself and to stand.  As it was I was cramped but warm and protected from the howling wind. 

The clouds raged across the sky and sometimes it was white and blue and sometimes it seemed to threaten rain and go all grey. I caught it somewhere between the two.  The unploughed field looked brown and red and blue and purple and yellow and then on the verge in front, there should have been grass but it was puddling and muddy in the middle. I kept thinking about Barbara Rae.

My mother loves the trees when they are leafless. Patrick and Juliet can identify them by shape.  I just find them a little sad.  I met someone at a preview in Colchester, not long ago, who told me he only paints unbeautiful things.  Today when I was drawing in the car I felt the view was so beautiful that no matter what, I was on the verge of schmaltz. Perhaps beauty is the curse of the rural landscape for this slightly cynical New Yorker?

Rainy Museum Day, pastel on altered book page, 9 x 12.5 cm 

Meanwhile, before Christmas I was in London nursing a rotten cold, visiting exhibits and hauling my supplies for drawing from pillar to post. At one point I sat in the National Gallery near a window and drew the wet weather.  It was a pencil drawing as I learned that you need special permission to use pastels or watercolour in the National Gallery. Using my sketch and a photo I took, I tried to evoke that November moment, today. 

I hate the idea of drawing buildings.  Perspective makes me a little sick, because I don't know any and all those angles overwhelm me.  I could read a book and learn but that would be at odds with my teaching, so I struggle… The thing is,  I love breaking the paper up with angles so it's a bit of a catch 22. And I guess city drawing can be less (on the surface) beautiful so you need to really commune with it to find something to say!

Happy Dark Leaved Dahlia

Happy Dark Leaved Dahlia, pastel on altered book page

When it's really busy I play a game with myself where I am absolutely focused getting things done and fritter away time in equal measure. Picking flowers isn't exactly essential, but can I refrain from doing it? There is this dahlia that Marshall's seeds refers to as 'Dark Leaved Dahlia - Happy Yellow Red Bicolour'.  

Patrick and I agree that it sticks out like a sore thumb in the garden and I think I will dig it up in the autumn but I couldn't help resist picking it for my bouquet. It's that thing where you need to love the thing you hate. Even in my little altered sketchbooks, titles are important to me. Obviously when I saw what Marshalls said about it I needed to name my little drawing after it.  And I was happy, putting aside the mountain of chores, to think in colour.