Two weeks into the new routine now and I think I might be starting to adjust. My ‘practice time’ spreadsheetis looking a little healthier this week at nine hours (last week was six) so things are heading in the rightdirection. Not quite the twenty I’m aiming for still, but I’m accepting now that it’s going to take a little whileto build up to that. Encouragingly, I wasn’t completely wiped out this weekend and managed to get a bit of drawingdone today along with setting up a new still life.
For today’s drawing session I got out my train drawings from the last couple of weeks and set them up on theeasel so I could finish them off sight size. The more I work with sight size the more I’m convinced of itsusefulness. Although it seems to have become synonymous with strict accuracy and the classical approach todrawing, it needn’t be.
As soon as I set my drawings up and stood back from them, with the originals beside them, mistakes in the largeshapes jumped out at me. Errors which are hard to spot when you have a drawing on your lap become screamingly obviousfrom a distance. Perhaps it’s partly due to the fact that the details aren’t as obvious when you’re standing well back(about six feet or so for me) but I think it’s more to do with the fact that both the original and the copy falleasily into the focus area of vision. It’s much easier to compare and the overall impression takes over fromthe detail. I think this effect is the most important one in sight size work, whether you’re working for perfectaccuracy or not.
At its root, I think this is what sight size is really about. Darren Rousar over atsight-size.com will tell you that it’s a philosophy of seeing, not a measurementtechnique. I think it’s easy to forget that and to become wrapped up in the details. It’s an approach more than it’sa technique.
It seems particularly apt that I finished these drawings off sight size, since Sargent himself is one of the mostfamous proponents of the approach. Although he apparently did these portrait drawings with the paper on his lap, he’dalready been working sight size on portraits for many years. I’m sure that will have influenced how he worked even whenhe wasn’t drawing sight size.
The thing which has struck me most whilst I’ve been copying these drawings is how much Sargent simplifies. Large areas ofthe faces, the planes in the light, are often left with no drawing on them at all. There must have been many nuances of toneall across those areas, but Sargent has simplified, paring these drawings down to their bare essentials. His portrait drawingsare a lesson in economy. They’re not without subtlety however. The half-tones are often no more than a whisper of tone acrossthe paper, and I must say it’s stretched my ability to handle a pencil to get such fine gradations.
The technique I’ve beenusing is to hold the pencil right at the back, the opposite end to the point, very loosely. By gently resting the point on thepaper, laying it sideways and drawing from the wrist, I managed to come perhaps somewhere near the subtle tones of the original.But what’s really surprised me is how much those light whispers of tone can mould the form, how much difference theymake to the feeling of form in the drawing.
First up today is the copy of Mrs. Swaim I started last week. This drawing suffered a little from having one of our catsscrabble about on it, leaving smudges and paw prints all over it, but I pulled it back as best I could:
Lots of mistakes in this one, particularly down her right cheek and eye, and I’ve lost the form of her left cheek.
Last week when I posted I’d just started the drawing of Myra Hess. I did some more on this one onthe train, and finished it today. I think I did a little better with this one. Of all the drawings in the Sargent book, thisone has always fascinated me. There’s something about her expression. She seems to be half-smiling, but also slightly sad. Shehas an almost quizzical expression, as if she’s trying to size the viewer up and there seems to be a deep intelligence abouther. Apparently she was a British pianist who was famous for putting on concerts during the second world war, playingthrough the blitz.
The last one today was started and finished this week. I have to say I really struggled with the profile on this one. PerhapsI should have started it sight size and finished it on the train instead of the other way round. The chin recedes too much andthe nose is too long:
I’ve really enjoyed these drawings and they’ve been a great way to keep my hand in without doing anything too strenuous. I findthe morning commute, which is about an hour and fifteen minutes, seems to flash by as I sit drawing in a little bubble of concentration.I even managed to do a bit of drawing standing up on the train this week. Not easy, but just about possible.
I’ve also been thinking a lot about different approaches to drawing. Drawing is always an abstraction of reality, more thinking thananything else. What an artist chooses to leave out can be as important as what’s put into the drawing, but there are also many differentways to approach the same problem. The last two drawings I’m posting today are also copies, done on the train and finished sight size laterat home, in the same way as these Sargent copies. What I think is particularly interesting about them is the different way that similarsubjects have been handled.
Both are heads in profile. The first is a copy of a Bargue drawing (from the Bargue Drawing Course),and is a combination of line drawing and tone, with a stronglystated outline down the profile. There’s no difference in value between the face and the background, only the outline shows the edge ofthe form. It’s an abstraction of reality. The drawing is also very graceful and highly idealised, full on classical beauty.
This drawing was a real struggle to copy. The subtlety with which Bargue draws is a never ending source of amazement to me. Had I notembarked on the Bargue drawing course I would have little appreciation of what a superbly skilled draughtsman Bargue really was.
No matterhow I tried, I couldn’t match the original for subtlety of tonal gradation and line. Actually, I didn’t even get close. Those of youwith a copy of the Bargue book will be able to check this against the original and see for yourselves. And I really, really tried.
The second is a copy of a drawing by William M. Harnett. Harnett is much better known for histrompe l’oeil still life paintingsof violins and such, and his approach is very different. Instead of the classical grace of the Bargue drawing, he stresses a much more realistic, moretrue to life approach. He’s more concerned with the individuality of the sitter than with an ideal, this is a portrait and he’s much morerealist than classical.
But despite being more concerned with the optical effect than Bargue, this drawing is still an abstraction of reality. If you’d asked me acouple of years agowhether I liked realism more than classicism, I would have said the former without any hesitation. Philosophically I suppose I still leanthat way. Buthaving copied a few of the first plates from the Bargue drawing course, and having copied the drawing above, I’ve come to appreciate classicism muchmore. It’s a different way of thinking about drawing and painting, and whilst it’s apparent ties to the establishment and the nineteenth century artelite might make it unpopular in these more democratic times, it really requires just a little more effort and familiarity to appreciate I think,much like classical music.
There can’t be a better way to gain that appreciation than to copy the work itself. Copying a drawing makes you think about every line, youwonder what the artists were thinking at each point, what their concerns were and what they were trying to achieve. And in the case of Barguein particular, I’ve personally gained a new found respect for the sheer level of skill that went into his work. That’s been the most useful thingabout these train drawings for me. Of course I get to practice judging shapes and distances, I stretch my ability to see, but I also start to getan idea of how Sargent approached his subjects, what he looked for and emphasised. I’m itching to do some real world portrait drawing now, sohopefully I’ll be able to find some time to start doing some self portraits again. Maybe I can get Michelle to sit for me again sometimes atthe weekends.
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Paul, I think the one concept that really got hammered home for me over the past year has been the importance of viewing and judging my drawings from a distance, as epitomized by sight-size. For tone as well as contour, I’m amazed at how blind I am when I’m sitting right on top of the drawing working on it.
I realized this in school when I was scanning my work to post online, and wondering why the tiny thumbnails of my work looked so awful when I thought the drawings were good. No, the thumbnails show you the cruel truth: what your work REALLY looks like. So you have to view it at thumbnail-size in real life, i.e. stand back from it frequently, make your decisions, then go in and implement them, and stand back again to judge how you did.
Now I want to work some of those Sargent drawings too. It’s one of my favorite books, and in fact I learned of his drawings before I was really cognizant of his paintings. Don’t tell anybody. 🙂
Wonderful drawings, as always, Paul. 🙂
Here’s my question, though – shouldn’t holding the paper on your lap create distortion when you copy a drawing? I’ve always thought it did and yet I can’t find any evidence of it in your drawings here. Here I am again, always wanting descriptions or photos of The Artist At Work… 🙂
Good job with working on the train and the drawings are looking awesome…I too sometimes find my day getting immensely busy and I am riding all over town on my motorcycle doing things…I find that these rides on the bike and waits in long traffic jams give me all the practise i need in practising the indian classical music scales. I think this is a valuable lesson for those who have long practises in limited time…to be able to utilize down time in the day like commutes for the time required for classical art training
Steve, I’ve had a very similar experience to you. When I started this site and started making thumbnails it struck me how much more clearly I could see when things were off when I made the little thumbnail images. Seeing your work reduced is indeed a harsh critic.
I think sight size has been the single most helpful thing I’ve discovered over the last three years or so. It’s so incredibly useful and so effective, I find it strange that it’s not taught in schools these days (apart from the the classical schools and ateliers of course).
>Don’t tell anybody. 🙂
LOL! I promise I won’t, that’s strictly between us two 🙂
Hi Linda, that’s a good point about the distortion. It doesn’t seem to happen though. I wonder if it’s because since I have the drawing and the original side by side on my lap, so they’re distorted to the same degree? I do try to prop them up a little by laying them on my lap top bag, but they’re still not quite straight on to me.
I must admit I’ve been considering trying to construct some kind of fold away lap top easel, but that might be getting a bit too obsessed!
Thanks Arjuna. I’ve got a mental picture of you now sitting on your bike singing into your helmet. I bet you get some strange looks at traffic lights. But it’s true, it’s surprising how much you can get out of those parts of the day that might otherwise seem like wasted time. How are your Bargues coming on?
I’ve been doing the sight size drawings since I read about it on your blog. It is very helpful, though I can’t get back far enough as my studio is so small.
One of the things I remember from early art lessons (in the 50’s) is the instructor putting the stool between us and the easel so we couldn’t get too close. I think of this guiltily when I work on my lap.
Judy
Hi again Paul,
What can I say, superb work.
I assume these drawings are about done on A6 size paper,if so, how do you start or even correct them using the sight-size approach.
I tend to see the Bargue copies as no smaller than A4 or as large as A3.
I suppose what I’m getting at is the actual size of the drawings, the smaller the format e.g. A6 the harder it is to see the minute changes in tone or line.
Either way Paul, I think they’re blindingly good copies.
Keep it up,
Sean
>I’ve been doing the sight size drawings since I read about it on your blog.
That’s very cool Judy! And I’m glad to hear you’re finding it useful. True, space can be a problem. I’d like to get further back than I can but I find it doesn’t matter so much for small pieces. A full length portrait sight size would be impossible in my little room.
>putting the stool between us and the easel
I think that’s a good idea too. I keep my palette and paints on a table between me and my easel which has much the same effect.
Thanks Sean, that’s very nice to hear. The drawings are done in an A5 sketchpad mostly, but the last two I posted are A4.
I should clarify that I’m not doing these strictly sight size like a Bargue. I do draw right up at the easel sometimes too, for the details. Come to think of it, I do that for the details on the Bargues too. But I’m always well back to check the overall effect, the balance of the values and the overall shapes. If the general effect is right, I find the details go in with much less effort.
I looked at these drawings at work today (it was lunch time, honest) and they looked nothing like they did when I posted them, much lighter. I think I need to calibrate my monitor at home. Anyone got any tips?
I have a drawing pad with several pages on which I copied Myra Hess again and again. Small drawings, but in each I found a discrepancy between it and the original. You’ve made me now want to try it using the sight-size method.
Accept for the lightness, which may, indeed, be a calibration problem, I think you’ve done a remarkable copy job!
Hello Paul,
It’s interesting, what you say about very subtle tone ‘But what’s really surprised me is how much those light whispers of tone can mould the form, how much difference they make to the feeling of form in the drawing.’
I paint in watercolour a lot. It’s a medium which tends to be lambasted because critics associate it with weakness and amateurism and timidity. However it can be used with considerable tonal and chromatic force, which Turner proved..and even Sergeant knew about. However, if we leave aside prejudice against watercolour for a moment it is interesting that Turner, for example, made great use of very delicate washes of colour-tone throughout his paintings. Sometimes these washes are so fantastically delicate that you wonder how he managed to see them? let alone represent them? And yet they usually complement the darker passages perfectly. And it is extraordinary how descriptive of form these delicate washes tend to be, at one time revealing the shape of things (clouds for example) and at another describing the way light bounces around the subject.
Hi Pat. I highly recommend trying it out sight size. But, give it a few goes if it doesn’t make sense right away. It takes a bit of practice to get into that way of seeing I think. I’d be very interested to hear how you get on with it of you give it a try.
Hi Jonathan, thanks for posting. Congratulations on making the first ever comment about watercolour on this blog 🙂
I must admit, I do don’t do watercolours at all. But that’s not because of any prejudice, it’s mostly because I know it’s an extremely demanding medium and one I have no experience with at all.
I don’t know Turner’s watercolours all that well. Are there any in particular you can point me to so I might see first hand what you’re describing? You’ve piqued my interest. I do know some of Sargent’s watercolour work and like it very much.
Paul these are great, your exercises are always so inspiring! I really agree with your comments about classicism, too, it takes a bit of effort to appreciate but has it’s own rewards once you do. The current taste of western culture is towards the gritty and imperfect, but realism balanced with some classical proportion really makes a drawing snap. I think Sargent agreed, his drawing structure (if not his technique!) is very classical.
As always, thanks for making a post that gives food for thought!
Thanks Sadie.
>it takes a bit of effort to appreciate but has it’s own rewards once you do.
I agree. I don’t think I could ever really call myself a classicist (they don’t do togas in my colour) but I do think it’s good to develop as wide an appreciation as we can. If nothing else it helps to orientate ourselves.
I guess you could say that Sargent’s portraits are between worlds. They do have a lot of individual character but they’re also very idealised I think. In a different way to classicism perhaps, but he’s noted for elongating his figures. I suppose if people are paying a lot of money for a portrait they expect to look good 🙂
I do agree that structurally there are classical elements in his drawings. The way he handles light and shadow in blocks is reminiscent of the Bargue plates I think. Maybe he was one of the first ‘classical realists’?
Great drawings Paul, once again you’ve inspired (or shamed) me. I have never tried sight size but as soon as I’ve finished this cup of coffee I’m off to give it a go!
By the way, I saw the Van Dyck show at the Tate last week, highly recommended to all. And not too crowded!
Thanks David. I’d much rather be responsible for inspiring than shaming I must say! If you have a minute, let me know how you’re experiment with sight size goes.
>Van Dyck show
Thanks for reminding me, I’d completely forgotten about it but I’m fairly itching to see this show. They were setting it up last time I was there and my attempt to sneak in and take a peek wasn’t well received 🙂
Paul, I have been following your blog for several weeks now and enjoy the quality of your drawings and the commentary. Artists who work in a “classical” realist style benefit from such networking and support. Thanks!
Here’s a tip for those who have a small studio, but may also be computer-savvy. I often photograph works in progress, and display them in Photoshop in a reduced image size. For paintings, I even take out the color to see the value patterns more clearly. One could also photograph or scan the Bargue (or other source drawing) and display it on the screen adjacent to the work in progress. (There is something visually interesting that happens when your work is seen one step “removed” from the original—it is similar to checking your work in reverse in a mirror.) It is a great way to see a “thumbnail” without needing to step back twenty paces.
I think you could be on to something there Lisa. When I was putting these images together with their originals in photoshop, I noticed mistakes that hadn’t jumped out at me even when looking at them side by side on the easel and standing well back.
I also think you’re right that it’s similar to checking them in a mirror. A friend of mine recommends laying one over the other and then making a quick animation that flicks from one to the other in rapid succession. It’s somewhat similar to my practice with Bargues, tracing the original onto acetate when the copy is finished and then laying it over. I did it the with one of the ears from plate four here.
I guess that your idea of taking out the colour to see the values in a work in progress is very similar to using a black mirror. I’m about to start a new still life this weekend so I’ll try that once it gets a bit of the way through. Thanks for the tip.
I’m glad my tip was inspiring, Paul. I’ve also used the “animation” approach you describe, and it really can be amazing what jumps out that you missed before.
Of course, all these methods are only for when an exact copy of something is the goal. A drawing can be beautiful and reflect your own personal “caligraphic signature” without slavishly replicating every nuance of the original. But in a study, these methods do allow for opportunities to improve your ability to see accurately.