Keepin' On

A lot of artists work until they simply can't any longer. They work well into what is certainly "old age"--Lucien Freud died in his late eighties, still painting in top form. He worked every day. Perhaps he was like me and feared not being able to start again. Some artists are literally afraid they'll never do more work. Isaac Asimov, the famous writer was so afraid to stop for anything that he typed away while riding in taxis. Something like Asimov, habit keeps me going. I wonder if it is what kept Freud at his easel.

Head of a Woman, graphite and chalk, 2016

For years, a part of my daily routine has involved drawing. I spend perhaps an hour drawing, nearly every morning. Subject matter isn't all that important. What is most important is the act of taking marker in hand and making marks. The marker doesn't matter either. It can be a school pencil and printer paper or a Wacom tablet and stylus. It could be an iPad and a finger (although that's an awkward way to draw.) The quality of the work doesn't matter at all. Many of my drawings never survive--they hit the wastebasket or I hit the delete button. Sometimes drawings serve as practice, sometimes as learning devices, and sometimes they serve as a way of loosening the creative "muscles," in a way analogous to a musician practicing scales or a dancer stretching.

Sometimes a morning drawing morphs into a more finished work, as happened with this study of a woman's head. I saw this expression in a dramatic video and tried to translate it into a study of my own. The young actress was exceptionally beautiful.

Thumbnail Sketches, graphite, 2016

It may be, though, that the creative well is fine--an idea that seems sure-fire comes to mind and off we go. Except that sometimes the idea comes but how to state it, how to fulfill the vision, doesn't. Or sometimes an idea comes with no time to do more than capture the essence of the subject. Or it may simply be that the idea isn't well-formed and needs more thought.

When testing ideas or compositions, a few thumbnail sketches, no larger than 4x5 or so, may help. Here I was working on a picture of coneflowers in a garden, trying to establish where to place any figure(s). Working out every detail of a picture is a time-tested way to further the work. Norman Rockwell made his familiar work seem effortless, but behind those masterful images was hours of thumbnail sketches, color sketches, full-scale charcoal renderings, and only then if he was satisfied did he produce an oil for his client. So an important consideration is that by doing the "busy work" first I not only keep the momentum going, I'm also trying to solve whatever problems the idea has posed.

Dredge, Newburgh, graphite and ink, 2019

Here is a graphite and ink sketch done on the spot along the Hudson River a month or so ago. There was a flat-bottomed barge--a dredge--pulled ashore along Newburgh Bay that caught my eye but I lacked time to paint it, having already begun on different subject. My intent was to get an impression of the subject and to chart the various colors and so on, although I did take a couple of quite phone snaps too. This sketch plus those snapshots gave me enough information to paint a full sized oil, shown below. 

The Dredge, Newburgh, oil on panel, 20x16, 2019

So for me it's mostly habit that brings me into the studio in the morning, but it's also planning and careful study of a subject before diving into a larger studio work.