Recently I've been taking a cast drawing class at the Grand Central Academy of Art and one of the new students who is working next to me was asking me a few questions about the whole process. I explained to her that I was no expert since this is only the second cast drawing that I've been working on since studying there (but that never stopped me from answering before). She wanted to know how the artist could exert his or her own personality into a drawing where there were so many rules concerning how to approach the act of making a Classical drawing. That got me to thinking about the process that I use, which goes along with the classical techniques that I've learned but isn't usually mentioned in any of the demonstrations that I've seen or in any of the books that I've read.
      In the summer workshop that I took at the GCA, Jacob Collins did a demo of the preliminary block in for a cast drawing. He was drawing from a cast of a gigantic head of a horse. He scribbled down a few basic shapes, basically separating the shape of the head from the neck and proceeded to manipulate the two shapes and there relationship for the better part of an hour. He talked quite a bit about preserving that initial response to the cast and how the finished drawing would stay relatively true to the parameters laid out in the initial sketch. The main reason for this being that it was important not to chop and stretch whole parts of the drawing but to cautiously measure and think about what changing one part might do to the structure and harmony of the rest of the drawing. Too often students end up with a Frankenstein drawing where individual parts of the drawing are well drawn but the drawing is lacking as a whole.
     What he didn't talk about, and maybe took as a given because he was after all lecturing to a room filled with experienced artists was the excitement that one must feel when making those first initial marks on the paper. Collins is a big proponent of the block-in method that one can find elaborated on in books by Anthony Ryder and Juliette Aristides. One difference that I've noticed about his block-ins is that he will often use a sweeping arc of a line somewhere in the drawing as opposed to the straight line envelope used by Ryder. It may not seem like much of a difference but to me it connotes a response to what is being seen with the use of a line that is more energized than the passive quality of a straight line. Getting back to the excitement factor, what wasn't mentioned was that if you don't feel something, some kind of electrical charge, call it motivation, all the measuring in the world will not prevent you from ending up with a drawing that is dull and lifeless. It is in that initial gesture that the artist will find the spark to ignite the flame and without it there can be no flame. Even though in a cast drawing the hand of the artist will be suppressed to better enable the artist to depict the turning of form, it is in that first response, those first fifteen seconds that will determine whether or not the drawing will succeed. Many artists lose sight of this to the detriment of their art. If you walk around a cast drawing studio you will see many completed cast drawings hanging on the wall, all looking pretty much exactly like the cast but there are some that stand out. They have an undefinable something that separates them from the pack. They have a "compelling reason to be".
       If we look at the drawings of Rembrandt we can see how he always sought to convey the excitement and joy of depicting the world around him. In his small thumbnails for elaborate paintings we can already see what is to be the heart and soul of the work.Even in the more finished paintings of his younger days there is something retained from those first marks. It is a kind of energy, what the Japanese call "ki", that flows through the artists hand, unbidden, into the work. This is not something that can be taught; either you have it or you don't. But you may have it and not know how to use it. Doing a lot of gesture drawings, from the model or from observed situations in a sketchbook is one way to unlock it. It is a way to draw without thinking. One draws rapidly so as to get something down before all that other stuff (doubts,remembrances, symbols etc;) creeps in. It is a kind of "pure" drawing wherein the artist will find the key to unlocking his or her own voice. It is usually mentioned in art books as a way of capturing movement and it can be used for that but it can really be used for drawing anything. All objects are moving on some level. Molecules are not at rest, the earth is turning, our gaze is constantly shifting, gesture capturers the animus inherent to all things.
    This does not mean that I advocate a kind of sketchy, free for all, loose style of rendering, although I do love to sketch. What I'm advocating for is a stimulated response to what you're seeing. In my own work, a still life painting, for example, I will put down the most elaborate of compositions in about twenty to thirty seconds. Now I will spend hours refining and tuning that drawing but I will not proceed past the first quick sketch if I can't see the whole painting in my minds eye from those first few lines. If that first gesture drawing fails to ignite, from where would I draw the flame necessary to keep the level of energy that I require to sucessfully complete a drawing or a painting? So going back to the question that the young lady in the cast drawing class had, I would tell her that she needn't worry about suppressing her artistic personality from the rigors of classical drawing but that she should never make a single line without feeling wonder or joy or frustration or awe; an indifferent line is the difference between a medical book illustration and a drawing by Michelangelo.

   Well, another year has come and gone. Time to assess and evaluate and maybe reflect a little as well. This time of year I can sometimes get a little blue. I blame it on that damn Joni Mitchell song. "It's coming on Christmas and they're cutting down trees.....I wish I had a river I could skate away on." Then I went to see the Dutch masters show at the Met and I immediately felt a lot better. There weren't as many still life paintings as I had hoped but the ones they had were very good. Nice to see them drag some of the more obscure paintings out of the basement. There was one painting by either Steen or Ter Borch , I can't remember, which was pretty interesting. It seemed to combine a range of Dutch themes into one painting. It featured a Gentleman caller standing just outside of an exposed interior, at half light (early evening?). with a procuress. There was a mother holding a child, a landscape visible through a doorway, and all kinds of stuff going on. It's one of the last paintings in the show, well the first room anyway.
     Funny thing about the Met exhibit is that people were neck in neck through the first wing of the exhibit but the rooms were pretty empty in the second part. Poor planning. Most people didn't seem to realize that the exhibit continued in another wing of the museum. I guess that the exhibitors didn't really care too much because the gift shop was right after the first section. Which leads me to another matter. What the heck were they thinking, putting the names of the donors above the masterworks in the first room? It looked at first like some kind of conceptual installation because the letters were really large and bold. Tch,tch. Very poor taste. Not at all what the Met used to be about. After the Rembrandts I had some time to kill so I went exploring in the newly redone European galleries. To my surprise and wonder I found myself in a room with Sargent, Sorolla, Zorn. Boldini and Repain. I have never felt more at home in a room in my life. My eyes just kept flitting back from one to the next making connections and realizing that this is why we paint. One could think after coming out of a room full of Dutch masters that that was it. They have the last word on the subject and what else is there left to say. But clearly Sargent and the others were up to the challenge and that's what needs to happen with each new generation. Artists needn't dispair about issues of content and concept; just keep pushing as hard as you can with honesty and integrity and the breakthroughs will come of their own accord. Theirs still life to be found in those old mediums yet.
      Anyways, I see I've gone off on a tangent, so let me steer my way back. I'm looking forward to working a bit more on my own in 2008. I'm not sure if I've really completed my studies at the Atelier but I felt after three years that I'd been equipped with a fairly well stocked tool box and it was time to do some building. I owe a lot to my instructor. He is truly a gifted teacher and was always able to point me in the direction I needed to go. He has made me a better artist and a better teacher. I find myself using some of his methods with my own students and they really seem to respond to it. " make sense?" has now become one of my favorite quotes.
       I built a model stand in my studio so that I could begin a new series of portrait paintings. The stand helps to keep the model's face at eye level so I'm not foreshortening from the scalp of the head on down. I've put together some fliers advertising to pay for portrait models and my 23 year old son says he already has one lined up for me. I will be entering a lot more competitions this year with the intent of possibly gaining some exposure and building up my resume. My biggest problem has been in finding a good, professional photographer. When I finally did run across someone I could depend on, his circumstances, his daughter has leukemia, left him unable to work for some time. I am grateful that he was able to fit me in and I pray for his daughter to get well. The quiet dignity and strength of Gary and his daughter, the day I visited, is something that I will never forget.
       I've managed to sell a few paintings this past year due in no small part to Sandi at the Blue Door Gallery, Karel at Flowers at the Greenery, Amy at the Argosy gallery, and Paul Toner at the Artists Showcase. Art dealers get a lot of bad press these days but the people I've mentioned have always been very supportive. Ive got a new place to show way out in Palm Desert, California and I'm grateful to Mr. Katz for calling me up personally and welcoming me. I'm hoping that I will have more variety this year to show; landscape, interiors and portraits, as well as still lifes.
     This past year has also been kind of tough on my family. Because I'm basicallly working two jobs, artist and teacher, that doesn't leave me a lot of time for family oriented activities. My wife Nancy, my daughters Krista and Briana and my son John, have been very good about this and I know I couldn't accomplish very much without there help and understanding. At least we have dinner together every night and that has been kind of the bedrock which keeps us strong and together.
      So there you have it, my end of year summary. What's in store for next year? Kicking butt and taking names. I feel like I'm really starting to get somewhere with my painting, and I plan to work even harder, if that's possible, and to spend more time getting the word out. I see what's out there, winning awards and getting exposure, and I'm ready to go toe-to-toe. I may be middle-aged but I ain't settling for the middle of the road. It's time for me to kick it into gear. That's it I'm all out of cliches, so here's to a good year,2008, let it be the year you take your dream off the back burner.