going botanic

Believe it or not, I’m taking a botanical illustration course with a wonderful botanic artist, Mayumi Hashi.

The UK is noted for its gardens and likewise the botanical illustration here is also amazing. This is a field that is known for its realistic representation, jaw-dropping detail and exquisite use of colour. 

I found myself staring at the same leaf for two hours today and was amazed at how large the world is when you appreciate small things.  It’s a practice that encourages you to take care and be careful, to make every small variation and gradation count, to squeeze out every nuance of the plant.  It’s very satisfying for the soul.  As Gina Lake writes in one of her books, “The mind likes detail.” 

However, I found myself thinking that I’m glad I didn’t start out in this mode.  The mind could get caught up in “getting it right” quite easily.  I can see that there’s quite a bit of practice to be done before I do any “accomplishin’,” and if I saw that as my main goal, I could get easily discouraged.

I can see that there is a drive toward accomplishing, about achieving a certain accuracy.  However, it needs to come from a proper place.  It needs to come from love, not fear.  It can't come from place of inadequacy or desire to be liked or admired.  And that's the artist's spiritual search.  To really know inside one's heart that we do things out of love.  That it’s not about goals or participating in shows or winning awards.  

So I’ll do a bit of botanic accuracy along with doing art just for the sheer joy of it.

embracing juvenileness

The human ego likes to label; it makes it think it’s in charge, that it has power.  This is true in art as in other aspects of life.  

The ego can’t help but looking for things to label – from good to bad and a thousand shades of grey in between.   It does this by judging which is basically comparing and contrasting one particular thing to a lot of other things.  It’s like creating a mental gang.

One label under the bad category is juvenile.  I’ve done a few things lately that someone may call juvenile and I’ve learned a lot from these paintings, and I’ve had a lot of fun.

The word “juvenile” can be particularly cut-throat, like it’s the worst thing in the world one can be.  It’s like saying Valdemoort or Satan or something.  It’s so bad that I think it’s why a lot of people don’t try drawing or painting at all – and that’s pretty extreme.  I mean, what we’re really talking about is ONE WORD stopping people from experiencing the joys of art.  That’s pretty extreme; that’s pretty powerful.   

Why does this word have so much power?  How does it conjure up so much fear?

Words are more than words; they convey meaning, they build concepts, and as we grow older, we learn to trade in our woolly security blankets for the security of our self-concepts.  Our concepts become more complex and sophisticated, but it is our security, nevertheless, and when a word challenges our self-concept, it is like tearing a hole in our security blanket.       

The word “juvenile” is one of those words that seems to mean a lot; it packs a punch.  It basically implies that there’s something wrong, something missing.  That one should be more evolved than what is being displayed.  I would argue that we are where we are; that you can’t judge a person by a painting, and we’re all evolving anyway.   As an artist, we have to learn to honour our creations, no matter what stage we’re at.  Plus, I would rather be an unskilled artist than being skilled in something else such as embezzling, robbing, hurting, insulting – you get the picture. 

pestering for a painting

I've been doing a lot of watercolours lately but must say I'm a bit concerned: I'm not doing anything that I would describe as a finished painting or even a study of one.  I seem to be in Doodle Land or even Half a Doodle Land or what you might call Practice Ville.

But then, on the other hands, could I be wrong?  I mean, is Practice Ville so bad?  And is Doodle Land the proper name for where I am?   I'm not sure.

It's like in Jules Verne's "Journey to the Centre of the Earth," where the compass flips.  North is south and south is north.  I'm not sure where I am, which the mind has a tendency to interpret as negative.   I have to remind myself that just because I'm in the dark doesn't mean it's not a nice room.  I just don't know where I am.

And that is an uncomfortable place to be for the human ego, which wants Answers!  Goals!  Statistics!  It wants to be a Contender!  I can feel it pestering me for a painting so I Can Be Somebody!  

I have faith that a finished picture can and will come - but only when it wants to.  When I'm not so invested & scared.

Patience.

rejecting happiness

A funny thing happened when I showed a friend this sketch of two mates that I had created in early December. 

Now, according to current standards and conventions, I knew (when I drew it) that it wasn’t a great drawing.  It wasn’t something I’d try to sell or pass off as “good.”   So as I was flipping through my sketchpad, I was anticipating coming to this drawing. I was bracing myself for a gut-feeling of regret and embarrassment and was searching for excuses to tell my friend...that it was done off the top of my head, that I had been tired, etc.

But when the drawing showed itself, I was very surprised that I did not reject it out-of-hand.  On the contrary!  What came up was total acceptance and calmness.   I actually liked it!

What came next was even more interesting: I became frightened at what this meant.  I thought something along the lines of, “What if I developed an aesthetic sense that had nothing to do with what’s accepted in society?”  Would I be socially excluded?   Or go down an artistic path that has no meaning to other people?    I was plunged into fear again! 

I thought about what happened for quite a while.  It's funny (weird) how I wasn’t happy with my own reaction, which was basically one of acceptance. It brings up the point of how much we’re looking “out there” for reward and acknowledgement, even at the expense of our own happiness.  Because isn’t the whole point of art and life is simply to be happy?  So why wasn’t I happy about being happy?

It was a striking example of how quickly the ego likes to change the agenda.  It’s always trying to steal the show and comes up with reasons not to be satisfied and not to be at peace. 

In art, the ego is a particularly cruel critic and finds various ways of not being happy with our work.  Two ways it does this is trying to turn our focus on “what other people think”, which is really something we don’t know and will never know anyway.  Another way is by comparing and contrasting our work with every other artists’, which is also impossible.

I find it so interesting that art brings up these issues so clearly.  That’s why I think art is wonderful spiritual tool.      

drawing grapes, i am reminded of fish

One of the first things I did when we got back from holiday (which shall be discussed later) is buy more grapes.  The last batch was fed to the chickens before we left.  The new batch is the more well-known variety that you usually see on supermarket shelves, the long, thin kind.

After plating them up, I decide to go for a coloured pencil instead of my usual broad-tipped pen, and I feel a sense of intricacy and nakedness I didn’t before.  I feel lost for a long time.  I feel somewhat handicapped, almost dependant on that thick line to provide that feeling of chunkiness and folksiness I really like. 

I wonder where this new medium is bringing me and fight the nagging sensation that I simply am not bonding with it.  I start focusing on the shapes and individuality of each grape, each crying out for attention...

It reminds me of something I read from the wonderful book “Eating Animals”, by Jonathan Safran Foer (published in 2009), which is a book about us flesh-eaters.  Foer brings up the fact how conscious the animal world is.  Here is a section about fish:

“Fish build complex nests, form monogamous relationships and use tools.  They recognise on another as individuals (as keep track of who is to be trusted and who is not).  They make decisions individually and monitor social prestige and vie for better positions (to quote from the peer review Fish and Fisheries: they use “Machiavellian strategies of manipulation, punishment and reconciliation”).” 

I look back on the grapes – all looking so similar and yet, each one having its own uniqueness, like the fish.  We have so much to learn from nature. 

the grapeness of things

Grapes have long been a source of artistic intimidation for me.  How can one capture all these little bastards at once?  Each one a different shape and hanging at a different angle; one drooping here, another nestling in there.  Then all those stems crossing every which way!

 I know I should be doing a pencil sketch first, blocking in the major shapes and then gradually getting more refined, but I just want to experiences the grapeness going on.  So I just grab some favourite felt-tip markers and dive in.

All those lovely shapes gradually start leading me and I get captivated by these small fruits.  It is heaven trying to render these gorgeous shapes - all unique, all playing their part in this grape landscape.  I turn the plate that the grapes are resting on - a whole new countryside opens up before me.  A few days later, I pick up the bunch and reassemble them in a whole new pose.  A cheap model for £1.35!

the importance of being earnest

Lately I’ve enjoyed copying pen-and-ink drawings from the 15^th and 16^th centuries.  Since I’m a relative newcomer to pen-and-ink (and have never been properly taught how to do the shadow thing), I feel like these artists are teaching me a lot.  Here’s a piccie I copied last night:

Copying is a great way to learn technique but it needs to be seen as a step to flying solo.  Art is about experiencing freedom and copying just allows you to experience someone else’s freedom.  So recently, I’ve been doing some of my own work and must say I’m having a blast.  This piece, “Pears on Purple,” was taken from the imagination:

While rendering the shadow, I tried to channel those Renaissance artists in order to create the pictures I had copied.  But very quickly, I learned this was the wrong strategy.

“Be sincere,” came the instinct.  “Don’t try to pretend. Don’t try to be ‘skilled’ or ‘talented.’  Just be sincere.”  

So I started putting in lines from the gut.  I tried to relax; those old masters had given me such precise instructions and I felt lost without them.  It was a half-thrilled, half-scared sensation, facing this whole new world of light & shadow, entering into a huge universe of potential.  The number of ways you can describe a shadow is sort of overwhelming.  So I tried to accept the fact that there's only so much I can do.   

Today I drew these grapes, trying to keep it light, fun and, yes, sincere.  I picked them up at the Surrey Street Market in Croydon, which served as an inspirational model.   

By the way, last month I happened to catch “The Importance...” on the telly and thought it was a delightful Victorian romp!  For those who live in the South London area, The Dulwich Players are presenting this production in April.  Please click here for details.