Line, Pt. 6

What we see as line is actually edge:

We use line to interpret things, even though "lines" as we perceive them do not really exist in nature. This is a revelation when ordinary people decide to do the extraordinary and draw what they see. The result is actually an attempt to trace the edges of things. People who draw, if they stick with it, will begin to develop a quality of line that better describes those edges and how they reflect light, plunge into shadow, soften or corrupt contours, etc. 

Line, Pt. 5

The Swiss artist Paul Klee defined line as "a dot out for a walk."

Paul Klee,
"They're Biting," 1920,
drawing and oil
on paper,
31.1 x 23.5 cm.














Seriously, go get a dictionary and look up "line" (n.) as it applies to drawing. The definition doesn't begin to describe mark-making and its possible dimensions. Webster's New World College Dictionary, Fourth Edition, provides 36 definitions for line as a noun, but only one comes close: "...a very thin, threadlike mark; specif., a long, thin mark made by a pencil, pen, chalk, etc." Klee's definition is much more accurate.

Still more about line tomorrow...

Flying Thing

Pencil and oil stick with turpentine on bristol. 

Because I had one in my sketchbook.

Drawing Flies

The origin of these drawings is almost unknown.  They arrived this morning in my e-mailbox from a friend, who credits them only to her ADHD. I think they are utterly amazing.

Line, Pt. 4

Detail of large drawing, oil and graphite on paper by Jenny Saville

More than any other element of a drawing, the quality of its line has the ability to simplify forms, distort perspective, add rhythm, define and emphasize shapes, focus the eye, deceive it, add spontaneity, create atmosphere, decorate and describe.

Line, Pt. 3

In skiing, there is a concept called the "fall line" that is described as the natural line of descent between two points on a slope. If you have ever been out on a mountain with a slippery implement beneath you (skis or a snowboard or even one of those plastic discs,) the fall line is something you can actually feel. You want to throw yourself into your sight line with all your weight and just enjoy the ride.

To me, that is drawing. Finding the line is like surrendering to gravity. And once you find it, you have to commit to it, or suffer the consequences.

John Singer Sargent, "At the Forge," about 1911, charcoal on paper.

When you approach a representational drawing, whether or not you are using a live model, try to find the fall line and begin there. In the above example by Sargent, it is easy to see it -- it is the line that begins at the model's left wrist and travels down to his left hip. 

Line Pt. 2:

Line is probably most commonly understood in terms of contour, or, the outline of a shape. Most lessons in drawing start there. Students are told to take up their pencils, look at an object, and trace its outline in space onto a piece of paper. It's an adequate way to begin drawing. More than that, it's an excellent way to begin seeing.

My own first-year college attempt at drawing a live model in pencil.

Most of these first efforts are characterized by a quality of line that shows little confidence. My brother, a geologist, only took up drawing this year.

As he trains his hand to record what his eye sees, the quality of his line improves. It is beginning to lose that sketchiness that shows a lack of commitment. Check out the hair:

That hair is a turning point. It shows a bold leap forward in terms of commitment. You can see it in the line -- a continuous tangle and flow that no doubt reflects the shape and rhythm of the object my brother saw in drawing class. No self-consciousness about hairline or individual strands, just a gestural form.