Creative Licence

Write Me

A Personal Journey from 6H to 6B

November 4, 2007

 


It may seem hard to believe, upon looking at my current bloated form, but there was a time, years ago, when I went to the gym and lifted weights every day. Seven days a week for over a year, I reported to the gym every morning at 7 a.m. to strain and sweat. I had no Schwarzeneggerian ambitions, no need to pump myself up and strut around the neighborhood, rippling and flexing. No, instead I was driven by a certain degree of self-awareness.
I determined that if I gave myself any wiggle room, I would break my habit. I had to be iron-clad in my commitment in order to persevere. I'm a creative person and I knew that I would easily come up with all sorts of imaginative excuses for quitting so I vowed to deny myself any sort of exit and, rain or shine, I would be at the gym doors at 7 a.m. and do my best to combat gravity.
After several months, my sister noticed the change in my belt size and asked if she could join my Spartan regime. For a while, she showed up daily and grunted and strained at my side. Then, one February morning as I awoke in the dark and listened to the sleet hammering against the window, my sister phoned and suggested that it might be okay to skip a day. In a moment of long regretted weakness, I agreed and rolled back under the blankets.
I never went back to the gym.
This is a scarily pathological story, I know. I think I have mellowed since those muscle bound years and am a little less inflexible in my commitment to developing myself. However, recently, in a moment of self-assessment, I had to ask myself if I was truly as committed to creative freedom as I claim to be in my writing here and in my books. Am I really open to anything? And why, when I give others advice, do I assume that they need the same short leash I do? I am afraid that I hand out far too many ultimata and that my last book, The Creative License is far too rigid and dogmatic. I wrote it assuming that it was for people who needed a friendly but unyielding guide to getting started on the road to self-expression and frankly a little ass-kicking. Since its publication some readers have balked and complained that I am hypocritical in simultaneous claiming to be a cheerleader for creative exploration while laying down all sorts of rules and systems. The thing people rail against most loudly is my insistence that they draw only with a pen rather than a pencil. I have urged this suggestion on readers time and again because it worked for me, strengthening my conviction in how I see and draw, the quality of my line, my confidence in what I am making, and more. But some people don’t like pens and resent my dogmatism.
When Roz Stendahl sent me a handmade book bound with soft, ocher Rivs BFK paper, I decided to challenge myself with a new direction, at least for the length of a single book. The paper is far too soft and absorbent for pleasurable ink drawing and so I decided to fill it with pencil drawings. I bought several boxes of Derwent pencils (12 each of Graphic, Drawing, and Graphitint), a pencil sharpener, and several types of erasers.
Erasers are a new tool for me and gave me the most cause for concern. In ten years of drawing, I have avoided equivocation; if I make an inaccurate observation and lay down a line I can't take back, I just go with it. If the face becomes lopsided, so be it. I let the initial error mold the lines to follow, telling myself that it's okay, it's my style, it's human. This is how I have always drawn; it's an anxiety that keeps me on my toes, that is my drawing experience, like a small animal in predator-country, a little wary, senses finely attune, knowing one mistake can lead to disaster or flight into unfamiliar land.
I began with a few drawings around my house, mainly of my sleeping dogs. I started with harder pencils and drew with a light sketchy line, the same sort of pressure I use with my Rapidograph. I did some cross hatching, then added a little color from one of the Graphitints, a sort of soft, muted color pencil. I also avoided erasing, not really thinking of it most of the time. The drawing looked small, crabbed, dim and anemic.
Then I drew some pictures when we attended the Dalai Lama's lecture in midtown. As usual, when I am listening intently, my drawings were crappy and unpleasant to make.
Then I collected some photos and began to draw portraits. Each evening after work I did a couple, getting bolder and more confident with my lines. I erased a little bit, but not much. Occasionally I would do a straight graphite sketch to note the landmarks of the face then I'd go over them with color and really lay it on.
I began to feel more free as time went by and my drawings became more aggressive though probably les accurate. I felt a little more happy, laying on more and more color, making lines that varied in strength, expressing my feelings by pushing the pencil harder and harder against the page.
After a few weeks of pencil drawings, I stopped and looked back.
I saw several things as I flipped through the pages. For one thing, there is enormous difference in the expressive qualities of different hardnesses of lead. I thought I'd like the "H" pencils for their clarity of line like my pen. However, they don’t work especially well on soft paper. They also leave a faint line that seems uncommitted. I was initially averse to the softer pencils, disliking their tendency to smudge and smear. But there is something quite satisfying about a creamy "B" pencil line gliding often paper with a little tooth; it's almost like drawing with a lipstick.
Another revelation was the way in which I tended to express light and color. I usually work in two pretty different media: pen and watercolors. With the former, I love doing intricate crosshatching to express shadows and highlights and creating varying patterns to suggest different colors. In water coloring, I like to layer transparent paint and build up tone with many applications. With pencil, I found myself tilting back and forth between these techniques. Harder pencils led me to build up line patterns rather than varying the darkness of the image by using pressure on the lead. With softer pencils, I would layer color upon color, cross hatching one way with one hue, then another way with a different shade. I avoided smearing my lines or softening them in any way but still the effect was more painterly than linear.
Perhaps with more practice I could resolve this schism but the fact is … I really don’t want to.
By and large, I don’t love the way pencil drawings look. They often seem grimy and overworked, smudgy from the artist's palms. There is a sketchy quality to soft pencil drawings that I don’t like either, a certain lack of clarity that bugs me. Oh, there are exceptions galore of course. I could mention any number of artists whose pencil drawings are masterpieces but I rarely see once I wish I'd made. I had more and more disdain for the pencil drawings I'd made. They were just ugly and weak, and I rarely found even a section of a drawing that I thought was interesting.
Last weekend, I went back to drawing with pen and ink -- and what a relief it's been. I have done dozens of careful ink drawings since, all pen with just a touch of ink brushwork on a couple of images. I felt like I do after coming home from a lousy vacation, eager to return to my familiar old armchair and enjoy a cup of tea as only Patti can make it.
I realize now that I draw as I do not because of inflexibility but because it is me. I can walk a mile in another man's shoes but it gives me blisters. However, I am glad I took this trip through the land of Graphite. It is wonderful to unstrap the lead and splash free in pools of ink once more.
If you'd like to see selections from my experiments in pencil, visit my new Pencil book gallery

Comments

I love this pencil work! It seems so different than your portraits done with pen or watercolor. I love the interplay of line and color, they look loose, but also very sophisticated, somehow.

Keep showing them. I haven't written before, but I admire your work very much. I started drawing again after finding your website and reading your book.

hey danny,

1) i like reading what you write but i didn't realize until this post that you are really SO GOOD at writing. you're descriptions of the pencils... and your timidity are perfect.

2) as an art teacher, i want to pipe up and tell all those naysayers that IT IS OKAY TO BE A HYPOCRITE! walk a day in our shoes and you will see that every students needs a different lesson. some need rigid rules. some need absolute freedom. just to get to the same place. and what WE need can be very different than what our students do.

I like your pencil work very much! It's still recognizably yours, but the softer line looks richer, somehow. I saw a couple of Steve McQueens in there? Very nice. I've been avoiding pencil for awhile -- now maybe I'll have to dive into it too.

As a reader, and student, of The Creative License, I don't find your approach too rigid. I recognize that you have a set of skills and experiences that I do not. That's why I'm reading and picking up the pen. I may not follow your advice slavishly but it's certainly better than being stuck before a blank page.

That said, I think it's great that you took the graphite journey to find out what worked and didn't for you. That's part of growth and experimentation. As a voice for creativity and drawing, why should you deny yourself experiences you would wish for your readers?

Keep playing and pushing the edge!

Danny--

Dude, you rock. I *loved* this post.

When I first began drawing (about 15 years ago, in my early 30s), I didn't do it from life, but from my head, and I did it with a marker. There was something important about "being" with that line in that very moment...almost as a way of accepting myself and just going with that connection between head and hand, believing in a weird way that there are no mistakes.

I drew those pictures almost as a way to connect with my unconscious, diving in not being sure what I was even about to draw, like a rorschach test, I suppose. I was often astounded at the message that was reflected back to me, and even though I use a different process now, I treasure those early efforts in ways I can't really express.

Perhaps one of the most important lessons I learned about drawing came ironically from a musician, Jon Brion, who produced such incredible artists as Aimee Mann, but who is an astounding singer/songwriter in his own right.

I live in NYC, but I saw him perform once in his weekly Largo gig in West Hollywood where he would literally compose onstage. (I'm hoping he still does it.) As he would compose different parts, he would record them as a loop, and if a mistake was made, he wouldn't correct it and instead would incorporate it into the composition. In that moment, I learned the astounding beauty of the "mistake," realizing that absolutely nothing we do is wasted if we can just use it instead of, well, erasing it. I honestly believe it was Jon Brion who taught me how to paint. :)

Thanks, Danny, for yet another great post.

Mary Ann

A friend bought your book shortly after I did because I raved about you so much. She read it and started drawing and doing all the things you suggested. I read it like a book and often return to it as inspiration. I never once felt like it was dogmatic and preachy. I felt like it was as the title suggests, an inspiration to be creative as I feel so inspired. I believe that the criticisms you received are more about you not living up to others' expectations of you - not so much you not living up to your expectations. There's a big difference. And the latter is what matters - truly.

Thanks for sharing your recent drawings. It's always a pleasure to view your work in any form.

I think the reason you didn't like your pencil drawings is because you used the pencil like a pen. The pencil can be used in many ways, unlike the pen.
You can use different grades of hardness(6B to 6H), different pressures (hard, soft), shading,
different textures, various lines and you can be very detailed or not.
I LOVE pencil drawings. It is what I love to teach and do the most. I hope you will try again. This time try just drawing an object realisticaly with many grades of shade.
Annette

Wonderful drawings! Doesn't seem like this had cramped your style a bit!

This is my personal favorite way to work. I love the midtone paper, adding the darks and then punching in the lights for dessert!

You have just learned one of the first lessons on how to be a therapist: Start where the client is. Help them explore their obstacles. Encourage them to take steps that are risky for them. Oh... and being a good therapist turns out to be a wonderful way to become a happier person! Love your experiments.. (and your books even when they had a tinge of dogmatism!)

god danny the similarity scares me sometimes.

Danny, wherever your journey takes you, thanks for letting us come along! I always look forward to your thoughts on whatever, makes me stop and look at my own thoughts about whatever....very good for reflection, learning and then doing something!

For some people (me, for instance, and perhaps you), the line is everything. It's the engine that drives the urge to make the mark. Your pencil drawings are lovely to look at, but it makes sense that they're not as satisfying in the making.

Danny, I just finished your book and intend to go back through it again. I do go back once in a while for a little kick in the pants and hand holding when needed. I think, there is a good mix of everything in there and people can find what they want to, good and bad.

As far as pencils, perhaps you could try another brand? I love Derwent for its soft buttery texture, but it smudges (especially in a sketch book) and is not quite black. Mars Lumograph, on the other hand, gives a rich black line and doesn't smudge as much. The pencil feels a little "sticky", but I have adapted.

Keep up the good work. I look forward to seeing where you head off to next.

When you try those pencil drawings again, instead of thinking of the eraser as something to "remove mistakes," think of it as just another drawing tool. I think you might rather enjoy it! Get a page all dirty with graphite (6B rules!) and then "draw" with the eraser. You will find that the eraser can make very fine detailed "white space" in a dark graphite ground. If you get into it, a kneadable eraser is also fun...you can make a little point on it to make tiny little marks.

Meanwhile, enjoy being who you are!

Danny: I can say without qualification that THE most helpful thing to me in The Creative License was your insistence on using a pen.

It didn't feel preachy or dogmatic: it felt like an invitation to go outside my comfort zone. Which I did, and whch I'm so grateful for.

I've recently started experimenting with pencil again and also with pastels but I love the commitment to the line that pen requires.

At the Sacramento Sketchcrawl on Sunday most of the participants were either students or teachers of animation. I was surprised by the number of people who were drawing first in non-photo-blue pencil, followed by graphite, a slow, methodical, almost mathematical precision (and much eraser). Me, I wandered around with my fountain pen and copic sepia marker, having a blast.

You do beautiful work!

If you were, for some odd reason, to ask me what to do next with pencils, I would tell you to rethink your idea about the eraser as a correction tool and think of it as a drawing tool.

Just as a little exercise. . . try making a drawing in which the PRIMARY drawing medium is the eraser. Might open up some of the differences between graphite and ink. . .

Great stuff, both visual and written, thanks!

Love your pencil drawings! It is always fun to stretch out of a comfort zone to come back and see way you love something so much.
My art school teachers made us fill our sketch books with drawings make with a sharpie. That practice forced us to really look and see what we were drawing. I'm forever grateful!

Oh, gosh, this post has me just aching to bust out the pencils and pens and draw up a storm! (I've been focusing on my plush latley, not drawing) And yes, your book does provide creative kicks in the ass. That might be what I appreciate about it most- the kicking is more encouraging than browbeating, though! I always keep it near one of my creating desks- it's like a personal art coach. Danny, your unique vision is much appreciated. Keep on being yourself!

Danny, I can understand that others may not require a firm hand to get them going, but I am in the exact same boat, and so The Creative License made complete and total sense to me. I am also highly averse to the pencil - the odd time I use it to rough in a shape, but then I find my pen often defies its guidelines anyway. I recently decided the only way I was really going to do this drawing thing was if I painted myself into a corner so I HAD to draw. It's not the romantic image one might have of the artist who is gently pulled out of bed by her loving fountain pen in the morning to glide effortlessly through drawing after drawing, but I had to realize that it is the way I am - and it works for me. That said, I am all for branching out and trying other media - even if the end result is appreciating the pen that much more at the end. Your pencil illustrations are beautiful, but I love the imperfections of your renegade pen lines. Bravo for stepping outside of your comfort zone fully, and also for being able to admit it just wasn't you. And thanks for sharing the story - it's great when we have the opportunity to realize others share our quirks...