Drawing Digitally

"Woman sketch" by Tim Timmerman (This woman like all of us in Oregon, needed some sun. Why does this piece remind me a bit of the work of Red Grooms?)

In the late fall I got an I-Pad.  A common companion of mine is my sketchbook, particularly in meetings.  But as of late, in meetings or on a plane, I’ve found my I-pad, and particularly a program called Sketchbook Pro, to be a lot of fun to use.

The digital drawings in this  post were created while in a very long day of meetings in January.  I’m finding the digital world a fun place to experiment, and yes, I swear I’m paying attention in the meetings.

"Man sketch" Tim Timmerman (Not anyone in particular, but he looked a little bummed so I thought I'd give him some flowers to hang out with.)

 

What to draw?

A sketch I did a bit ago. Don't ask what it means simply explore it and see what the work tells you. If I could of explained it in words I would of written it all down; that's why we draw you know.

So much to draw, so little time.

If you are beside yourself as to what to draw – for you know you SHOULD be drawing something!   Here are some suggestions.  A student today saw a drawing I had jotted out on a to-do list and asked, “What’s that for?”  I replied, “I did it because I had to.”

A sketch I affectionately called "Pray Hard"

Draw:

•  your better angels.

•  hope as best as you know it.

•  the home where your heart is.

•  flowers, like you mean it (and without being sarcastic).

•  something that would make your mother proud.

•  the conversation you wanted to have but didn’t.

•  a fairy tale character that you can relate to.

•  your favorite cereal (the box doesn’t count).

•  things better left unsaid.

•  time, and time again.

•  a lammergeyer or hoopoe.

•  light coming through a window.

•  peace in a place of dissent.

•  everything within a five foot proximity to you.

•  your grandfather’s ideal.

Often I'll sketch with whatever color pen I can get a hold of.

•  what’s biting at your heels.

•  that sinking feeling.

•  laughter.

•  singing.

•  what you remember best.

•  Fisher Price toys.

•  kindness.

•  an optimistic remark.

•  the remains of the day.

 

Drawing as Prayer

A sketchbook page of mine from last years skechbook.

I often find in my little black book I carry around it is easier to draw a prayer than write one.  Here is one such example.

 

In Good Company

My sketch from the Louvre including Chardin's dog from "The Buffet"

Going to an art museum can be like going to a party with an inordinate amount of guests; all of whom you feel you should meet.  Best bet seems often to find two or three individuals and concentrate on getting to know them better rather than skimming the surface of the entire crowd.

Two summers ago while at the Louvre I sat and spent time with two works, a Fra Angelico crucifixion and a Chardin piece called “The Buffet” – I actually blogged about this particular sketch this past August 3rd.  From “The Buffet” where a dog curiously looks at a parrot that is taunting it over a banquet of food.  I drew the dog.

I bring it up again here because as of late in reading a small Chardin biography I found out an interesting fact.  When I entered the room in the Louvre with Chardin’s work I scanned the walls and found “The Buffet” for some reason very engaging; it seems I haven’t bee the only one.

Apparently the work was studied by a number of artists in the 19th century.  Philippe Rousseau ‘spent many dejected hours under the spell of this picture, despairing already the lack of success of any imitations of it.’ Cezanne, Van Gogh and later Matisse would also copy the work.

"The Buffet" by Chardin, dated from 1728; the Louvre

As Helene Prigent and Pierre Rosenberg wrote, “They (Cezanne, Van Gogh and Matisse) were attracted not so much by the subject matter or by any particular technique as by his evident relish of painting itself, in all its glorious variety.  That a painting could succeed without the need for a pretext, a story or underlying idea, that it could render with wonderful precision not only the physical reality of things but also the intensity of our emotional relationship with them, that was the truth so subtly revealed by Chardin.”

I concur wholeheartedly and felt an odd twinge knowing that I have been in the footsteps of some pretty extraordinary artists who have also been drawn to this work. Good company indeed.

 

The vital things that press all about.

George Bellows, The Lone Tenement, 1909 oil on canvas 36 1/8 x 48 1/8 inches (91.8 x 122.3 cm.) National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C.

As of late I have been reading a book on George Bellows.  He’s part of the “ash can school” in New York in the first half of the 20th century (ironically the term “ash can school” was coined for them a good thirty years after they painted).

This group of artists that Bellows was a part of (some others are John Sloan, Robert Henri etc…) would be known for painting nitty-gritty paintings of the goings on in the big city; large tenement houses, boxing matches, crowds, construction sites, and nights scenes in the city would all be in their lexicon’s of subjects.

Here is a quote I ran on of Bellows that captures their ethos:

“I am always very amused with people who talk about lack of subjects for painting.  The great difficulty is that you can not stop to sort them out enough.  Wherever you go they are waiting for you.  The men of the docks, the children at the river edge, polo crowds, prize fights, summer evenings and romance, village folk, young people. old people, the beautiful, the ugly.  Everywhere the difficulty that I have had, even when I was quite young, was to stop long enough and do the thing.  As a student I was always eager to do the tremendous, vital things that pressed all about me. It seems to me that an aritist must be a spectator of life; a reverential, enthusiastic, emotional spectator, and then the great dramas of human nature will surge through his mind.”

George Bellows 1917

(So no complaints out there as to what to make images of!)

 

Sketching in Parables

Here are some sketches of some ideas I'm working on based on some parables from the Bible.

Well, I must admit I haven’t been at the blog or working on art as much in the past month or so because I dislocated a rib.  My advice to you is not to do that.  It’s been a journey to recovery as my right arm was completely numb for a week and a half.

All that to say I’m slowly getting back to the art.  Whoo hoo.  Here are some working sketches for a couple of pieces.  I’ve decided to dive in doing renditions of two of the most popular of the parables Jesus told:  the prodigal son, and the good Samaritan.  We’ll see how they turn out.  Nothing like joining the ranks of Rembradnt, and Van Gogh in terms of subject matter.

 

A sketch from Brugge

Tim Timmerman a sketch from museums in Brugge in May of 09

While in Europe this past May with students I attempted to be very faithful in drawing in museums.  Brugge in Belgium is full of a lot of history and wonderful museums.  This is one of my pages from the time I spent there.

The piece on the left is me working out a possible idea of a work incorporating the Father/Son/Holy spirit image I had found at St. John’s Hospital that is on the right.  It was from a tryptic that I found very moving.  In art history the pieta (or Mary mourning over the dead Christ, like the famous one in Vatican sculpted by Michelangelo) is fairly familiar, but I had never seen an image of God the Father holding his dead son; mournfully gazing at the viewer with steadfast resolve.

The cannon image on the uper right is actually a symbol of an individual I found over the fireplace at the Gruuthuse Museum. I found it was quite a different image to use, rather than an animal of some sort to represent oneself.  I thought it was kind of humorous.   How do you view yourself?  “As a firing cannon!”  Let’s just say I’d want that guy on my team.

The image on the upper left was a silver ring that was pulled to call to attention or order a group called “The Holy Ghost Chamber of Rhetoric.”  I thought this too was quite humorous reflecting on my own experience in faculty meetings at a Christian University.  We need such a ring.

Maybe I like to draw things I find moving or funny.

Actually that could be more true than I’m willing to admit.

 

Practicing what I preach

On my January 28th post I spoke of the lost practice of drawing what you see when going to museums and galleries.

Tim Timmerman, sketchbook page Oct 7, 2009; Washington D.C.

Here’s a page from my sketchbook when I was in D.C. in the fall.  My writing is barely legible I know.  Consider me a doctor of sorts, it was for me to refer back to.

I made it a “requirement” of myself that any museum I went into on that trip that I needed to find at least one piece to draw.  Here are the artists that are featured and what museums they were in.

Upper left corner: A work of Sunkoo Yuh at the Renwick Gallery.  Ironically out of all of his ceramic work I choose this one and this view, only to find this is the exact piece and view featured in their advertising material, I found that kind of eerie.

Upper right corner: A piece of Tony Cragg’s at the Hirshorn. I’ve been a fan of his for some time.  He and Moore are both British artists.

Lower left corner: A little copper alloy lion on display at the Museum of African Art.

Lower right corner: Two Henry Moore sculptures in the Hirschorn sculpture garden.  I’ve always been a fan of Moore, in part because he is just a ordinary, stable guy who liked to make art, and stuck to pretty basic themes of women, family groups, and forms within forms.  An interesting event that helped his success was during WWII  he rendered sensitive images of his fellow Londoners hiding down in the tube during air raids, that the British found very ennobling.