At the End of My Rope!

It seems like I've been "finishing" this final Hawser drawing for weeks now - and actually - I have been! There are inumerable subtle adjustments to make, constantly checking tone against tone, shape against shape, edge against edge. I'm working to adjust shifts of emphasis and finessing shapes until, finally, the whole reads fully balanced. It's a time of great energy and high interest.  

Like most of the other Hawser drawings, this one (titled "Slippage") is heavy on detail. There are large areas near the top though, that in my photo reference lack much detail - i.e. useful visual information. Consequently, I need to infer what I'm seeing (from fuzzy, out of focus areas in my photograph) and invent / create form where there is little to guide me.

That's where the training I received at the Schuler School of Fine Art atelier in Baltimore comes in mighty handy! There I learned how to effectively draw or paint the illusion of forms turning in space - how to transform two parallel lines into a tubular form - or make a flat geometric circle become a firm three dimensional "ball." Fun stuff - and essential knowledge for bringing this particular image home. Sure, I could go over and look for that section on the actual rope model - even take more reference shots of it - but, truly, not necessary! (nor necessarily an easier or better solution.) Having those drawing basics in my back pocket: invaluable! I'm working to bring the right and left upper thirds of the drawing into harmony with each other. The degree of "finish" in each section needs to follow a certain logic for the world of that image. Have I lost you? Pictures of the new drawing coming soon . . . which should help the discussion above make more sense!

Update

on 2011-01-15 23:54 by Huguette May

Picture above shows "Slippage" completed.

John E. Ruggles, Ropemaker

Back in 2006, I had an exhibiton of my MFA thesis rope drawings for the New Bedford Open Studios at a building on Sawyer St. called the Ropeworks. It had been sold to become beautiful live/work spaces for artists and its conversion from its former use as a ropeworks had just begun. Artists with no studios of their own could exhibit there that year - perfect for me, as I was looking for a studio in New Bedford at the time.

The Ropeworks had been John Ruggle's building and workplace for many years before selling it, and he still retained a workshop area within. During that exhibiion, I found the hawser rope jumbled inside a shopping cart pushed to the far edge of the exhibition space amongst other bulky construction stuff. Wondering what it was, I began disentangling it from other junk - tugging and pulling on it - until this wondrous, heavy python-sized object finally came free. An inquiry or two lead to the comment - "oh, that's probably John's." Someone took me over to the man's workshop and that's how I met John E. Ruggles, Ropemaker.

We chatted for an hour or so. I showed him my giant rope drawings and he gave me a tour of his now scaled- down shop. John showed me rope-making equipment and told me all about the newspaper clipping on the wall describing this gentleman - John - who had made many miles of crowd-cordoning rope for the Pope's visit to Boston back in the 70's. After awhile, I asked if I could borrow the hawser - and John kindly said I could keep it. I promised to show him what I would do with it. I was thrilled! I had a very strong feeling about the potential in that piece of rope. My gut and intuition are rarely wrong . . . Check out pictures of John here.

Satisfaction

The satisfactions I experience while drawing derive from the following:

First, rising to the technical challenge – can I pull this off? More often than not, I’ve found the answer is yes. I try to select projects with enough technical difficulty to force a little growth each time.

Second, the highly tactile pleasure of handling and manipulating the medium. There's a strong connection with the materials themselves.

Third, having a viewer experience some kind of response to the work. Positive or negative is OK – indifference amounts to failure with that viewer. The toughest viewer/critics are the ones who dismiss any stripe of academic drawing as irrelevant to contemporary art. What can one say? In the end, artists must do that for which they are best suited - regardless of the prevailing climate.

Finally - completing something that will leave behind a little bit of how I experienced my life in the world once I’ve gone.

"Tweakology"

How do I know when a drawing I’ve been working on is finished? The simplest answer: when there are no more problems to solve. But that’s not saying too much. What kinds of problems are there to solve? Of course, there are as many answers to this question as there are people who draw. And then there are the time-honored - some would say anachronistic - principles of academic drawing to consider. It happens that, of the many varieties of drawing extant in contemporary practice, mine is based on traditional academic training. This is second nature to me and since I think in these terms, all technical discussions will take advantage of the traditional lexicon.

The Road Map

So – back to those problems. As evident in my drawing - and bucking what seems to me a huge trend currently favoring line - I am much more interested in exploiting tone for expression. Charcoal and/or graphite are the most responsive mediums I’ve found for working extensively with tone. Very soft to hard sticks and pencils in charcoal give the widest range of tonal values over the largest surface. Consequently, toward the end of a work, my main problems have to do with properly balancing the exact range of tones I’m after. This takes a good eye and some patience. It requires stepping back and carefully studying the drawing as a whole. It also takes workable fixatif (usually Krylon) to allow continuing buildup for the darkest darks and a lot of different erasers (Pink Pearl, sticks in holders, grey ink erasers and soft white vinyls) to pick out the lights. Whether I’m working from life or from one of my own photographs, all of the information I need to interpret form is right in front of me. I assess this information much the way a driver might read a road map. The final days I’m working, there comes a point where the “road map” is no longer an aid but a hindrance.

”Tweakology”

All of the relative shapes and values have been placed and are now ready for “tweaking.” I put the original reference aside and stop looking to it altogether. The time has come to assess the drawing as an independent thing entirely apart from its derivative source. This is when I remind myself that no one will be comparing the drawing with the original subject. They will only be looking at the drawing. I’m now asking myself the following questions: Are some areas too dark? Too light? Do any areas call too much attention to themselves to the detriment of the overall effect? Do all parts of the drawing work with every other part? What effect/mood/impact am I really hoping for? Does the drawing need more drama – or perhaps less? (I want more in these rope pieces than less.)

I’m aiming to maximize whatever potential this piece has to affect a viewer. I don’t want someone to just stroll by; It needs to “read” from across a room. Nothing is overlooked. At the same time, I am careful not to touch or overwork any areas I am satisfied with. I call this process "tweakology” - just my silly name for resolving any lingering problems. No major changes will occur at this point because all the critical decisions were made before the drawing even began. Believe it or not, that has not completely squelched a certain degree of spontaneity in the mark-making. You will see it in most of my drawings if you look. While working, I am always cognizant of balancing both harmony and variety in the markmaking. That is probably the most difficult challenge from beginning to end. In this drawing, there is so much repetition in the large woven area of the rope, I found it very challenging to render those many similar shapes without creating too much monotony. I hope I mostly succeeded.

More questions: Do I want to direct the viewer to any particular area? In the case of this drawing “Tempest” the answer is “yes.” It’s an area in the lower third where the weaving of the rope both tightens and changes direction. It is, in fact, the area that originally drew me to this motif. All other aspects of the drawing are meant to contrast with or serve as foils for this single area. Executed with this in mind, no one will be able to view the drawing without quickly focusing on this area. Few viewers will realize that this is happening, let alone why it is so.

I decide to clean up the central interlocking form’s edges here in particular – and most importantly, to make this the area of greatest light/dark contrast. Both adjustments – crisper edges and higher contrast compared with all other areas - help strengthen a viewer’s attraction to this point. Suddenly, like some demented witch, I almost feel like cackling out loud! Not only am I “tweaking” the drawing, I’m also “tweaking” the viewer! Here perhaps, is the one and only place in my life where I actually have some power to benevolently (– or maybe not so …) affect a few moments of someone else’s inner life; A small reward for the umpteen hours of study and practice that have culminated in my current practice. From my perspective - worth every minute.

Titles

Finished this drawing yesterday. Until I can figure a better title I'm referring to it as "Fishtail". The interlocking shapes in the lower third resemble a sophisticated hair braiding style of the same name. Now that it's done, the image suggests a rather strange tornado more than a fishtail. It's ended up combining imagery from each. To my eye, the drawing suggests a state of agitation, a dark mood or even anger - things I wasn't especially thinking about while working on it. Interesting how one thing can sometimes morph into another without conscious intent. That's where working from life or a source photograph hopefully becomes much more than an exercise in copying. Somehow in the process of setting down marks and tones, a bit of the artist transforms a drawing or painting into something more meaningful than the original source material. Rembrandt comes to mind as noteworthy for having achieved an ineffable feeling of presence and humanity in his portraits.

Titles can be useful for helping to illuminate meaning in work that might otherwise remain opaque to a viewer. My favorite titles point but don't "tell." It is often difficult to come up with a good title; Better that a piece be left "untitled" than given some vague title that sheds either no light on the subject or worse - points away from the artist's intention (assuming the artist has some focus for creating a work.) Still - even when I can't come up with something I'm completely happy with, I usually at least give a work a descriptive title. I'm happy to say that I couldn't have found a more perfect title for my previous drawing "Core Strength." The image & title combined evoke everything I could ever want to convey about that most vital of human qualities - the one that keeps us from completely falling apart in the face of adversity. Titles: just give us a hint ....!!

Postscript, 2010:  Soon after completion I titled the piece above "Tempest." The originial is now in a private collection.

Rejection

Opened my mail on Saturday and discovered the bulky "self-addressed stamped envelope" I made out months ago to send along with four slides of the super-large drawings from my MFA thesis show. I'm looking at the evelope right now. My first thought when I see it: They decided my work wasn't good enough. (for The Open Studios Press MFA annual competition issue.) I quickly scan the rejection letter; 900 entrants - only 25 selected. It would have been a genuine career boost to have been selected, but it's only one person's opinion. (in this case, Linda Norton, Associate Curator of the Fogg Art Museum, Harvard University Art Museums.) Only one person's opinion for sure. Still, it doesn't feel good. As it happens, I'm just heading out for the studio. I set the envelope down on an old stool in the garage with the rest of the day's mail and drive off to pick up my ritual Panera largo coffee and cinamon chip scone before cruising up Rt. 24 to New Bedford - knowing the best anti-dote for rejection is immersion in more work. The day is mild and sunny - heat wave gone. Driving along, I'm ok, but can't help wondering if my work is any good at all or even worth doing. Strange what rejection does to one's head. All I know for certain is that working on a drawing gives me peace. (Above, exterior view of my corner studio on the fourth floor at this former textile mill. More pictures to follow in future entries....)

Summer, Heat, Isolation

Way too hot today to work at the studio. Instead, stayed home in air conditioning and cleaned house readying for an old friend to arrive from out of town. Tomorrow heat wave continues in the upper nineties. I hate losing the studio time, but at least I pulled myself together enough to clean house, something I often defer in favor of studio time. As far as the studio goes, if I show up, the work gets done. It's not even an issue. Not so true at home. There's so much that needs doing at home, I can -and often do - become paralyzed just contemplating it all (five years of accumulated clutter.) I thought that would happen today, but expecting company helped motivate me to get some basic cleaning done. I love a clean house so that feels good now.

I felt very uneasy being home all morning. I had a strong urge to just leave but knew that being out in the heat would be worse. Not even an urge to go junking. I felt very tired and napped on the sofa while cuddling Stella (my cat) instead. Despite this wonderful home, staying here all day isn't too good for me. There's no one ever around except for the cats (thank goodness.) Tom out of town so much right now. Daytime here is very long and very lonely - unless I can get myself working on a project. Having a studio now is a major help to my psychological well being. It's a lovely peaceful place where I can focus and really get into drawing. It's so spacious and uncluttered, it evokes the clairity of mind that helps me work best. There I feel connected with my inner resources. Eric, my studio neighbor, is just the right amount of company.

The drawing I'm working on now is a weird one. Until it's done, I'm calling it "fishtail" for how the rope braid looks near the bottom. It's similar to a hair braid style called "fishtail." Not too surprisingly, this drawing is proving to be more complicated to render than I had anticipated. Some sections have gone very well, others have been a struggle. My favorite part is coming up - where I fine-tune the details and the tonal values and pull it all together to make it finally work. The hardest aspects are mostly done, i.e., the contour drawing and a few amorphous areas. I've coped with the summer heat pretty well so far - even to soaking my feet in a bucket of water to keep cool! Always work with a fan on and a water mister for my skin. It's like coming from a swim - but without the pool .... The heat tires me more quickly and when it's too much, I can't concentrate well enough to make the right decisions while working. Either too tired or too hot - I have to back off and wait for better conditions. Isolation at home didn't used to bother me much. Now it breeds extreme lethargy and sometimes depression. Teaching is coming up soon - another big transition. Very busy then.

First Drawing in new studio space

Yesterday completed my first drawing for 2006. I decided to title it: "Core Strength". It's a drawing from a large piece of extra- thick synthetic ship rope I aquired almost a year ago while exhibiting at the Rope Works. I knew the moment I pulled that grungy hunk of rope from an old shopping cart parked at one end of the room that it would become the subject of future work. A full Spring semester of teaching at the Museum School then half a summer of painting walls and stuff at the New Bedford studio kept me from beginning any new drawings until a couple weeks ago. The painting of studio surfaces isn't done yet, but Tom and I got far enough to make it possible to hang work. Except for the floor, it looks fresh and clean as a gallery.

Working there is truly wonderful. The space has everything I could ever want - most of all, SPACE & LIGHT! Being up on the 4th floor in that old mill, I get a great cross breeze just opening up the many windows and doors. My studio neighbor, Eric will be building me a 4'x8' drawing board that I can move around on casters in exchange for my photographing his sculpture. At some point, he'll also power sand my floor. With ninety-plus years of industrial grime, it's currently a very dirty floor.

I feel good about the drawing. It's intricate - satisfyingly so. I loved working on it. Drawing again felt very good. Drawing somehow gives me a peace of mind and life satisfaction I can't get any other way. I've already photographed it and made a good digital print.

Today I also returned Eric's tall metal stool I'd been borrowing and bought a new one of my own. $40! At least it's indestructable.

start-up

Beginning now to visit my own thoughts on the process of art-making. H.