Drawing what you see

(not what you think you see)

That may sound like an odd thing to say - drawing what you see, not what you think you see - but it is not always as easy as it sounds. It takes practice, but also a little bit of cognitive unravelling to be able to draw what you see (and not what you - or your brain - thinks should be there).

Our brain loves a story. Our brain loves efficiency, and to be able to move on to the next thing, quickly. That is just how we are built - a lot of that is tied up in our survival as a species, and it is still hanging out there in the old grey matter, even if it is not particularly helpful for developing our realistic drawing skills.

At our earliest levels of school we are given symbols to draw, and they fast represent what those items are for the rest of our life, even if subconsciously.

For example, we are taught to draw a house as a square, with a triangle roof, some square windows, a rectangle door, and maybe a chimney. Not many houses actually look like that, right? And a tree is a long trunk with a lollipop or cloud like crown of leaves. There might be a branch or two at the top, if your teacher was a bit fancy. Not really what a tree looks like, right? And an eye? Well, we are taught to draw it front facing - never at profile or three quarters view.

Our brains think those symbols, those easy to understand and draw representations, are realistic enough, and should stand in for all future representations of those things. Because… efficiency. We learned that, let’s move on (to the next shiny thing!)

Excellent.

But also really unhelpful when you want to realistically represent something you see before you.

There are ways to unravel those symbol driven narratives, but they take time and practice and a lot of self compassion.

Drawing is a skill.

It is learned.

Like walking, driving, reading, it is not something we come out of the womb able to do - all of these things take practice, take a willingness to learn, and take practice and practice and a little more practice thrown in. And practice. Yet we seem to be so quick to admonish ourselves for not being able to render a masterpiece (the definition of which is debatable and subjective, of course) with our first go.

We don’t say things like, “oh she is so talented because she can walk, I could never do that”. Or “he is so talented because he can drive, I could never do that”. Or “they are so talented because they can read, I could never do that”. We all can do all of those things - of course we can, and we do. It is not talent, it is practice.

So we also have to practise unbiased observation, seeing deeply, unravelling the symbolism we were first taught, mastering hand-eye coordination, having patience, and being compassionate with ourselves for trying and failing and trying again and learning.

These are all things that I love to teach. These are all things that I love to empower you to develop for yourself. These are all things that I love to support artists navigate their way through, and to cheer them on every step of the way.

These are all things I had to learn myself.

There are lots of ways to approach this - my favourite way is to start looking for the big shapes in order to find form, the roundedness of your subject. I also think focusing on negative shapes - the shapes OUTSIDE the subject, is really helpful. 

If you have watched and joined in on any of the free tutorials here in the Sketchbook Sanctuary you will have heard me talk about imagining to pat the being we are studying - what do their edges feel like under hand, how round are different parts of their anatomy. We don’t think about any of this when we are following our flat symbolic drawing, right?

And then I also like to think about becoming the being too. Rolling out our shoulders and feeling wings unfurl - dimensional, heavy, light, broad, small, long, short. Stretching our toes and feeling nails and leathery pads and furry feet meant for running swiftly and silently through the forest.

All of these things help build connection to what we are observing, and help us to start to think about the actuality of their shape and form, to unravel symbolism and really SEE. 

See the shapes, the form, the incredibly wonderful detail. And then want to see more.

Because the more you see, the more you see. 

Get on the Hedgerow waitlist if you would like to join a gentle, supporting community of artists learning to draw what we see, and revelling in that act of beauty and reciprocity. Doors are opening for just s short while later this week, and won’t be open again until October!