Tag: drawing

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Why drawing is essential for better painting composition

Deadwood, oil on linen, 30X40, $5072.00 framed, includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Drawing is just thinking on paper, which is why I wonder why more people don’t do it.

I don’t mean the kind of drawing that gets framed and hung on the wall. I mean the scrappy, workmanlike, problem-solving kind. The kind with arrows, numbers and scratched-out lines. The kind you do fast, running through several iterations in order to work out ideas. Carpenters do them; gardeners do them; engineers do them. So why are so many painters—whose work is first and foremost visual representation—resistant to drawing?

I only do pretty drawings on Sunday. The rest of the week, I do fast compositional studies. These are visual notes about structure, value, and design. They’re where I wrestle with composition before I ever dip a brush into paint.

All Flesh is as Grass, oil on linen, 30X40, $5072 framed, includes shipping and handling in continental US.

It’s nearly impossible to save a painting with bad composition, which is why strong painting composition starts with drawing. You can tweak the color harmony. You can punch the contrast. You can add tchotchkes. But if the underlying design is weak, the painting can’t be resuscitated.

That’s why I encourage my students to start with drawing.

Value studies for painting

In plein air painting, drawing quickly to establish value masses is essential because the light changes rapidly. When I’m planning a plein air painting, I don’t start with color. I investigate the interplay of dark and light shapes. Because while all three aspects of color (hue, chroma and value) are important, value is the first thing we see. That’s built into the eye-brain system.

Grain elevators, Buffalo, NY, 18X24 in a handmade cherry frame. $2318 includes shipping in continental US.

How to improve painting composition

In the classical atelier tradition, students spend a long time in drawing classes before they’re allowed to paint. That isn’t snobbery; it’s practical. Good painting rests on good draftsmanship.

Drawing clarifies value patterns before color seduces you. It reveals tangents before they sabotage your focal point. It tests whether your big shapes are interesting or not.

In my own work, I often do three or four thumbnail sketches before committing to canvas. I shift horizon lines. I exaggerate diagonals. I simplify multiple objects into a single mass. I change up the importance of various elements. I’m not trying to draw expressively; I’m trying to be clear.

That clarity pays dividends later. When cold wind is whipping down Beech Hill or shadows are lengthening across a cliff face, I don’t have to reinvent the structure.

If you struggle with muddy paintings, scattered focal points, or unbalanced compositions, the problem isn’t your paint handling. It’s your planning.

Winter lambing, oil on linen, 30X40, $5072 framed, includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Drawing for painting

People who tell me, “I can’t draw a straight line,” believe drawing is a gift. In fact, it’s a simple system of measuring distances and angles. It doesn’t take long to learn. I taught my friend Amy Vail to draw in one short session; a week later, she was drawing like an old pro.

Drawing needn’t be any more refined than the task at hand requires. That may be a plan for a chicken coop or a finished portrait, but the basic skills are the same. In either case, drawing is thinking made visible. The more you practice that kind of thinking—through value studies, compositional sketches, and disciplined observation—the more confident your painting process becomes. You are less reactive and more in control. Your painting failure rate will drop way down.

If you want to improve your painting composition and value structure, join my How to See Like a Painter Zoom class, starting next Monday. It’s not a drawing class per se, but it focuses on the compositional elements that make drawings work, including the question of how to work from photos without being a slave to them. Or, consider Painterliness: Looseness and Bravura Brushwork, which meets on Tuesday evenings. It will focus on avoiding overworked, timid paintings by getting the mark intentional and right on the first strike.

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The benefits of doodling

Some days my head feels like this.

The 1960s and ‘70s were no time to be a traumatized child. Drawing and doodling saved my sanity. So why do some educators persist in limiting doodling in their classrooms?

Doodles are found on the margins of ancient manuscripts and cave walls, which means that spontaneous acts of drawing have been with us for far longer than we’ve penned our kids up in school.

Research shows that doodling helps with memorization and concentration. Our minds are free to wander when our hands are busy. Of course, none of that was known when I was in school; I imagine my teachers just thought I was hopeless.

A 2009 study showed significantly better memory retention among doodlers than among non-doodlers. Perhaps that’s because drawing relieves stress.

If there’s any subject I can draw mindlessly, it’s trees.

I take notes on my laptop, and it’s a terrible habit. Whether we ever look back at them or not, writing notes results in better retention. More words are better than fewer, and writing by hand is better than tapping them out on a mechanical device. For one thing, you can’t draw all over your phone screen.

The key lies somewhere in our muscle memory, because drawing instead of writing results in even better memory retention. It doesn’t matter if what we’re drawing is ‘relevant’ or whether the pictures are objectively good.

Doodling and drawing (which I would classify as forms of active daydreaming) are means of bypassing conscious thinking. There are times when I’m drawing and listening and need to think out measurement, anatomy or perspective. However, I never tune out what’s being said.

Doodling is said to be a form of fidgeting. It’s less obnoxious than what I’d do without a sketchbook: whisper to my neighbor, tap my knee, or make faces at the kid in the next row. Even at 66, I’m not very good at sitting still.

Sometimes it’s nonsense, and sometimes it’s sheer nonsense.

Why did the benefits of doodling go unrecognized for so long?

I had two high school painting students in the same year. M. was a stellar student and his teachers never minded him drawing in class. S. was, sadly, much more like me: a poster child for ADHD. He got in trouble for doodling. He needed the outlet and was perversely denied it because of his attention problems. To his teachers, he seemed inattentive or bored.

Doodling can be seen as a distraction. Teachers, like everyone else, have personal styles, and some prefer tightly-structured classrooms. Educators, so sorely-pressed to meet top-down academic standards, may think doodling undermines those objectives.

If the subject requires careful drafting, yes, I have to pay attention… at least for a while. But I’m still listening.

Embrace the benefits of doodling

My son-in-law recently thanked me for letting him know that “you’re allowed to draw in church as long as you’re an artist.”

I reminded him that an artist is someone who makes art, so by definition every doodler is an artist. Until the recent past, the definition of ‘artist’ or ‘musician’ was much more fluid, because people had to make their own entertainment, diagrams, and decorations. Is it coincidence that, as we’ve stopped drawing and making our own music, our society has become so anxiety-laden?

This centaur unexpectedly dropped into a recent drawing class (he was supposed to be a horse), and he still makes me smile.

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Monday Morning Art School: cloud painting

Fog over Whiteface Mountain, 11X14, $1087 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Cloud painting trips up emerging artists more than any other element. To paint clouds properly, you must first draw them properly. Clouds are not are flat little cutouts, and rendering them like that marks a painting as amateurish. The same perspective rules that apply to objects on the ground also apply to objects in the air.

A two-point perspective grid. You don’t need to draw all those rays, just the horizon line. The vertical lines indicate the edges of your paper.

 Clouds have volume

I’ve written before about two-point perspective. It’s a great theoretical concept but a lousy way to draw. However, understanding it is useful, especially in cloud painting.

Draw a horizontal line somewhere near the middle of your paper. This horizon line represents the height of your eyeballs. Put dots on the far left and far right ends of this line, at the very edges of your paper. These are your vanishing points.

A cube drawn with perspective rays. It’s that simple.

All objects in your drawing must be fitted to rays coming from those points. A cube is the simplest form of this. Start with a vertical line; that’s the front corner of your block. It can be anywhere on your picture. Bound it by extending ray lines back to the vanishing points. Make your first block transparent, just so you can see how the rays cross in the back. This is the fundamental building block of perspective drawing, and everything else derives from it. You can add architectural flourishes using the rules I gave for drawing windows and doors that fit.

As a practical tool, two-point perspective breaks down quickly. In reality, those vanishing points are infinitely distant from you. But it’s hard to align a ruler to an infinitely-distant point, so we draw finite points at the edges of our paper. They throw the whole drawing into a fake exaggeration of perspective. That’s why I started with a grid where the vanishing points were off the paper. It doesn’t fix the problem, but it makes it less obvious.

All objects can be rendered from that basic cube.

(There is also three-point perspective, which gives us an ant’s view of things. And there are even more complex perspective schemes. At that point, you’ve left cloud painting and entered a fantastical world of technical drawing.)

Basic shapes of clouds using the same perspective grid.

Clouds follow the rules of two-point perspective, being smaller, flatter and less distinct the farther they are from the viewer. The flattest part of cloud paintings is at the bottom of the sky. All you see of clouds directly overhead is their bottoms. In between is a steady shift from side view to bottom view.

A flight of cumulus clouds or a mackerel sky is always at the same altitude. That means their bottoms are on the same plane. That’s because clouds form where the temperature changes.

We paint cumulus clouds because they’re ubiquitous and lovely. Luckily, they form up in consistent patterns, with flat bases and fluffy tops. I’ve rendered them here as slabs, using the same basic perspective rules as I would for a house. In reality, their bases aren’t square and their tops are far puffier. This is just so you see how they’re distributed in the sky.

When cumulus clouds start piling up into thunderheads, they appear to violate this rule of perspective, but that’s just because of their vast size.

Basic shapes of clouds using the same perspective grid.

I don’t want you to go outside and paint clouds with a perspective grid. This is just for understanding the concept before you tackle the subject. Then you’ll be more likely to see clouds marching across the sky, rather than pasting puffy white shapes on the surface of your painting.

Maynard Dixon Clouds, 11X14, oil on archival canvas board, $869 includes shipping in continental US.

Painting starts with drawing

In order to paint, you must first learn to draw. Sometimes people point to abstraction to argue otherwise, but simplification actually requires top-notch drawing chops.

That’s why I’m teaching a drawing class on Monday evenings starting a week from today. This class is always a hard sell because people think drawing is ‘hard’ or ‘boring.’ Nothing is farther from the truth. If you’re trying to be a better painter, start by refining your drawing skills.

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Monday Morning Art School: draw yourself a very merry Christmas

The ornaments we chose: a simple sphere for me and a globe-spider for Sandy.

I was surprised to learn that a few of the things on my tree are vintage post-war Shiny Brite ornaments made by Corning. That’s not because I’m chic, but because I never replace what ain’t broke. Here’s a Christmas-tree exercise Sandy Quang and I first did in 2017. All it takes is a simple, round, reflective ornament, and you can draw yourself a very merry Christmas indeed.

Those of you who don’t believe in Santa Claus or haven’t found the ornaments yet can find other spherical objects: marbles, snow globes, billiard balls, or even some tiny planetary bodies, if there are any revolving around your house.

Noting the axes.

Sandy was my painting student and went on to get a BFA from Pratt and an MFA from Hunter. She’s also my goddaughter, so it was no surprise that she was hanging around my living room in the runup to that Christmas.

I asked her if she wanted to draw with me. As all my best students do, she had her sketchbook tucked in her backpack. I gave her first dibs and she chose the spider ornament; that left me with the plain globe.

We both added details. Mine were the ellipses on the collar of the ornament; Sandy’s were the beaded legs of the spider and her first markings for reflections.

I’ve written about drawing a pie plate, which is the fundamental skill underlying all column-shaped objects from cups and dishes to lighthouses. Each are a series of ellipses on a central axis. A circle is even easier to draw. And a sphere looks like a circle when it’s down on paper. What could be simpler?

Both of us started with the axis of our drawing. For me, that was the vertical axis; for Sandy it was the axis holding her circles together. I mention this because when people say “I can’t draw!” they seldom realize how much of drawing is simple measurement. It’s best to learn this from life, since the measurement has already been done for you when you work from a photo. You can easily work back from life drawing to working with pictures, but it’s harder to go the other way.

Marking out the outlines of our reflected shapes.

Next, we put the appendages on our spheres. For me, that meant measuring the ellipses in the collar, as I demonstrated in that pie plate post. For Sandy, it was the beaded spider legs. Sandy was starting to note the overall areas of reflection in her spheres.

Sandy and I chose different approaches in the next step, dictated by the paper we were working on. Because I had a smooth Bristol, I was able to blend my pencil line into smooth darks with my finger. Sandy could only work light-to-dark on the rougher paper she was carrying. This gives you the chance to see two different approaches to shading.

We both worked on shading next. I finished my shading with an eraser, Sandy couldn’t do that because her paper was too rough.

Sandy has a shadow under her final drawing because the ornament was sitting directly on my coffee table. I put the reflection of myself drawing in my ornament.

All drawing rests on accurate observation and measurement. Get that right and the shading and mark-making is simple. A very merry Christmas indeed!

Our finished drawings: mine on the left, Sandy’s on the right. From there, it’s just a hop, skip and a jump to painting them.

What does this have to do with you?

Yes, I’m on a drawing tear, because it’s the single most important thing you can do to improve your painting in 2025. I still have room in my drawing class starting right after the new year; if you’re frustrated by your painting, start with the fundamentals.

This post originally ran in December, 2017. It’s been updated, of course.

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Monday Morning Art School: How long does it take to get good at drawing?

Yesterday’s outdoor church service and picnic, drawing by Carol L. Douglas. I knew I didn’t have time to draw each figure, so I made them a single mass.

On Sundays, I have between 35 and 40 minutes to draw, because that’s how long Quinton Self will preach. After decades of drawing in church, I can tell you exactly where the pastor is in his or her sermon; I almost always wind up at the same time.

It’s helpful to know how long you have to draw, because you can choose your level of finish in advance. A 30-second gesture drawing and a three-hour portrait can both be stylish, finished drawings that tells the viewer something about the subject. But for either to work, they must be planned.

A preparatory drawing for a painting.

What’s the difference?

Gesture drawing captures the essence and movement of a subject quickly, focusing on flow and rhythm. A finished drawing involves refining details and form for a polished representation. The technique in gesture drawing is loose and spontaneous, whereas finished drawings require precision. Gesture drawings may take just a few seconds, while finished drawings can take hours or even days, depending on complexity and detail.

A quick sketch, not more than ten minutes.

Why draw in the first place?

I primarily draw as the first step in designing a painting. It’s far faster than sketching out the idea in paint, only to realize that the composition I had in mind is weak. I’ll draw when I don’t have time to paint or it’s not appropriate (as in church). But all that implies that drawing is somehow lesser than painting. Drawing is a powerful form of expression on its own.

Sometimes I’m the only one who’s amused. From a poem by John Betjeman.

How long does it take to get good at drawing?

It’s a disservice to beginning painters to not insist that they first learn to draw. It’s also a disservice to let them think that drawing is a magic trick or something we’re born knowing innately. Anyone of normal intelligence and vision can draw; they just need to learn how.

It doesn’t take long at all to learn. I taught my friend Amy Vail to draw in one short session; a week later, she was drawing like an old pro.

And sometimes I’ll work out something I don’t plan to paint.

From sketch to realized work

Sometimes you need to sketch before you can draw. Finished drawings require composition, proportion, lighting and perspective, just as finished paintings do. Andrew Wyeth created many drawings before he dragged out his paint kit, and many others just for the sheer joy of drawing.

Knowing how long you have to draw is your best tool to finish strong. That’s not always possible; for example, you will never know how long you have to wait at the doctor’s office. But when you do, you can direct your pencil to what matters in a sensible way.

I don’t have a drawing class scheduled, but if you want to take it next time it’s offered, email me here and I’ll put you on a list.

An apology

Right before I left to teach aboard American Eagle last week, my laptop converted itself to a brick. (That happens to me frequently, and I can’t really explain why.) Friday’s blog post was written on my phone, and it reads like it. Sorry about that.

When I got home, I told my daughter I needed to order a replacement. “Don’t do that!” she said. “Your new one is already there!” I’m typing on it now, using remote desktop. Any bumps in the road going forward are just from reinstalling software and restoring my last backup. I hope this one lasts longer than 29 months I got out of the last one. Sigh.

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Monday Morning Art School: angle drawing

Slightly more obtuse than 90°, almost exactly 90°, more acute than 90°. It’s far easier to see when you can compare it to accurate reference (and no, you don’t have to know those terms).

During last week’s workshop, Beth, Sharon and I were looking at a house on Pearl Street in Camden. I’d given them a lesson on two-point perspective and then said, “That’s just so you understand the principle. In real life, you’re going to measure angles rather than draw to a vanishing point.” That’s harder to do, because angle drawing takes practice. However, all drawing rests on angles and measurement.

“That gable end looks like it’s at a 90° angle,” Sharon said. Beth and I immediately disagreed. Of course we were roughly twenty feet away from her, so what we were seeing wasn’t what she was seeing. I heaved myself up (it was a hot day) and looked at what she was doing. She was holding an L-shaped composition finder up to the sky. Immediately I grasped an important new idea.

The angles that matter, very roughly, because it’s hot as a pistol in my driveway.

If you hold something that you know to be a right angle up to the angle you’re measuring, you can see how it deviates.

We’re all carrying around something that’s got a right angle: our sketchbooks. Failing that, we always have our cell phones.

Sharon’s view was, in fact, exactly 90°, but the idea was also useful to Beth and me. From our location, the angle formed by the gable end was about 10° flatter than Sharon’s view. I experimented holding my sketchbook up to various angles in the landscape and was pleased at how easily I could see angles.

(By the way, a roof where the gable end is at 90° looking straight-on would be a 12/12 pitch, which is pretty steep. Most of the time, when you see a 90° angle, it’s because you’re looking at it from off to one side.)

What if it’s so far off 90° that it’s hard to make a comparison?

I was on a roll, so I estimated other angles using Sharon’s idea. That was fine until I was so far off 90° that making a comparison no longer worked.

Drawing a hashmark parallel to the top and bottom of the fence was easy. Taking a photograph of those marks was hard.

What if I held my sketchbook level with the ground and marked that angle as a hash mark in the corner, I asked myself. Then I can easily translate that line into a parallel one where it belongs in my sketch. And, yes, that worked too.

My neighbor’s fence. Three minutes, tops, because I was standing along Route 1.

Angle drawing is important

Angles are critical to representing perspective. They also create the illusion of depth and space. Being able to sight-draw them allows us to draw objects from different viewpoints.

But, wait, there’s more. Angle drawing is important for:

Measurement: it’s often easier to see spatial relationships through angles than with the thumb-and-pencil method of drawing. (Fast, loose  painting rests on a base of good drawing. If you haven’t been taught to measure with a pencil, start here, here and here.)

Anatomy: Angles are essential for capturing the relationships between different parts of the body. This is particularly important in drawing limbs, posture and facial features.

Shading: Angles influence how light falls on an object and how shadows are cast.

Dynamism: Angles contribute to a sense of movement and energy in a drawing.

Foreshortening: You can’t foreshorten an object if you can’t see the angles, period.

That means any trick that makes angle drawing easier, I’m going to use, and I hope you do, too. Thank you, Sharon.

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Pride goeth before a fall

Early Spring on Beech Hill, oil on canvasboard, Carol L. Douglas, 12X16, $1449 framed includes shipping in continental US.

On our way to Erickson Fields, my husband exclaimed, “We forgot our cleats! Should I go back?” I’d walked our usual 4.5-mile hill trek on Sunday and it wasn’t terrible. Besides, I was in a hurry.

The trails that converge on the top of Beech Hill are very popular. In the summer, that means you go as early as possible. In winter, foot traffic polishes the trails to a glossy finish. It was especially bad Monday morning; I’d made the wrong choice.

Athabasca Glacier, 14X18, oil on linen, $1275 includes shipping and handling in the continental US.

“It’s like walking on the Columbia Icefield, but worse,” I grumbled. But I’m an experienced old bird, and I carefully picked my way to the top.

“I managed to not fall,” I said gleefully as we crossed back into Erickson Fields. “In fact, I haven’t fallen one time this whole year.” Which was stupid, since it’s always the downhill slope that gets you. Sure enough, a second later I was flat on my back on the ice. To add insult to injury, I did it a second time. That kind of pain takes a day to kick in but 48 hours later, everything hurts, including my fingernails.

I had a very tight schedule. I would work with Laura (my IT and PR person) until 2, take a break to paint woodwork until 4, and then set up a demo for my Zoom class on color bridges. We have new furniture coming for our guest room, and this house has never had the upstairs floors properly painted in its 125 years of existence. Thrifty New Englanders, they left the parts covered by area rugs as raw wood, with painted borders like monks’ tonsures.  I reckoned that if I did the woodwork on Monday, above the chair rail Tuesday night, below on Wednesday, and the floor on Thursday, I’d finish it just under my self-imposed deadline.

Mountain Path, oil on archival canvasboard, 11X14, $1087.00 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

“I can’t handle this pace,” I told myself, and then stopped and berated myself for being so negative. “Of course I can. I’m not tired and everything’s ticking along like clockwork.”

That’s when I got a message from a student in my new drawing class, which meets Mondays, 1-4. “I’ll be ready as soon as I get this cat off my lap,” she wrote.

“What?” I spluttered. “We don’t start until next week-do we?”

Turns out that the class, for which I’d done no marketing and no prep, did indeed start on Monday. Pride goeth before a fall, indeed.

Drawing is the bedrock on which painting rests, and if you can’t draw, you’ll have a hard time painting. I’m teaching this class because I need my painting students to be good draftsmen. I’ve got the four students I’d earmarked as needing it, but there’s still a lot of open space. If you think you’d benefit, I’m prorating the fee and making the video from Week 1 available, so you won’t miss anything. Our subjects are:

  • Basic measurement
  • Perspective
  • Volume and form
  • Drapery and clothing
  • Drawing the human face
  • Trees and rocks

You can register here.

Winter lambing, oil on linen, 30X40, $5072 framed, includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Critique

Before I forget, I’m also offering a four-week critique class starting on February 19. Your job is to paint during the week, and our mutual job is to analyzing our work based on the standard canon of design elements. This is not a touchy-feely class in any way; it’s meant to give you the tools to analyze your own paintings without falling victim to your emotions. I’ve taught this many times and my students have always been polite, enthusiastic and supportive, so there’s no reason to be nervous.

You can register here.

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Monday Morning Art School: representing volume

Home Farm, 20X24, oil on canvas, $2898 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Volume is the three-dimensional space occupied by an object. For example, in Home Farm, above, each of the buildings has a height, width, and depth, and the product of those three things is its volume. Form is the artist’s representation of volume, and shape is the space enclosed by a line or lines.

The Dance, Henri Matisse, 1932-33, courtesy the Barnes Collection.

Usually, we start with a line drawing (shape) and then use modeling to create form. However, there are many instances in which form is implied with no modeling at all; see Henri Matisse’s The Dance, above, for just one (superb) example.

Before you can progress to modeling, you need to create accurate shapes. This starts with measurement, which is most often done with the pencil-and-thumb method and with angles. A theoretical understanding of perspective helps as well. (I am convinced that anyone of normal intelligence can learn to draw, given patience and perseverance.)

The Laborer Resting, oil on linen, 36X48, $4,515.00 framed, includes shipping and handling in continental US. Satin, linen and lace each reflect light differently.

When we think about modeling, we think of shading, which is the technique we use to represent light and shadow on an object’s surface. Start by observing how light interacts with the objects’ surfaces. If they’re shiny, the value range (light to dark) will be much greater than if the surfaces are matte. Likewise, if the light is close by, shadows and highlights will be harsher than if the light source is far away or filtered.

Our first task is to identify where the light is coming from. The direction and intensity of the light will affect how shadows are cast, and where highlights appear on the object. But to confuse the issue, light can bounce around and shadows can overlay other shadows. A good understanding of light is important, but it can never replace observation. By that I mean observation from life, for just as cameras compress color, they also compress greyscale.

Two Peppers, oil on archival canvasboard, 6X8, $435.00, framed, includes shipping and handling in continental US.

We use gradation to model changes in light levels. That can take the form of carefully blended charcoal, graphite or, indeed, paint. Sandy Quang and I demonstrated drawing globes in pencil here, so you can follow our steps to practice drawing shiny round objects.

Gradation can also be implied with the use of hatching, cross-hatching, stippling, or rough paint or lines. In the two peppers above there is no blending at all; the mind fills in the gaps.

Your specific technique for gradation isn’t as important as your observation of how the light levels and patterns tie together. This can be complicated.

Every painting has highlights and core shadows. The highlights are the brightest areas in the picture, usually facing the light. Core shadows are the darkest part of the picture, usually opposite the light source. Highlights may be absolute white and core shadows absolute black. Although we could draw them like that, modern painting tends to shy from either true white or black. (Even watercolor paper is not harshly white.) That, however, like so many other things, is a trope of our times. The Baroque masters of chiaroscuro relied on absolute black to set the dramatic mood.

Highlights and core shadows are easy enough to spot. What is more difficult is fitting the mid-tones in, in a consistent series of steps from dark to light, hitting all or most of the levels. If you don’t start with the highs and lows, it’s very easy to err on the side of being too dark or too light. This is where a greyscale is very handy, for light levels are infinitely complicated. I’ve tacked one at the end of this post; go ahead and print and use it.

Prom Shoes 2, oil on archival canvasboard, 6X8, $435 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US. The direction of brush strokes implies form.

Remember that brushwork and drawn lines themselves can imply volume by curving with the object’s surface. This is an effective technique in both drawing and painting.

Print me and use me, please!

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Sketching vs. drawing

Little Village, 6X8, oil on archival canvasboard, 435.00 framed includes shipping and handling within continental US. This is a field sketch.

“What’s the difference between sketching and drawing?” a student asked me. Since we were drinking cappuccino and watching a spectacular sunrise together, I asked my friend and fellow artist  Jane Chapin.

“Sketching is a thumbnail, while drawing is more careful and measured,” she said. “In sketching you’re trying to work things out in your mind; in drawing, you already have your idea.”

The simplest of thumbnails is still a sketch.

Both sketching and drawing use the same essential tools: pencil, charcoal, ink, and pastel. However, these materials can be deployed in an almost infinite variety of ways.

The terms sketching and drawing are often used interchangeably, but they have slightly different meanings. These depend on the work’s purpose, level of finishing, and technique. There’s no hard line separating one from the other; that is subjective. Neither one is inherently better or more valuable than the other.

This is a drawing even though it’s in my sketchbook.

For me, sketches are quick, rough, informal representations of something I want to capture on the fly. Or, they’re experiments in design and composition before I commit myself to painting. Sometimes I use sketches to explain ideas. I’ve even sketched out ideas of things I want to build. (That’s almost always a mistake; I’d make far fewer errors if I drew plans with a ruler.)

Then there are the stupid cartoons I sometimes make for my grandkids. But whatever their purpose, sketches are immediate and without extraneous detail. They’re loose and imprecise.

This is an idea for a painting reduced to its simplest elements and value steps; it’s a value drawing, but I’d call it more of a plan.

In painting practice, sketches capture basic shapes and values without focusing on fine details. The term value drawing is really a misnomer; most of the time what we really mean is a value sketch. That’s especially true when we’re making thumbnails.

Then there is the field sketch, which is the painting equivalent of a pencil sketch. It is invariably on the small side. It can be used to record color notes or light effects, but it’s as different from a highly-finished painting as a pencil sketch is from a highly-detailed drawing.

This is a character sketch for a larger studio painting. Those old Italian aunts!

Drawings involve more careful measurement with thought-out perspective and proportion. They are usually more detailed, with a greater emphasis on accurate representation. Drawings can include subtle modeling, refined linework and intricacy. They can be highly complex. However, sometimes they’re starkly simplified; detail is deleted in favor of abstraction. The drawings of Vasily Kandinsky are just one example.

Sketches are generally done with quick strokes, using pencils, charcoal, or ink. No great emphasis is placed on sophistication or finish; instead, a sketch is all about spontaneity and intuition. Drawings, in contrast, are more cerebral, as is the case with mechanical and architectural renderings. Drawings are more likely to be made as final works of art, and are often done with better materials.

This is another drawing that started out as a few diagonal lines in my sketchbook. I define it as a drawing because it’s fully realized.

Of course, sometimes sketches evolve into drawings, as happens to me when I draw in church. I start with a germ of an idea, often nothing more than the intersection of two or three lines. As my subconscious mind drives my pencil, my conscious mind begins to see threads and connections. I erase, redraw, erase some more, and in less than an hour I have a finished drawing. It helps that my sketchbook is highly-erasable Bristol; I have endless opportunities for revision.

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Monday Morning Art School: why you should draw

I draw every week in church, riffing off the sermon. Today’s was about persistence and hard work.

Nobody can master painting until they master drawing. That’s true for both abstractionists and realists, because drawing is how you express depth and dynamism. Painting is really nothing more than drawing with a brush. To build facility in paint, you first must draw.

Tens of thousands of years before there was written language, there was art on cave walls and cliffs. When words started being written down (around 3000 BC) they were first written in the form of pictographs. That tells us something about the importance of drawing to humankind.

I can draw things out of my head because I know how to draw from life.

Drawing is liberating

Drawing allows us to express ideas, emotions, and narratives non-verbally. For painters seeking to escape being literal, that’s critical. I can’t think of a single great painter who couldn’t draw. Vincent van Gogh famously taught himself, and his early drawings are bad enough that they should give us all hope that we too can do better. “Drawing is the root of everything, and the time spent on that is actually all profit,” he wrote.

It’s not just about putting pretty things down on paper. Drawing tightens up our observational skill. We develop a keen eye for details, shapes, proportions, and visual relationships. That helps us analyze and map both the world around us and our inner world.

All I need is a sketchbook and a #2 mechanical pencil. Anything else is just a refinement.

Much of drawing is about translating a three-dimensional reality onto a two-dimensional surface. That teaches us about structure and spatial relationships. If you don’t see the value in representing depth and space in a painting, take a deep dive into the work of Edgar Degas.

A lot of us stopped working on hand-eye coordination when we mastered cursive writing. Then we let it go when we started relying on computers, which is why so many of us have terrible handwriting. We need that hand-eye coordination for painting, and we develop it through drawing.

This is partly from my imagination, but the window is high up in our church building.

A study showed that drawing helps memory in young and old alike. Researchers speculated that it was because drawing draws on varied brain paths simultaneously. I think it’s because in drawing we must attend much more intensely. That reaps benefits not just in art but in life overall.

There is a gap between what we draw or paint and what is ‘really’ there. We like to think of that gap as a shortcoming, and to some degree it is. But it’s in that gap that we develop style, and where we do a lot of non-verbal creative thinking. Tracing from photographs will never allow for the soul to creep in like drawing does.

This was drawn when I had to sit in the foyer because there were no seats. I amused myself by imagining what was going on inside.

So why don’t we do it? The sad answer for many of us is that we’ve never been taught, so we’re frustrated and afraid to try again. We don’t grant ourselves the grace and patience to persist.

I’ve butted my head against this since I started teaching. Drawing and painting are closely related but I can only teach one at a time. That’s why I’m breaking a promise to myself to not work six days a week and offering a Saturday class on Fundamentals of Drawing, starting January 6. By Ash Wednesday, you’ll be well on your way to good draftsmanship. That in turn will lead to better painting.

Registration is now open for workshops in 2026! Reserve your spot:

Can’t commit to a full workshop? Work online at your own pace:

Seven Protocols for Successful Oil Painters