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.

My 2024 workshops:

The first rule is, there are no rules

Kisses for Wayne T, by Jennifer Johnson, courtesy of the artist.

As usual, I’m the behindest of artists at my own party. It’s the tenth morning of the 45-day-triple-watercolor challenge and I’ve finished… exactly four paintings. I think. Maybe it’s three.

Mary Silver’s keyring, courtesy of the artist. At least she can find her key now… it’s in her sketchbook.

I’ve lost count of how many people are playing, but it’s a good turnout. As usual, Robin Miller has gone off the rails, this year creating a character named Mrs. Quince, who collects things. “Everything was cross-referenced to avoid confusion. For instance, squashed soda cans would be listed under ‘S’ for ‘soda’, ‘F’ for ‘flattened’, and ‘E’ for ‘environmental nuisance’. Mrs. Quince also had her missing husband Sam entered in the computer. Sam was lost at sea in 1988 after joining the Merchant Marines. He was filed under ‘S’ for his name, ‘L’ for lost, and ‘M’ for memories.”

Robin Miller’s Mrs. Quince, who collects things, courtesy of the artist.

It would be a great boon for culture if Robin would retire from her day job and take up art full time.

I can’t publish everyone’s work here; there are too many people playing. I thought I’d give you a cross section instead. It isn’t necessary to be a watercolorist to play this game; Mark Gale of Austin bought his first watercolor kit last week and dove right in. On the other hand, there’s Mary Silver from San Antonio, who’s extremely polished. Texas seems to have a lot of people playing, including Judi Beauford and Cindy Schiffgens, whom I just met because she’s taking my workshop in Austin next month.

Cindy Schiffgens’ school bus, courtesy of the artist.

I can’t remember what prompted Becky Bense and I to start this game. I suspect one or both of us was suffering from painter’s block. Neither of us can manage the Strada challenge, which requires a new painting every day for a month. That’s not to knock it; those who finish it in the spirit in which it was intended will reap great benefits in brushwork and composition. However, it’s not always possible to devote several hours a day to painting-a-day. I did it once for a year and it was all-consuming.

Sandy Sibley is painting the contents of her purse. Courtesy of the artist.

Becky and I created the lazy-man’s version, and a big part of the idea was to discourage perseverating. That can be the death of watercolors, which benefit from quickness and a light hand. This challenge was intended to encourage quickness: three studies of a few minutes each, in pencil, monochrome and then color. We’re supposed to spend no more than a half an hour on the whole process. It’s a value-driven exercise that should leave room for spontaneity.

Mike Prairie’s dog biscuits, courtesy of the artist.

However, if there was ever a duo who color outside the lines, it’s Becky and me. So, the first rule is, there are no rules. If you only finish three paintings in 45 days (which is about where I came in last year), that’s okay. You’re three ahead of where you would have been if you didn’t do any. If you don’t start until the 15th and you go until March 1, that’s okay too.

Judi Beauford’s pages are as beautifully-designed as her paintings. Courtesy of the artist.

If you feel like perseverating, go ahead. Jennifer Johnson started painting three Hershey’s kisses and ended up finishing a careful tribute to Wayne Thiebaud. That was more than okay, that was excellent.

“Paint what’s right in front of you,” I suggested, and Corinne Kelly Avery did just that. Courtesy of the artist.

Sure, you can start today! Read the instructions, and then post your work here. Or just enjoy what other artists are doing. It’s all fine by me!

My 2024 workshops:

A game-changer for watercolor?

It's a danger when you come to visit; I probably will make you work.

It’s a danger when you come to visit; I probably will make you work.

Watercolor painters have several options for transferring their sketch to paper. They can hope they get it right without guidelines at all. That has never worked for me; I’m far too impulsive.

Or, they can sketch in light pencil lines. Pencil can be very charming under watercolor, but make the marks too dark or numerous, and they’re jarring. Excess erasing will damage the surface of the paper. As soon as you’ve painted over pencil marks, they’re fixed in place forever.

Underdrawing done with Pilot FriXion pen.

Another solution is to paint in guidelines with a very dilute solution of Neutral Tint and a tiny brush. This is a technique I learned from the late painter James Asher, and it works very well with his meticulous, carefully-realized style of painting. I’ve found it works better in controlled studio work than in loose plein air work, however.

My daughter Mary recently bought herself a Cricut machine and in the process of fiddling with it, learned about the Pilot FriXion pen. It comes in .7mm or .5mm and a variety of colors, and it erases with the heat given off by friction. For a watercolor artist, this has tremendous potential, if it means we can erase drawing lines using a hair dryer.

Diane’s watercolor before erasing the line drawing.

As I live in the deep woods, I was able to buy only a .7mm point; it was fine for my test, but I’d probably buy the finer point if given a choice. According to the package, the usable temperature range is 14-140° F.

My student Diane Fulkerson is visiting, so I asked her to test it for me. (I’m telling you the specific materials she used so that you, too, can do your own scientific tests). I gave her a sheet of Strathmore 400 watercolor paper. Starting with a quick drawing of a pitcher, a pear and a towel, she limned in the colors with QoR paints.

At this point the painting looked like a basic pen-and-wash exercise, and therein lies the danger of forgetting that these marks will completely disappear. When we hit it with the hairdryer, the marks really did vanish, leaving some lack of definition. “After the lines disappeared, I was left with just basic shapes,” said Diane. She then went back in and added shadows and a few details.

Diane’s watercolor looks a little barren without the pencil lines. Nothing a bit of painting won’t fix.

Will the lines reappear over time? I can’t say, but as an experiment, we tossed it in the freezer (around 0° F) for about two hours to see if the lines reappeared; they did, ever so slightly. Don’t store your finished artwork in your unheated north-woods cabin over winter and you should probably be okay.

After she erased the lines, she added more marks.

I bought a few more and I’m taking them and my hair dryer to Acadia to see how my Sea & Sky workshop students like working with them. If you try this, let me know what materials you used and how it worked.

“I thought it was cool,” said Diane, and I can’t disagree with her.