This little drawing , part of my daily drawing practice , a mere 6″, caused me a great deal of self doubt and personal loathing yesterday . For no matter how I tried , erasing , tweaking, scrutinizing every pencil stroke, I could just not get it right . The eyes were off , the ears imbalanced; I’d post it on Instagram only to delete moments later mortified that I had revealed my all too apparent inadequacies.
My last crit ( gosh I have skin as thin as Mr Trump it seems ) the facilitator questioned if I really understood the principles of anatomy or of perspective . And since then I have feverishly worked towards remedying that deficiency . If I am honest, not to solely improve the work but to avoid the humiliation of exposing my flaws . That criticism exposed all I hate about my work and by extension myself.
I don’t have as firm a grasp on perspective or anatomy as I might wish . Being self taught had its benefits but it has its negatives as well. I see other artists render the form with incredible grace and apparent ease. Yet I struggle and I will continue to do so. I plan on taking a course in perspective this autumn , for although I grasp the principles I haven’t the foundation that others possess. And I of course love drawing the body … Even if I suck at it .
But in the end , anatomy or perspective , qualities of light and dark, they aren’t what makes or breaks my work . They can enhance my intentions when I place brush to canvas but it is the spirit of my work ( of all work that I admire ) that makes my work satisfying .
Yesterday’s narcissistic masochism quashed that spirit . I want to be in a place where I can present lame sad -assed drawings and not feel completely debased .
It’s part of the process I suppose , one pencil strike at a time .
Now to work.