Category Archives: assignment four

assignment four

*I have revisited Assignment Four. Keep scrolling – the more recent entry is clearly marked in red – it’s quite a way down!

Assignment Four – First Attempt

There are three parts to this assignment – two figure (line and form), one portrait.

Two Figure Drawings – first sketches, first thoughts

My starting point has been two good friends willing to sit for a couple of hours (laptops cunningly deleted from sketch). I couldn’t ask for more but it was time enough to do three A1 sketches of each.

I sat them both on a sofa, framed by the staircase and looked down on by a knitted moose head – both of which featured in my Assignment Two.  I wasn’t thinking about the stairs or moose, but I was aware of a voice in my head trying to point this out to me.

Though these aren’t the poses I was initially after, I’m happy with them. They’re natural but quite different from each other. One sitter is confident, stretched out, feet up. The other is folded in about herself – arms and legs, one hand to the face, I am in her sight.


The relationship to the sitter is an interesting one, I think of Alice Neel and the engagement her sitters often show with her: intense, almost leaning forward. Diebenkorn’s ink sketches look as though he has just come across his  sitter, and would they mind keeping still for a minute or two? And at the other end is Matisse with his string of models seemingly always on hand.

These are the artists that have been in my head most while thinking through this Assignment (Richard Diebenkorn, Alice Neel and Matisse). I’ve long admired Diebenkorn’s casual ink sketches that capture splashes of light and movement. Matisse is an artist that will always stop me in my tracks. And Alice Neel is a relatively recent and very happy discovery, I’ve spent many hours absorbed in her work following a retrospective in an Arles gallery (see post under Research and Reflection: Alice Neel: Painter of Modern Life)


Reclining Model with Flowered Robe, Henri Matisse, 1923-24 via

Since working on this assignment I’ve discovered the strong influence Matisse had on Diebenkorn. I can’t wait to get my hands on the catalogue for Matisse/Diebenkorn – an exhibition at the Baltimore Museum of Art and SFMOMA this year (2017) though it’s proving a difficult order.

However Janet Bishop, who is curator at SFMOMA (and co-curator of the exhibition and co-author of the catalogue) features in a fascinating podcast by  Modern Art Notes that compares specific paintings, highlighting the Matisse influence – which for Diebenkorn seems to be specifically colour and composition.


Richard Diebenkorn, Untitled (Woman Seated in a Chair), 1963 via

It almost feels as if these two sketches are having a conversation with each other. Though Matisse dominates: the arms of the chair come forward to us, as if the chair could almost scoop us up in its arms. The sitter is natural and relaxed – almost to the point of inelegance. Fabric with an over-sized motif brings the sketch alive, creates a sort of vibration. And then the graphic handling of the space behind, and bold lines of fabric encasing legs. A disinterested expression. Strong light washes across both sitters.

Figure Drawing – Line


Developing one of the sketches… IMG_3721



My first question was landscape or portrait but as I tried to go landscape it took on a life of its own and became portrait.

IMG_3557Plenty of questions at this stage and plenty of things to investigate from getting the perspective right, determining a light source (it was coming in at all angles), media, colour?

I love the busyness of Matisse’s interior scenes and I’m certainly thinking about them here. Matisse seems to either fill his interiors with colours, all rubbing up against each other, or, in his pure line drawings what feels like a single piece of string bends and curves to miraculously contour up his drawing.


Organising the composition and perspective. The perspective is super tricky here, the end of the sofa almost touching my leg. I am almost there, not quite. There is a sense of hiding,  or is it of being hemmed in?

I’ve given the staircase a bigger role (need to decide on actual curved banister or replace it with a straight one – think the real-life curved adds more rhythm – needed with so many straight lines – also echo of leaves?).

The plant is finding its place – now a screen against the light – these plants are all about their eaten-out leaves – the light will filter through those holes. Or should it go at the end of the sofa (its usual place?). I quite like the inappropriateness of it. Like someone leaning over the sofa, intruding on that solitude. Though if I move it, there is a clearer conversation between the sitter and the stairs that asks questions.

The railings and the plant provide a continuous divide between sofa and outside world. Or are they containing? I find myself going back to an earlier theme – what is the difference between being safe and being trapped?


Colour? Media? This is where I always struggle. It comes down to lack of experience. I would be happiest using just a pencil, but A1 and even A2 is a huge area to cover with a pencil.

Tempted to use black ink alone, as Diebenkorn does, but I’m aware that I didn’t have a very clear light source for my sketches and I may make a mess trying to make up the shadows. The exercise asks for a line drawing though, so can I strike a balance between the dramatic light/shadow ink sketches of Diebenkorn and the clean lines of Matisse?

And then Alice Neel is pushing me to colour. I’m fascinated by the careless way she adds colour, never quite filling the canvas, choosing to leave some areas bare. She knows just what it takes, and will stop when she doesn’t need to say any more. Is a mix of the two possible?


Study for a Portrait of Andy Warhol
, black ink, graphite, and gouache on paper
6 x 4.125 inches  via

Intrigued to have found preparatory sketches of Alice Neel’s paintings where she has clearly indicated areas of shadow. I suppose this is so she can work at different times when the light has changed – so obvious, yet I didn’t think of that when I had my sitters in front of me – so keen was I to get the right lines in place.


Hartley and Ginny, 1970, ink and pencil on paper via (source:








Using black ink and brush I suddenly have a landscape sketch of a girl in a rubber dingy at a garden centre. This has thrown me in to doubt because although I was only testing the placement of the plant with the two of them, having even one now seems quite contrived and though that’s what I enjoyed at first, I’m not so sure now.

Some things are working though:

  • staircase bathed in light
  • drama of plant in black ink (from first trial)


  • I am going to struggle with the shadows around the Version 2body – not having taken note


  • Composition is still bothering me, moving back to portrait feels calmer but less lively. One issue seems to be the position of the sofa and staircase – it’s as if the sofa is about to go up the stairs. Or an unruly teenager has just pushed the sofa down the stairs. I know that artists move things around in composition all the time. Could I move the position of the sofa within my drawing?




A3 charcoal on newsprint

Took delivery of 10k of off-cut newsprint today, letting me scribble away to my heart’s content and not worry about wasting paper.

Have been trying different compositions to avoid the sofa/stair issue, but this means losing the far end the sofa which makes everything feel as if it’s on top of each other whereas this is about someone in a certain space. I want a structure around her.

I’ve considered moving the sofa forward of the staircase but I can’t get my model back for another sketch and I think I will struggle to match up the perspective, so I’m sticking with the original.



A2, pen and ink

Sketching out with a nib pen and black ink.

I like the spidery-ness of the ink and having my mistakes and corrections on display doesn’t worry me – the myriad of lines seems to create a kind of vibration.

Various things need fixing on this but compositionally it seems to be working better – the sofa feels further away from the bottom step. Not sure at this point whether I should add the plant back in, and again, not sure if it should be at the end of the sofa.



Feel tempted to colour in just the sofa – but will that be a bit too design-y? Maybe sofa and plant – these are the moveable things – the items that were brought in to this house, and can be taken away again.


A2 pen and ink, watercolour pencils

Very roughly scribbled in with watercolour pencils – two rusty colours and orange for sofa. Two greens for plant. When I went to add water it turns out the ink I had used is entirely water soluble – my brush eliminated lines, picking up the ink and depositing it in pools of watery ink. The whole feels like a painting left out in the rain. There are aspects I really like.IMG_3888 After the initial surprise I went back in with water to work some of the ink around the body, creating the merest suggestions of shadow.

I’m interested by how the plant has come out of this – the double outlines of the leaves, the extremes of light to dark, the not knowing what is actually there – the ‘dead’ structure behind or the living plant?

Quite excited now by how this might work out. I like how there is a ghostly quality, a fading in /out of body and its surroundings. We can’t be quite sure what is imagined, what is real. Are the girl and the stairs traces? imprints? Even the plant is joining in.

However, I have lost some of the light/dark drama of my earlier ink wash sketches, which was important to the whole – creating that sense of inside/outside – do we feel hidden or trapped?

Though there is a more obvious tension created by a staircase and a door. We enter and leave each others lives via staircases and doors, whether invited or not – friend or intruder?

Need to test out position of plant again (end sofa/behind sofa) and see how I can bring back in the intense light/dark. A voice is still whispering ‘moose head’ in my ear.


On the wall just behind where I’ve been sitting to draw is a print and a watercolour that I grew up with. My parents used to take in lodgers to help feed the gas meter and somewhere along the way an artist paid his way with these.

I love them both, with their faded colours and defiant 1970s aesthetic.

Somehow I feel their influence seeping in to this picture, or into the picture I want this to be. Which feels like I am coming full circle somehow. Back to the house with the scary stairs, the shadows on the landing.






Have gone back to look at Matisse:


Deux Personnages Féminins et le chien, Henri Matisse (photographed from book: Henri Matisse, Adrien Maeght Editeur)

(It’s probably time to confront the cheese plant – I think it’s a mix of things: childhood nostalgia, yes Matisse, but also it’s simply a fine plant with all you could wish for: structure, pattern, exoticism.)

The above sketch was one of a series Matisse did in preparation for a painting, though I prefer this, his final sketch. It has so much rhythm to it, the eye sweeps up the huge swathe of dark dress, arcs around the umbrella of a cheese plant and lands on the delicate reading figure. The cherry on the cake is the dog curled up at her feet.

There is a surprising mix of bold graphic shapes (the structure to the left) and loose sketchier areas (feet and dog), a certain flatness of pattern (plant and back wall) , but still some perspective (chair, floorboards). Then there is the extreme or dark and light for the dresses, and for the near floor/far wall.

I already have fairly bold graphic shapes but I’m not sure about the tones to use. I’d like to use a range from black to white like Matisse and Diebenkorn, but I’m slightly torn because I also like the sense that the room is bathed in light – that the hall and staircase lead to the light.

As ever I’m hesitant about media. My latest rough sketches were using an ink pen with a cartridge of unknown ink in it. When I added water the ink lifted and I could push it about on the paper.

Messing about with my options I plump for water soluble ink + coloured pencils. I end up adding intensity with the permanent black and green ink.


Final: Line Drawing, A1, ink and water-soluble colour pencils

Now finished, I have my doubts and I think it would have worked better:

  • without colour
  • with dark leaves against white wall
  • lighter, sketchier, airier

What specifically hasn’t worked:

  • I’m disappointed with the plant – it was working so well in my prep sketches but has become a bit flat and skinny in this drawing. I also think I’ve made a basic mistake of not sizing up the leaves to suit the larger paper.
  • The structural aspects have lost some of their rhythm. I’m torn between leaving them very open and sketchy and filling them in with blocks of dark. I’m tempted to darken the entire wall behind the plant and the floor and wall to left of sofa…..
  • My sitter’s shoulders seem too narrow though I’ve checked again and again with my sketches. I think she was sinking in to the corner of the sofa so her whole body titled left. But I can’t be sure.
  • The water-soluble coloured pencils looked great as they had water added to them, but now the drawing is bone dry they’ve lost the smooth intensity of colour and seem to have reverted back to dry pencils.

What I like:

I haven’t said ‘what has worked’ here, because I’m not sure anything has. The whole is a bit weird that has become normalised in my head because I’ve been looking at it on and off for so long. So I like:

  • The more delicate areas – around feet, top part of plant, staircase.
  • The boldness of the sofa right up close.

Figure Drawing – tone

Version 2

Final: Figure Drawing tone, A2, ink

This hasn’t turned out to be my best life drawing, but it had clear intention so I’ve stuck with it as part of Assignment four.

I had four hours in total with this model, split in to two sessions. IMG_3866

The first session produced this (image on left), so I’m pleased with the improvement, though of course it leaves me wondering what I could do with another two hours, four hours, six, eight…a lifetime?!

I’ve been obsessing over Richard Diebenkorn’s ink life drawings, pouring over his sketchbooks (, 2017), and listening to the Royal Academy’s podcasts – most recently a talk given by his daughter in which she talks about the Wednesday evening life drawing sessions Diebenkorn and a few other artists organised. She describes them as drawing sessions that went on late in to the night and how interesting it was to see the very different interpretations of the same model. She also mentions what a good natural model her mother was, and how her father would ask to hold a pose mid conversation while he grabbed his sketchbook.


from A4 sketchbook


I copied Diebenkorn’s ink sketch left (Untitled, 1964), to try to understand some of the decisions he took.

In hindsight I think the pose and the black pants and stockings help give this sketch its drama of light and dark but that said, there is still such confidence in the decisions of what is left blank, what is left to line alone, and then the mid and darkest tones.






from A4 sketchbook

A quick re-working of my life class drawing using a stronger Diebenkorn approach. I’ve been too bold in some places, not enough in other, though it’s an approach I will definitely work on.





from A4 sketchbook


Another re-working of one of my life-class sketches. Again I’ve gone in too bold (on the leg) and not left enough blank whiteness, so the whole has gone flat and muddy – that’s the problem with ink – once it’s down it’s down!









My final drawing doesn’t have the boldness I had been aiming for, though the set-up didn’t help me. It was a medium light, if there is such a thing, with little contrast. I am getting more confident at exaggerating what light and shadow there is, but I think I can push this further.

In the end I quite like the delicate quality it has – it feels rather tentative and old-fashioned. The likeness is good – the sitter asked if she could photograph it afterwards – I’m hoping because she was pleased rather than planning a lawsuit.

I’m happy with the bright light falling across her body (though it could be interested to accentuate this even further?) and the accents of dark shadow created around the foot and underarm. The right hand and right foot are a little fudged – I tend to leave them until last and then run out of time as I did here.



Before this part of the course I hadn’t done any portraits (excepting one hilarious attempt in OCA Foundations Drawing). It feels like a whole new world, there is a huge amount to learn.

For this assignment I’m sticking with a self-portrait for purely practical reasons – my face is always available to me. And I’ve made use of it, endless drawings that started out bearing no resemblance to a face, let alone my face. Slowly as I find my way around the bones and shadows, loose and taught skin, a resemblance is forming.

I’ve ended up with two portraits – created with and without thought.

Portrait One

I have spent enough time drawing this year to know that when I am faced with a new challenge I tend to tighten up, drawing carefully and without emotion – just trying to put down what I see, without regard to what I feel.

Which is why this self-portrait is interesting. I began it this evening, once the kids were in bed. I’d just got going on what I had planned to be a study of one eye when the phone rang. Without turning this into a radio 4 drama to rival the Archers, the information given to me on the call left me furiously angry about the treatment of someone close. The conversation then revolved around whether or not I should ‘make the call’ and tell the person what I thought of their behaviour.

Should I speak, should I stay silent, should I sleep on it? To open my mouth or not. Once the words are out they are out.

When I put the phone down, I found I had drawn this:


Portrait one, A4, felt pen

Which is kind of weird but very interesting. I had no idea what I was doing until I finished the phone call. And this doesn’t look like a mouth that has been gagged to me, it looks like uncertainty. There is a buzz of words on my lips, like a swarm of bees. Should these words be allowed to fly or not?

Portrait Two

Our hands are often by our faces, protecting, hiding, reassuring. My first self-portraits for  part four were with head resting on hand – a position I probably adopt too often. From there I went to drawing my face from touch alone. Which had me thinking about hands and faces. Our own hands are often by our faces, but to touch another’s face is possibly the most intimate gesture we can make. It can be loving but also threatening or controlling.

Two of numerous sketches, each time edging closer.


Self Portrait, 1958, Frank Auerbach

Some of the portraits I had looked at in the Research Point have stayed with me through this assignment, namely the Frank Auerbach self-portrait. Kathe Kollewitz also popped in to my mind regularly. Though I marvel at her skill, I don’t find her self portraits that interesting, though having said that, her images are firmly imprinted on my mind which surely shows their power.


Kathe Kollwitz self-portrait via


Hartley and Ginny, 1970, Alice Neel


Much covered in this part already is my current Alice Neel obsession, but there are two I haven’t yet mentioned that I saw recently in Lyon: by artists I had never heard of Louis Janmot and  Eugène Carrière.

Photographs of works taken at the Musee des Beaux Arts, Lyon

Janmot’s self portrait made me laugh – this wonderful earnest young man, trying to get his likeness just right. He’s bending forwards, leaning towards himself, the interaction is between him and his reflection, nothing else maters. It’s also very beautiful, with luminous skin. The Carrier portrait jumped out in a room of huge, bright, over-the-top oil paintings. It sat by the door, quiet, sensitive, intimate. It felt of a different time and place to everything else in the room

Aside from the Carrière portrait, what these have in common is a connection to the sitter, which may seem obvious, but I don’t think all portraits have this. Many just seem to about trying to ‘capture’ the sitter, but these portraits say something about the artist, and about the connection between the two.



Drawing my face using touch alone. I did a few of these – they all came out pretty much identical which I found interesting – as if touch is more true than sight.

I became very aware of bone structure: eye sockets, cheek bones, jaw bones. The mass of bone across the forehead. Then came the squidgy masses of cheek and lips, the gristle of the nose. Finally the feel of taught skin and not so taught skin.




I had started this portrait wanting to capture me looking for me, but the sketches using touch alone led me down a different path. I began to think about how to convey touch itself.

These two images are photocopies of my own hand with a sketch of my own hand meeting the other (pencil). I’m really happy with these images – all the more surprising because they took a nano second to do! A little like the trees on tracing paper image (part 3 expanse), I like the layering and delicacy, the ambiguity. I did consider adding my portrait to these images but really couldn’t envision it working, I thought it would look very clunky, and as ever running out of time I moved on to what had already developed in my mind – a memory that had resurfaced.


Portrait two, A2, charcoal

For some time after my mum died, I would wake up suddenly, convinced her hand had been on my face. That she had been standing by my bed. Which is creepy, and scary, and wonderful, all at the same time. So that’s where this self-portrait came from, though I think it’s ambiguous and I hope throws up questions. That the viewer will read the image according to his or her own history. Is the hand calming or threatening, real or imaginary, fantasy or nightmare?

Things that have worked:

  • the feeling of being alone  – of facing an experience alone
  • the feeling of waking suddenly at night and being somewhat lost, at sea, in that dark expanse
  • my expression, for me, captures a mix of emotion: the moment of trying to comprehend something, to capture something fleeting, the reminder that the loss is real. Though the reality is this is just my face trying to draw me.

Things I’m not so happy about:

As ever I had gone into this imagining something quite light and delicate, something suggestive, the ghost of a handprint….and yet I’ve gone all shouty – shouting out my story in dark charcoal with a very obvious hand. I don’t know how I feel about this – whether it happens this way because I don’t have the technique or skills to convey something with delicate touch?

As I start to draw I find I want to add more darkness – that all sounds a bit gothic – but it’s more about wanting the darkness to create a structure. It’s a more architectural thing I think.

I knew as I was working on it that the eyes would seem too big but I didn’t adjust them. At one point I wanted my face lying flat on the bed (so looking up) so held a mirror and a sketchbook precariously above – I think this is why the eyes seem to big – part of my face is pulled back by gravity, leaving the eyes behind!


The Modern Art Notes Podcast. (2017). No. 266: Matisse/Diebenkorn, Klimt’s Portraits. [online] Available at: [Accessed 25 Jun. 2017].

Royal Academy podcast An Introduction to Richard Diebenkorn

Royal Academy podcast Richard Diebenkorn: A Riotus Calm

Royal Academy: Gretchen Diebenkorn Grant

Matisse, H. (1995). Henri Matisse, a retrospective. New York: Museum of Modern Art.

Delectorskaya, L. (1988). With apparent ease … Henri Matisse. Paris: Maeght.

Bancroft, S. and Devaney, E. (2015). Richard Diebenkorn. London: Royal Academy of arts. (2017). Cite a Website – Cite This For Me. [online] Available at: [Accessed 22 Jun. 2017].


My tutor had suggested revisiting the line drawing of Assignment Four but I felt hampered by not having access to my model anymore and not having taken any photographs, only two sketches.  I tried to work with what I had but without my original source material I couldn’t take it forward.

*I’ve ended up doing two new drawings under this assignment

Second go at Assignment Four – Drawing One

As the temperatures soared this summer I got into the habit of sketching my youngest boy early in the morning as he lay in a twist of sheets after yet another hot and airless night. The images seemed to feed into the themes I had already touched on.





My boys spent one week away at a summer camp leaving their beds empty. Among other things was an eco-dying workshop, resulting in beautiful scraps of silk tinted by blackberry and borage. I was keen to use the silk but as it was slim scraps only needed to be incorporated into another background. It didn’t stand up well to glue, so I’ve put its use on hold for now, thinking I may be able to stitch in to something – another time.


Wondering about the colour of dreams, how we might interpret an image like this differently depending on the colours used.

Thinking about how I could add atmosphere had me digging out one of my favourite sketches, from William Kentridge’s Medicine Chest. I could look at this sketch for hours. It has the feeling of a grainy film still, which I suppose is what it is, but made by hand. We know the cat is moving, skulking behind the jug, its tail will flick up as it slips behind. The raven will startle, something will probably topple.


Charcoal Drawing from Medicine Chest (2001), William Kentridge

From Sotheby’s catalogue:  His drawings, gray and smudged, reveal traces of erased forms and altered lines; they speak to the ephemeral and malleable nature of memory.


Copying Kentridge: Charcoal, crayon and white chalk on brown wrapping paper

I was wondering if I could get that same kind of feeling in to this drawing. We are completely alone when we sleep, we inhabit another space.We can watch but we can’t travel with that person to the same place.



Crayon and charcoal on brown wrapping paper. Funnily enough this does have the feel of graphic novel (again!) to me, of one frame in a sequence. Perhaps in the next a shadow will come across the room. Or it will be bathed in light.


White gesso, charcoal, felt tip and white chalk on tissue paper (from shop and used to wrap clothes). Wanting to take the brown paper image further, with more texture, thinking about the creases on the sheet. In the end I barely crumpled this tissue paper, it has some creases and I flattened it out again to draw. It has a slippery surface so the gesso was really to let the charcoal stick but it came out whiter than I remember it being at first so I diluted it. A happy accident though, the figure is almost lost among these marks, as if lost in that other place. We can’t quite see him.


Felt tip with water brushed in to it plus small about Payne’s Grey watercolour. Thinking about sizing up the drawing to A1 I’ve gone back to a delicate touch on the expanse of white. The white paper in itself is a place of uncertainty, unidentifiable. I like the idea of the figure suspended in all that white.



Batting back and forth….

At this point I gave my son a photocopy of the sketch and asked him to colour it in. I like the idea that in some way he began the sketch by being the subject, I took over by drawing him, but he has taken it back. Not so much a partnership as a batting back and forth. And I wonder if these are in fact the colours of his dreams.

(photocopy of my drawing, coloured in by my son)



Final Drawing A1 Felt tip with water added, Payne’s Grey watercolour

I began with the very delicate touch of watercolour used in the sketchbook but on the vast expanse of A1 it just seemed too timid. When I looked at it from across the room it was as good as not there. I went in bolder, I still think it works ok but I would rather have kept the paint to a smaller area. I think this is the type of drawing that probably needs several goes (and lots of practice) to get right because of the nature of that pesky watercolour!

Second go at Assignment Four – Drawing Two

I’m pleased with my progress in life drawing, though the results are just wobbly sketches. Four drawings in particular I’m happy with. Three are of the same model – she sat for a group of oil painters – so took the same pose across two weeks. As the lone sketcher I drew her from different angles, moving around her. When I looked at the three resulting sketches, I had the feeling that I had been looking at one of those ballerinas in a box, turning endlessly around to a tinny tune.

Thus the thought of her slowly turning on a pedestal had been in my mind, along with thoughts about the life drawing class in general, the role of the sitter, the role of the sketcher. That from the moment the sitter undresses they cease to be student, dancer, mum, grandma. They are trapped in our gaze, a tangle of torso and limb.


Page from sketchbook with photographs of my life class drawings (originals are A2-A1 in size). Drawing the shapes over each other, seeing what happens…


Liking the interplay of shapes. It has less the sense of a body moving around on a box, and more a sense of time passing, of different positions held by one or more sitters.

I’ve referred to Diebenkorn in other parts of this course. Looking here at his sketches and that of Matisse, someone he was greatly influenced by himself. Letting all workings show, creating a kind of ghosting in the sketch.



The centre part of the image gets across perhaps less a shifting sitter but the sense of being trapped in this space, trapped by the surrounding gaze, obliged to stay still.

Awkward, protecting, arms wrapping around.






Working up onto A1/A2 in charcoal. I spent some time rubbing over the entire with charcoal then working back in and finally cropping down further and really boxing in my shapes.





I might prefer this (above) with it’s lead-line lines (almost like stained glass), but cutting across though the upper part does jar. Below feels more settled.


The finished drawing once again seems to reflect the continuing thread running through these drawings, that of my own claustrophobia and the possibility of different interpretations of a situation – threat or danger?

Taking Drawing Two into a different direction

Still wanting to do something with the original image of altered figures, and thinking about something my tutor pointed out to me – that I have a tendency to go in with heavy outline. I wondered if I could just use this as an exercise to vary my lines. It’s about line, not tone, so I don’t see this as an opportunity to let me edges totally disappear (with the light against the dark) but definitely a variation in line.



Began by dark lines everywhere, which I then rubbed out – left a satisfying even trace. For texture I took the paper outside on to concrete slabs and rubbed with charcoal. I was expecting more, the result reminded me of the tree bark frontage I had done earlier in the course.





Thinking of curtains, ghosts, screens, trees – adding white chalk. A sense of trees.


I like the delicacy, the sheerness, the suggestion but overall it feels a bit uncertain . Going in stronger…


Adding coloured charcoal and going in darker. While I quite like the tangle of lines at the torso – it directs the eye to the centre of the body where we hold on to everything – it also feels a bit clumsy. And I’ve gone back to heavy lines everywhere….which gives the figures a slightly rubbery, unreal feel – not in a good way. The lines have lost any expression I may have had in the initial sketches.


Taking out some of the heaviness with white charcoal. Thinking of going back in with the suggestion of trees. I’m happy with aspects of this but not with the lines themselves. Though some are forward and some are faded, they are all essentially the same weight. Playing with variety of line will be one of the key things I take forward to work on.


Anon, (2017). [online] Available at: [Accessed 31 Aug. 2017].