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Chinese Horses, Lascaux Caves.
15,000 -17,000BC


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A way to augment and stimulate your mind toward various
discoveries is this: look at walls splashed with a number of
stains, or stones of various mixed colours. If you have to invent
some scene you can see there resemblances to a number of landscapes
adorned in various ways with mountains rivers, rocks, trees,
great plains, valleys and hills
LEONARDO DA VINCI
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I
Chär kºl
- A poor man's diamond
Drawing is primitive. It is a reactionary
material, simple construction, and simplistic to use. A direct
and confrontational device always at hand whether a biro, pencil,
or burnt piece of wood. Painting requires a mastery of chemistry:
the right oil, the right pigment, and the right color combinations.
However, artists instinctively reach for a drawing tool and become
finely attuned to their handling characteristics in a short space
of time when there is a desired immediacy and simplicity.
Käthe Kollowitz's drawings and lithographs are a good case
study. Kollwitz's work, which was created with World War I as
a backdrop, is the prime example used in Art Colleges
and Universities in the United States when charcoal is introduced
as a new drawing medium. My colleagues in Foundation Drawing
classes routinely describe the 'edge and wedge' of a charcoal
stick that easily transitions from a line into a bold, wide,
black mark.2 Kollowitz, in her own words, describes a pairing
down of the subject, but she not only distills the human form,
but her conduit as well.3 Seemingly effortless lines carry weight
and dignity with every stroke.
How skillfully artists hide their practice by destroying labored
drawings as Michelangelo did, or by the use of the badger-hair
brush or a variety of other tricks. Chardin, in a speech before
the French Academy helps to expose the careful regimen of drawing
which continues unabated at some schools today, mostly relegated
to 'ateliers' and 'private tutoring'.
"They put a crayon in our hands when
we are seven or eight years old. We begin to draw from models
of eyes, mouths, noses, and ears then of feet and hands. For
a long period our backs are bent over our drawing boards in front
of the Hercules plaster torso and you have not seen the tears
brought on by the sculptured Satyr, this gladiator, this Venus
de Medici, this light before stationary and inanimate forms,
and then they confront us with life and suddenly the labor
of all the preceding years seems to count for nothing. One must
teach the eye to see nature and how many have not seen it and
never will. It is the torment of our lives. We are kept working
five or six years from the living model before they turn us over
to our own genius, if we have any. He, who has not realized the
difficulty of this art, does in it nothing worthwhile."
My own experience teaching life drawing with charcoal is based
on maximizing the potential of the materials employed, to match
the exercises intention. After a few weeks of gesture drawing,
plumb lines, measuring, angles, construction lines, outline,
contours, measuring techniques, and the introduction of anatomy,
students are anxious to try a full scale rendering of a properly
lit nude body. In order to make this difficult task easier, I
will introduce drawings by the 18th century French academician,
Pierre Prudhon. His technique of rendering in black and white
conté, stumping it down, and re-drawing allows for a unique,
cool, moonlit effect. Although at the beginning level, I am more
concerned with the accurate placement of form than a final polished
drawing. They begin working with willow charcoal and its unique
character is quickly revealed - a good sneeze will cause a drawing
to be vaporised. Vine charcoal, as it turns out, does not grip
the paper well. By using this tendency to their advantage students
more easily grasp the fact that their first lines may not be
accurate, and are in fact, quite easily erased. Usually this
encourages them to speed up, knowing mistakes are quickly undone.
I carry a chamois cloth in the classroom; students are expected
to have the same. As I walk past their easels and stop to consult,
I often encourage a little 'shammy action', and in seconds, their
drawing vanishes as if by magic. After a good hour or so of accurate
figure placement, I demonstrate what effect is achieved by pouncing
with the chamois - gently tapping the drawing down. When done
properly, a ghost image will remain. Just enough outline is left
so a more permanent tool, compressed charcoal, can be used. Thus,
the strengths of both charcoal products are utilized.
CAVE ART
'It is widely accepted notion amongst painters
that it does not matter what one paints as long as it is well
painted. This is the essence of academicism; there is no such
thing as good painting about nothing. We assert that the subject
is crucial and only that subject matter is valid which is tragic
and timeless. That is why we profess spiritual kinship with primitive
and archaic art.'4
Mark Rothko's wrote this as the fifth point
in a manifesto he published in 1943, ironically a mere three
years after the discovery of the spectacular Lascaux caves in
1940. Every young artist and art historian begins Introduction
to Art History with a slide show of the Lascaux caves. This rite
of passage may included memorizing the following dates and images:
The Great Black Bull, The Red Bull, the Black Stag, The Painted
Gallery, and most famously, the Chinese Horses. The availability
of a half-burned charcoal stick, during, or after a fire, and
its ability to make a black definitive line on the skin, stone,
or inside a cave, is an easy scenario to envision. The remnants
of what we see today, and I confess not to have seen them in
person, or even, the 'virtual' cave, betray a delicacy of line
and powerful imagery. There is a real sense of crossing time
and space when confronted with these images, the attention to
arched necks, flared noses and movement. Soon, too, it is easy
to imagine those members of a clan more inclined towards artistic
ventures, making a determination about what kind, and how long
they would let their blackened devices burn before extricating
them from a fire. The tendency of man to experiment would naturally
have lead towards the pulverising of charcoal into powder, which,
in addition to red ochre, were the most
commonly used raw materials for making stencils of hands. Taking
pigment into their mouths and blowing through reeds over hands
held in position achieved this result. These markings have been
found in many Paleolithic caves and different continents including
Australia.
Note: There is room here, for practical experimentation
as well as further anthropological research into cave art. Photograph
of author doing the same with charcoal would be included here.
ABORIGINAL ROCK PAINTING
Aboriginal people have been in Australia for
at least 40, 000 years. The oldest dated rock art is possibly
in the Kimberly region at 39, 000 years. The complete palette
beyond charcoal is not explored in this chapter: red ochre, yellow
ochre and white. Red ochre seems to have a staying power not
equaled in Australia by other pigments, although artists may
have simply preferred red ochre. However, when it comes to painting
on traditional bark, or contemporary canvas, all four are used
with satisfaction.
Today, a number of Aboriginal artists are using native earths
in combination with an acrylic binder. I would be re-miss not
to mention Geoffrey Bardon, who has written a book wrote, "Papunya
Tula, Art of the Western Desert", as he was the first white
man to introduce readily accessible and easily portable paint
to an aboriginal community. Bardon's spirit of experimentation
in order to achieve a goal of self-expression is important to
note - he is a kindred spirit. An artist and an art teacher,
Bardon encouraged his pupils to draw on their own culture for
artistic expression, rather than imitating the 'white-fella'
in style and content. Note: I plan to interview Geoffrey;
although I have heard it is difficult to do, I do have a lead
on his address.
Recent discussions with Tony Oliver, a former art dealer in Melbourne,
who ran Tony Oliver Gallery and now an Arts Adviser to the Jirrawun
Aboriginal Art Corporation in East Kimberely region of Western
Australia, provided some insights. He indicated the artists he
represents enjoy the link between the past and the present. The
acrylic binder is an easily accessible, fast drying medium that
mixes with native earths quite well. Oliver has promised a detailed
explanation concerning the acquisition and production of black
pigment. This would then be included as a point of comparison
with Cennino Cennini's description in the 15th Century to follow.
THE CRAFTSMAN'S HANDBOOK
HOW TO MAKE GOOD AND PERFECT AND SLENDER COALS
FOR DRAWING
'Take a nice, dry, willow stick; and make
some slips of it the length of the palm of your hand, or say
four fingers. Then divide these pieces like match sticks; and
do them up like a bundle of matches. First, smooth them and sharpen
them at each end, like spindles. Then tie them up in bunches
this way, in three places to the bunch, in the middle, and at
each end, with a thin copper wire. Then take a brand-new casserole,
and put in enough of them to fill up the casserole. Then get
a lid to cover it, luting it with clay, so that nothing can evaporate.
Go to the baker's in the evening, after they have stopped work,
and put the casserole dish in the oven; and let it stand there
until morning; and see wither these are well roasted.'5
One of the most revered writers concerning the techniques of
an artist is 15th Century Italian, Cennini Cennino. His description,
once translated from Italian, is easy to follow, precise, and
bridges five hundred years. Remarkable too, that the largest
manufacturer of willow charcoal today, a family operation in
England, Coates Willow Company, follows his instructions almost
exactly, additionally boiling the sticks before heating.6
In my search for authenticity, and in my further attempts to
grasp what artists in the past had been through, I investigated
this recipe for myself. I located a small company in Daylesford,
Victoria who manufactures cricket bats. Evidently, the best ones
are made from willow. We determined that the new shoots coming
off the young saplings would be most appropriate. I returned
home with a bundle under my arm and carefully prepared them in
the lengths equal to me palm as per Cennini's suggestion. These
were placed in a tin casserole dish with a fitted cardboard top
and slid into the oven at a local pizzeria. I neglected to mention
that the oxygen-deprived chamber would result in an excess of
carbon dioxide being generated, and the result was a rather unhappy
owner, who nevertheless returned my willow. Apparently, the pizzeria
was quite smelly in the morning. The first experiment was a partial
success; I did have, what is commonly known as a few 'brands'.
Brands are partially carbonized sticks. However, Cennini had
reassured me that I could simply re-do these at a later
date. My second set of experiments involved heating an outdoor
grill to approximately 300 degrees. The red-gum fire produced
a set of coals that appeared usable; I inserted a can of charcoal
with a tin foil top lid. It is necessary to stop the combustion
from occurring, yet allow a little oxygen inside, which allows
the wood to char.
The following morning I uncovered the charcoal and found a 90%
success rate. The charcoal handled as expected, was not overly
friable, nor excessively firm. Half had been left with their
bark on, and those proved tougher to use. What I now posses are
the simple concepts for making a range of tools suitable for
my art production. Further tests will involve larger sizes of
willow branches to produce enormous, by conventional standards,
drawing tools up to 10cm in diameter. This control over materials
has proved important to many artists such as Giorgio Morandi.7
CHARCOAL - WHAT IS IT?
Carbon is found in two distinct forms in nature,
crystalline and amorphous. Artist will find both forms interesting
as when properly manipulated, the results produce graphite and
charcoal respectively. Interestingly, another product shares
a common ancestry, its crystalline carbon atoms forming a rigid
structure, that is, diamonds. Would that through some alchemical
process all of our leftover charcoal bits and ground-down pencils
could be reformed into those precious gems! Charcoal is obtained
through the incomplete combustion of plant matter, wood, or bone,
by heating it in a chamber without air. Willow is the wood of
choice, because of its even consistency and fineness of particles.
COMPRESSED CHARCOAL
My investigation into the manufacturing of
compressed charcoal has yet to be completed, although the principles
are well understood. Compressed charcoal is essentially produced
be combining leftover, or broken pieces of willow charcoal, and
a binder. The dense black is a result of fine grinding. The binder
is gum arabic, the same as used in watercolour - which is an
excellent example of the concept of studio being more like a
kitchen referred to later in the chapter. The amount of binder
used
regulates the degree of hardness, which gives a wider selection
and greater consistency of quality from stick to stick.
HOW THE STUDIO RESEMBLES A KITCHEN
An excellent example of a Rosetta stone for
artists interested in the materials or techniques of art might
be the lowly mortar and pestle. This device, utilized in both
Eastern medicine and Western chemist shops, is at home grinding
calcium carbonate or burnt umber. Equally as interesting, is
its place in the kitchen, because the utensils, ingredients,
atmosphere and recipes of the kitchen are in many ways similar
to a studio.
The array of tools available, knives, whisks, pots and pans,
make for a multiplicity of options. From slicing and dicing to
stirring and whipping, in a properly organized kitchen, these
are all possible activities. The variety of foods form spices
to the main course, side dishes to dessert, all provide an opportunity
fir cross-contamination. Discovery of treats such as white pepper
ice cream and rosemary infused quince, only occur because of
the proximity of raw materials available. The mood in the kitchen,
dependent upon a variety of factors, timing, expiration dates
and results, are all 'X' factors in the final presentation. Perhaps
most important are the recipes, the Holy Grail - the Family Cookbook,
that alludes to fantastic dishes and promises of repeatable perfection.
A studio, too, may then be organized and efficient place to work,
with instruments nearby. Accidental mixtures do happen; jealously
guarded secrets are passed down through the generations - a long-standing
tradition complete with falling-outs, secret books8 and jealousies
both in the kitchen and in the studio.
CHARCOAL - MY OWN
The choice of materials, store bought, self-modified
or hand-made have distinct handling characteristics. As the nature
of charcoal is fickle, even the most reliable brand can occasionally
be imperfect, containing a deposit that disrupts the flow of
velvety texture. So too, most artists have experience the sudden
crack of a stick of vine charcoal mid-drawing when too much pressure
is applied. After precise honing by drawing with, or sharpening,
the entire experience is temporary halted. Worst still, when
brand-new charcoal pencils from 6B through 6H shatter on the
interior when dropped to the
floor, making them impossible to sharpen. These are the results,
and attributes of working with a non-manmade material. The imperfection,
the abstraction, the lack of control, these are reasons
to work with charcoal.
Charcoal has that distinct quality most often associated with
the conjoining of cotton candy and the upholstery interior of
your grandfathers' old Cadillac. Even better, bubblegum from
a hot pavement stuck to the bottom of his shoe. It has that capacity
to simply glom onto everything you wear into the studio, to some,
a badge of honour, to others, a burden. The sense of being clammy,
as in a cold sweat, comes over me when I find myself covered
with the by-product of oxygen-depleted willow. However, positive
results are achieved when you push past the initial sticking
point of vague irritability.
When first approached, a stick of charcoal appears quite plain.
A tool simply standing between my vision, and me something to
be consumed, conquered, and overcome. I find a good hour must
pass while working on a charcoal drawing for the transformation
to occur; all hope of keeping clean must be abandoned and you
become cognitive that your kerchief will contain a blackened
mass upon use. The pushing ahead, or, at least pushing on, inevitably
causes me to become emboldened. Like an athlete who has built
up a sustainable rhythm, an artist is now free to add or subtract
multiple numbers of lines. It is the complete acceptance of circumstance,
which allows a freedom to create. At times, I need to will myself
to relax and let a flow begin, to tap into an unconscious self.9
During these precious minutes enveloped in a cloud of charcoal
and with unwavering commitment, an artist may discover their
potential.
Interestingly, I am compelled to think about color when the charcoal
coalesces into an atmospheric suggestion. When rubbing or erasing,
or application of charcoal powder blurs lines, the appearance
of light penetrates forward; it becomes not a black and white
image, but a colourised one. What comes to mind is the argument
Vasari put forward when he divided the cities of Florence and
Venice into two different camps. The Florentine school represents
disegno, or form, with Michelangelo used as an example,
and the Venetian School by, colore, with Titian and his
expressive and mellowed colours.10 My intentions are to manipulate
the lines, allowing them to blossom into space, or restrain the
composition. So, the lines are made to produce light, or coax
it forward - these beams are often reflective ones bouncing off
polished medallions, jewels or conversely, distant solar flares.
Figurative suggestions surround the phantasms in my recent charcoal
work. Characters with titles emerge, names like: the King, the
Queen, the Commander, the Chief, symbols of power unconsciously
creep into the work, yet I would not describe it as figurative.
At most, my work has a figure-ground relationship. Figurative
versus non-figurative work is a consideration only so far as
when random areas appear to take on recognizable shapes and I
need to remove them.
So, then, the surface, the tool, the intent, three dispirit concepts
are melded into one for the viewing audience. Each interdependent
on the other, each carefully considered, each a challenge. Visual
systems and problems are set up with a plan devised to attack.
A gridded pattern might first be established then gradually melted
or erased, perhaps dusted.
The search for iconographic imagery is not a simple one. The
fact-finding mission can be circular, traumatic, an experience
like the children's rhyme ring-around the rosy: Ring around the
rosy, pockets full of posy, ashes, ashes, we all fall down! The
description of the Black Plague seems apt at times. As the whirling
concepts in the studio can result in a quasi-religious desire
to grasp at that one magic brush/the rosary beads that will save
the artwork. The posy, like the smell of a painting medium, permeates
the room, keeping the rotting canvas at bay. Ashes ashes, I collapse
on the studio floor. Although melodramatic, it does occur.
A cathartic experience such as described above points to the
supernatural potential the studio represents. Australian artist
Lloyd Rees, "As soon as I start to paint, I step into another
world. My best work is always spontaneous, intuitive; then it
becomes so absorbing, euphoric almost, it carries you along."
Many artists share this experience. Albert Pinkam Ryder, an American
landscape painter, makes the point beautifully,
'Try as I would, my colors were not those
of nature. My leaves were infinitely below the standard of a
leaf; my finest strokes were coarse and crude. The old scene
presented itself one day before my eyes framed in an opening
between two trees. It stood out like a painted canvasthe
deep blue of a midday skya solitary tree, brilliant with
the green of early summer, a foundation of brown earth and gnarled
roots. There was no detail to vex the eye. Three solid masses
of form and colorsky, foliage and earththe world bathed
in an atmosphere of golden luminosity. I
threw my brushes aside; they were too small for the work in hand.
I squeezed out big chunks of pure, moist color and taking my
palette knife, I laid on blue, green, white and brown in sweeping
strokes. As I worked,
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I saw that it was good and clean and strong. I saw nature springing
into life upon my dead canvas. It was better than nature, for
it was vibrating with the thrill of a new creation. Exultantly
I painted until the sun sank below the horizon, then I raced
around the fields like a colt let loose, and literally bellowed
for joy.'
Here at the beginning of the 21st Century
I am taking a look back, to archaic markings, symbols of power
and presence, to the original inhabitants of the Australian continent
and to contemporary artists engaged in the practice of making
art. I find challenges in these investigations, clues to where
I might go next, and a connection to the generations who have
come before.11 Drawing, is a reactionary material, simple construction,
and simplistic to use.
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