Making your mark

or learning new tricks

In the last two weeks there has been an almost imperceptible shift towards Spring, in spite of the chill, very damp days. Each walk to the Ling is now accompanied by birdsong, and although I always feel a pang as winter draws to a close, this renewal of energy is infectious and I have realised how much I have missed their song. On a walk yesterday, a Song Thrush rang out across the valley while I stood and made a quick sketch, and I confess my heart soared at its purity.

The drained colours of winter are now flushed on the horizon by a furze of pale gold, the hedgerows spangled by pale blackthorn blossom and there is a hint of leaf green as the buds unfurl. Colour is beginning to seep through. On every dry day I have perched myself, with my back to the gorse as a windbreak, sketching to record these changes.

In addition to the energy brought by the coming of spring, I gained new impetus after taking part in an online course run by the London Drawing Group, led by the excellent artist and teacher Jo Blaker, called “Drawing Scribbled Landscapes.” I have taken part in quite a few such courses, but this one shone out and I was left fired with enthusiasm and felt eager to share the techniques that has reinvigorated my practice.

I confess that I am resistent to warm up techniques, and normally plunge straight in, believing, rather stubbornly, that the time I have is best spent without any preliminaries. However, when following an event such as this, I had no choice but to follow! Jo encouraged us to create boxes across the spread of our sketchbook and move from one to another, making rapid marks in different directions with different materials. There was no opportunity for the critic at my shoulder to intrude and I found myself whizzing through the pages and exercises with increasing delight and enthusiasm. We progressed from making free scribbles with both hands together, to making mini landscapes using both straight lines and swirls and playing with compositional structures, each taking no more than 60 seconds.

By the time we reached depicting landscapes, through images provided by Jo, I was flying through and realised that if I did this at the beginning of each drawing session, I would lose those tentative first marks and be far more relaxed in my approach.

We were encouraged to change colour and materials after each sketch. I found myself using colours that had been languishing unused since purchase and being delighted by them. Using a single colour to depict a landscape encourages you to focus on the strength, tone and direction of marks to describe what you are looking at rather than by colour choice.

At the end of two hours I felt exhausted, but exhilarated. I have placed some of my sketchbook spreads below so you can see the fast and furious pace at which we worked. But it was this speed of approach that enabled me to divert my critical brain and, if like me you find this a constant intrusion, then this is the perfect way to help defeat it.

At the opening of the course, Jo mentioned a quote by Van Gogh from a letter to his brother Theo, and this had the intended effect:

“ If one wants to be active one mustn’t be afraid to do something wrong, not afraid to lapse into some mistakes. To be good - many people think that they’ll achieve it by doing no harm - and that’s a lie… That leads to stagnation, to mediocrity”.

I certainly feel the pressure of time when I go out drawing, and this does lead to avoidance of risk as a consequence, and far too often I find I am taking the safer option. So how has this approach changed what I do? I began by making 5 minute tiny sketches, using a limited colour choice and not dwelling on detail, always moving on to the next before thinking too much. I found it liberating and loved making them.

And then I became bolder. Eager to move beyond my sketchbook, I taped large sheets of paper to a drawing board and divided each into squares. To obscure the intimidating white paper, I swept across them with acrylic ink, and took them out on to the Ling with a box of Unison soft pastels. Using these stopped me from becoming too obsessed with detail and encouraged me to move on to the next image.

In the coming weeks, I intend to keep going in this vein, trying out new materials, exploring new approaches, with the intention of dodging that pesky inner critic, and, of course, having lots of fun. So, take out a tiny sketchbook and get scribbling, you might be surprised at the results!

Thank you for your company here, and for taking the time to read my work, it is greatly appreciated. I look forward to seeing you again in a couple of weeks.

Something to read

The Trees (1974) - Philip Larkin (1922 - 1995)

This is a particular favourite of Larkin’s poems, and I think his reading here is especially poignant. The fading sibilance of the final line, with its sense of hope and renewal, is perfect for now. Take a minute to pause, and listen.

The trees are coming into leaf
Like something almost being said;
The recent buds relax and spread,
Their greenness is a kind of grief.

Is it that they are born again
And we grow old? No, they die too.
Their yearly trick of looking new
Is written down in rings of grain.

Yet still the unresting castles thresh
In fullgrown thickness every May.
Last year is dead, they seem to say,
Begin afresh, afresh, afresh.

I also wanted to share a wonderful book about drawing that I should have mentioned in my last post. It is “Ways of Drawing” edited by Julian Bell, Julia Balchin and Claudia Tobin from the Royal Drawing School. Beautifully illustrated with illuminating essays by contemporary artists, it is one of the best books on drawing I know.

Something to listen to

I suddenly realised that I hadn’t shared here my favourite podcast: Frank Skinner’s Poetry Podcast. If you know Frank Skinner only as a comedian, this will come as a surprise. He studied English Literature at Birmingham, followed by a Master’s degree at Warwick, and had he not moved into comedy, he would have been a remarkable teacher, such is his ability to communicate with clarity and huge enthusiasm. His choices are both traditional and diverse and you will leave feeling richer and inspired. He is a wonderful advocate for poetry. ( To begin, choose an episode where you can have the poem in front of you as you listen, such as the classic The Windhover, as I found this really helpful.)