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The Technique of Pencil Drawing
By Borough Johnson Dover Publications, Inc.
Copyright © 2008 Dover Publications, Inc.
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-486-13980-7
CHAPTER 1
The Correct Method of Holding the Pencil, the way to Cut it, and the Suitability of Papers
FOR the method I employ it is important to select the right degree and make of lead pencil, for there are so many shades, from very hard to soft lead. I myself generally use a first-grade quality BB, with which degree practically all the drawings in lead reproduced in this book have been executed. The first two illustrations demonstrate the wide range of shades, from the palest grey to deep black, according to the pressure used. The chromatic scale of shading as shown was done with only one cutting of a BB pencil, held in the right manner, on suitable paper. I use the word "chromatic," believing that black and white can, in a sense, suggest colour.
The pencil should be held, as shown in Plate III, Fig. 3, between the thumb and the first two fingers; or, if the pencil is long enough, between the thumb and index finger, but running through the third and little finger, as illustrated in Plate III, Fig. 4. In this way one has great control over the pencil, can keep the edge of the lead point parallel to the paper, and be able to apply pressure of the thumb where necessary in darker tones or decisive touches, all the control coming from the finger tips, in harmony with a flexible wrist. If this method is employed, it is possible, with considerable practice, to render every degree of gradation from the faintest to the deepest shades, with any shape, size or touch, much as a brush can do. The range of effects is infinite; in fact, this method of pencil drawing or painting is akin to brushwork, as we may see in Frans Hals' portraits, and requires keenness of vision with certainty of touch and tone. The beginner should frequently practise the necessary pressure or touch required to mark the scale of tones and shapes he may need in this most difficult of all ways of modelling with the pencil.
Now the cutting of the pencil is important, very important indeed, in order to obtain the number of touches and tones necessary in such a drawing as that of the man's head shown in Plate XV. One must make the lead point last as long as possible to avoid hindrance in re-cutting, and to do this the lead must be supported by the wood on the side not employed, but cut away to expose the facets of the lead used, as in diagrams A, B, C, in Plate II, so as to obtain narrow or broad touches.
One must have a sharp penknife, and hold the pencil firmly in the left hand towards the top whilst cutting.
There are many kinds of papers, and it is interesting to experiment with different surfaces and qualities, but for general use I find a smooth machine-made demy paper the best, such as chemists use for wrapping up bottles, etc. The only disadvantages this paper has are thinness and liability to change of colour under light. Otherwise it is perfect, and gives beautiful qualities in the blacks. Use the smooth side without the grain. Then I have used stouter paper, such as cartridge, and any hot-pressed paper. Bristol board is also suitable.
If the paper is thin, it is advisable to work over several sheets placed under the drawing in order to give elasticity to the touch, which materially aids one in securing delicacy and subtlety of modelling and good quality in the blacks.
As to rubber, the less used the better. From the commencement endeavour to avoid rubbing out. Employ it for drawing; for this it is often invaluable. The rubber of a putty consistency is the best; it easily lifts the lead, and is easily moulded with the fingers to a point which can be used for cutting out shapes and high lights.
CHAPTER 2
The Commencement of a Drawing and the Value of a Rapid and Essential Outline
WHEN I speak of outline I mean all that depicts form without tone, that is to say, even a few dots and short strokes suggesting features with their main expressions as we see so wonderfully done in the sketches of Rembrandt, and of Forain, who with a few deft touches tells his story so vividly. So outline comprises the smaller inner forms and features as well as the larger contours. To show my meaning more clearly I have drawn the principal lines of a nun's face, showing the expression characteristic of grief, the first three outlines retaining the emotion, the fourth reduced to the merest essentials.
If we study the muscles of the face with their mechanism relative to the conditions controlling the emotions, we find they all conform to precise rules and reasonings and show that each passion has a distinct line of direction. For instance, the opposite of sorrow is laughter, in which the lines of the mouth and nostrils rise upwards with the eyes horizontal, so it is quite possible to represent each mood with a few simple strokes, provided we give them the right characteristic direction (Plate IV). To do this we must understand the anatomy of expression, which all portraitists who make a study of physiognomy do. Expression does not lie solely in the features but in the attitude of the body and its separate parts, particularly in the hands, which are more often than not neglected.
Anyone with ordinary intelligence and application can learn to sketch more or less " correctly," provided he has a capable master continually at his elbow to point out his mistakes; for to see proportions, facts and forms scientifically needs much practice and experience. To observe with an artist's eye is another matter altogether, and is a gift which only the aesthetic soul can possess.
My aim in this book is to combine the two essentials; and I hope to show in this chapter the importance to the inexperienced of the first few lines in starting a drawing. Be the subject an object, landscape, architecture, face or figure, our first general impression is its shape, masses, and principal lines of design, and not its detail, but its form, to be rendered by an outline, which of course has no existence in fact, but is the easiest means of expressing our ideas. To put down that nonexistent line in as simple a manner as possible is our first consideration, be the draughtsman a beginner or an artist of experience.
The child with his hazy notion of form, and the savage with his wider knowledge of life and Nature, record their impressions with a sharp point in outline, thus expressing in the simplest manner the things they have seen or their fancy imagined. Drawing is practically all memory, from the momentary to the longer retained image.
The cultivation of the memory is much neglected in art teaching, where only too often art education is repressive of personal initiative and individuality, art deadening instead of being vital and inspiring. What we need is more the teaching of Lecoq de Boisbaudran, where memory played such a great part, and whose school in Paris in the middle of the last century was productive of such excellent results. We have only to study the prints and drawings by Japanese artists of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries to see what cultivation of the memory can effect. Look at the drawings of the late Joseph Crawhall, who was a genius in this respect, and François Millet, who seldom worked directly from Nature, except in his student days, for the reason, as he said, that "Nature does not pose."
The art of drawing from life and Nature is not a convention of imitating all one sees, but should be a simple and searching statement of essential facts and solid forms, for the whole is greater than its parts.
The contour of a nude figure, the outline of any object, if drawn with artistic understanding, can convey an impression of three dimensions, or solidity, as well as a shaded drawing. By this I mean not a continuous, unvarying line, with no suggestion of light and shade, and lost and sharp edges, but one stating the sense of vision with that of touch. This may sound impossible to the beginner, but as he progresses the truth of this statement will, I hope, be proved.
If we draw an egg against a white ground, in pure outline, as shown in the first diagram in Plate III, with an unbroken line of even strength and thickness, it conveys to the mind nothing more than an oval. But if we draw it like the second diagram it suggests by its varying strength of line, though still kept continuous, light and shade, and therefore something tangible; and in the third, this is emphasized owing to its contour coming sharp against the shadow, and lost or faint against the lights or equal tones to its background.
This fact, as demonstrated by this simple example, seems to me to be the whole essence of suggesting modelling or solidity by outline, and should be applied to everything one draws from life or Nature.
Again, if we take a rectangular object, such as a book, and try to represent its three dimensions by a line all round its outer edges, it suggests nothing in particular, and is obviously the most difficult way of proceeding; but, if we see it as I have sketched it, commencing with the longest top line and adding the three additional lines, it is an easier matter, and represents the object. So we could go on ad infinitum, but these two examples are, I think, all that are necessary to explain my meaning to the beginner.
When we sketch in a landscape, assuming that we are acquainted with the rules of elementary perspective, our first few lines, seen in our minds, should give the prevailing decorative curves and darkest accents running through the subject.
The two drawings on Plates VI and VII will, I think, explain my meaning clearly.
A slight sketch, as the "Italian Landscape" (Plate V), gives the idea, by its varying strength of touch, of aerial perspective, and light and shade. This a hard, even line could not do. At its best it would be but mechanical, although it may be correctly and beautifully drawn.
Before sketching in the outline of a figure, nude or clothed, more especially if he wishes to represent movement, the beginner places on his paper a few leading lines to give the principal curves or swing of the figure, as I show in Plate VIII. These are the principal lines upon which we build—the scaffolding, so to speak. The able figure draughtsman does not necessarily place these preliminary lines upon his paper, but he always sees them in his mind.
The same applies if we draw a head, as in the drawings that conclude this chapter. It will be seen that its shape is reduced to curves, which illustrate the principal leading lines encircling the head and give its shape and tilt. The rectangular lines are indicated to show the placing of the ear, sometimes nearly at a right angle to the facial. It would be necessary tc extend this principle of angles were I writing a treatise on the teaching of drawing more than on the technique of the pencil.
Before starting a drawing, whatever it may be, we must look at our subject with a view to selection; and, if it is a view or a crowd of figures, we should see that the eye can comfortably take them in, without movement of the head to the left or right, for we do not wish to worry our eyes with a panorama or cinema film. In placing the subject, be it large or small, we must see that the design is pleasing and suitable in its proportions for the space it is to fill; for design or pattern is essential to the making of a pleasing picture, and can only be felt, not taught.
The study of the outline, edges or extremities of the nude figure, or of any other object, is not concerned with definite lines, but with mechanical, for the termination of a colour—and everything we see is colour—is connected with or gradated into that of another; therefore, as a definite line cannot be perceived, it should not be pronounced so distinctly in those objects which are distant as in those which are in the foreplane of the picture.
If we study a nude figure, the nature and quality of the background determines the sharpness or softness of the edges of the convex forms and the variation of values between the boundaries of the figure, resulting in sharp or soft edges, the mixture of the two adding to the effect of relievo. The management of edges denotes the artist's sensitiveness to form, perhaps more than any other faculty of draughtsmanship.
As I am writing primarily upon the way to use a pencil, I will touch only upon the larger subject of composition. We all know there are certain conventional rules of composition as invented by the early masters and imitated and followed slavishly ever since in many academies. The greatest pictures have been invented and naturally composed by those artists who got away from predecessors' rules and hackneyed traditions and followed their own imagination and ideas founded upon truth and suitability. As a modern example, I may mention Brangwyn, from whose designs the student can learn much. Here we see light and shade most effectively disposed, the balance of his masses well considered, and his shadows most happily placed. Those who saw his memorable exhibition at Queen's Gate, in 1925, cannot forget the deep impression left of this great British master's work.
The cinema can teach the black and white artist a great deal. Many of the films we see are strikingly fine as natural compositions of instantaneous movement and outdoor effects of light and shadow. We should never forget that the mental note, with a sketchbook always handy to fix swiftly the fleeting effects of Nature and movement, is the best educator of all. Thus will the hand be made expert by practice.
CHAPTER 3
Individuality or Mode of Expression
THE personal character of a man is not necessarily reflected in his work; but in the abstract, as applied to art, individuality, generally termed "style," is a quality of the artist's mind characterized by distinctive features of feeling or emotion and transmitted from his brain to his hand. This sense is not acquired by imitating others who possess it in a larger degree: it must come to us naturally from knowledge gained from experience and a love of Nature. Our work, be it drawing, painting, music, or any fine or applied art, should reflect our temperaments or sensitiveness in a lesser or greater measure, according to the individual and the emotions he receives.
Personality, or the artist's way of drawing what he sees, either in his mind or by his eye, based upon study and structural fitness, is a sense of the highest order. I mean by this the manner in which we put down a line or handle or invent a picture, for as we write so should we draw, in an easy and natural way. If impelled by the longing to represent what his mind conceives, or his eyes see, the accomplished draughtsman cannot fail to impart this power of originality or style to his work. Drawings which lack personality may be correct in every detail, but they are dull and lifeless as a whole, and, being mechanical productions at the best, are worthless as works of art.
The most vivid impressions of an artist's temperament, if he feels deeply, are shown by his drawings and preliminary studies; they present to the art student and connoisseur the most interesting part of his work. We often wonder why modern etchings fetch such high prices at sales, whilst original drawings, of which there can be no repetition, often by the same artists, can seldom find purchasers. A fine original drawing, artistically and speculatively, is quite as personal as an etching, and should be valued at a higher rate than any print which can be published by the dozen. This inadequate state of things has a most damaging effect upon original work in black and white, and is one cause of its neglect.
Ingres, whose drawings should be studied closely by all art students, was a stylist in his precise, rather matter-of-fact, way. Little accident can be seen in his drawings, still less in his paintings. Great as he was technically, there is not much human interest; he makes few mistakes, but often shows consummate good drawing, with perfect eyesight. His opposite, an equally great draughtsman in another way, is the modern master Degas, an impressionist of movement and master of " style," and an artist whom only an artist can perhaps fully appreciate. Art is chance, chance is art, sometimes, when an artist is responsible for the result; and this is generally found wanting in the drawings by Ingres. We cannot always take the whole output of a master's work as examples to follow. It is hard to reconcile weak and faulty drawing with such a finished craftsman as Ingres, but it may be encouraging to find that even he could at times draw flabby and boneless studies such as we can see in two or three examples in the British Museum. The same lack of inspiration applies to much of Leighton's beautifully drawn work; too much classicism with too little vitality is sometimes a bad mixture. We see the opposite of this in Watts's noble and poetic work, with its big, sweeping outline. Menzel—an artist we can compare with no modern illustrator, unless it be Meissonier, with whom he had as keen an eye for rightness, but a deeper analytical insight into human nature than the Frenchman—has left to his nation a marvellous collection of drawings for his History of Frederick the Great, which is a revelation to the student. Menzel had a passionate love for truth. Nature was his only master, sincerity his greatest quality—for which one reads he was not easily forgiven.
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Excerpted from The Technique of Pencil Drawing by Borough Johnson. Copyright © 2008 Dover Publications, Inc.. Excerpted by permission of Dover Publications, Inc..
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