minimalist making a fetish of twelve dots on rice paper, the car designer, the life-drawing
tutor, the Chinese calligrapher, the engineering draughtsman using CAD, all be able to
understand the finer points of each other’s ‘drawing language’? Could they all have
started from the same set of principles? Is it essential to follow and copy the same
models, the same masters? Could you educate yourself entirely from a book, some
updated and more inclusive ‘Elements of Drawing’? How many chapters should there be
on PhotoShop, or should the drawing tips be in the PhotoShop manual? What is a
drawing expert?
Questions, questions, and we can parry them with the conventional wisdom that drawing
is really learning to see. But what kind of answer is that? It is like saying drawing is ‘mark-
making’. Do we set up a still life, draw from memory, or spatter ink on the floor? If
someone tells us drawing is essentially about eye and hand co-ordination then a clever
student could propose a game of tennis, which is at least an art form with clear levels of
accomplishment, agreed rules and boundaries, and you end up knowing who’s best. Isn’t
the idea of a drawing competition a bit odd? Could it be set up as a knockout tournament?
So it is understandable that we duck the issues and fall back on the Life Room as the
easiest expedient, the place where drawing is most Drawing; where there is a model,
something to measure, and an aura of concentration and obedience to unspoken laws.
Ruskin, Crane, and other manuals don’t actually have much to say about life-drawing.
Their cultural references, from botany to archaeology, to poetry are broader. True,
drawing manuals would be directed toward the general reader more than the art student,
and nudity would have caused problems (Eakins was dismissed for having nude models in
front of female students). But the idea that pictures of bored nude figures, sitting doing
nothing, are the central defining achievement of western art – its Everest so to speak, an
end in itself – would probably have struck them as perverse rather than traditional. Would
they have recognized Frank Auerbach or Lucian Freud as great draughtsmen? My guess is
they would have been perplexed by commentators who speak reverently of the human
condition, the connection with the Old Masters. They would have registered the stylistic
aberration, the mannerisms, the nakedness, and for them their sheer ugliness.
Why, in Auerbach, when the foreground or the figure is rigid and cuboid is the
background, the sky, a flat backcloth? Why all the rubbing out? To speak of ‘figurative’ art
and ‘traditional’ art in the same breath, as if it thereby some of the aura and authority of
great art channels along an unbroken pedigree, is quite a twisted view. If you spend an
afternoon at the National Gallery the connection between this late
twentieth century idea and the Titians, the Gainsboroughs,
Rembrandts, Pieros, Botticellis, is far from obvious (for Ruskin, of
these Titian is the only one to be trusted, and Gainsborough is all
“gentlemanly flimsiness”
7
). There are figures yes, but they are mostly
there for a purpose, doing something somewhere, dramatised, naked
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Old Manuals and New Pencils
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