Music in the background interspersed with radio programmes. Now the illustration
seems to be taking on its own spontaneous life as each stroke of the pen tries to
determine the next mark. Then another flurry of stumbling and adjustments. The
independent life of the picture has steadily unfolded itself and it prompts me to make
unexpected and spontaneous drawing decisions on the spur of the moment. This is
walking a tightrope and the picture itself seems to be in control rather than me. I am still
holding my breath too much. The murky impression of what was initially hoped for is no
longer a consideration now. New forces are at work. The control is lost. A different
picture to what I expected is emerging. Some of the previously laid conceptual plans are
now abandoned as new forces are at work during the experience of making the drawing
itself. It is then a struggle, as unexpected adjustments have to be made in the light of
seeing the drawing emerge as an entity before your eyes. The resultant illustration is a
reconciliation between control on the one hand and lack of control on the other. I daren’t
question the way the drawing is going in case I stop it in its tracks. A degree of
detachment is necessary in order to let the drawing survive. I hope for the luck of happy
accidents. Drawing ‘well’ seems to come from the heavens as much as from experience
and hard work. I am tense one moment and relaxed the next. The heart is beating. Sirens
are singing in my ears and my head feels like crunched cotton wool. I look at the
illustration and I look at it again. I look outside the window and look at the illustration
once more. I look at it close to, and I look at it from a distance. I need to get away from it.
Have a break. Lunch with Raymond and Denie in a local pub. They don’t seem to be real.
The illustration is more real and is still sizzling inside my head. I cannot concentrate on
what they are talking about.
Back home and back to the drawing. Absence from the picture has made the heart grow
fonder. Now to tackle the intricacy of the barbed wire and the white willow branches.
Loved doing the scratching on the white part of the building on the right. Decided not to
square off the top part of the drawing. And then on to the monotony of the grass. Sheep
and crow now done. Securing the creatures’ mutual staring of one another and getting
that half-smile on the sheep’s face was difficult. Strange how drawing becomes a
completely abstract involvement – making abstract patterns to conjure up a reality. The
awareness of drawing an actual crow, a sheep, a tree or a building recedes during one’s
involvement in the drawing. All pictures are abstract.
Oh dear, the sheep’s hooves are not really sinking into the grass nor are they partly
obscured by it which they should be. Must change this later. I wish I’d got the crow’s
claws sinking into the fleece more. As a final gesture I perpetrate some
wiggly lines upon the fleece of the sheep as a joke against those who
charge my drawing as being too tight.
How I hate to hear to those arty teachers urging students in the life-
A Journey of Drawing an Illustration of a Fable
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