I have been traveling without my pencils and charcoal. However, I have my trusty Micron pens. There is always one somewhere and you can never have too many. Sketching is more challenging in ink, but doable.
When I was getting off the train today, the conductor told me we should use the front door to exit because the other door was broken. He said this in Finnish, looked at me, and repeated the same in English.
This has happened before. People have switched to English even when I have already replied in my native Finnish. I have no clue why.
My favorite philosophers worked on ordinary language philosophy. They range from Wittgenstein to Stephen Toulmin. John Wisdom (1904–1993) is central to all this in ways that would require a long explanation. I’ve written one article about his thinking in Finnish and planning another one in English. I know very little about him as a man. They tell me he liked horses and hunting, and I cannot relate to that at all.
It is rare, I think, to be profoundly moved when you read language philosophy or, it’s older cousin, philology. It has happened to me twice. Once, when I came across Isaac Casaubon (1559–1614) at Westminster Abbey. I shed a quick tear, but tried to act cool since I was with my girlfriend. The other time was on the train from Helsinki to Tampere, severely hungover, reading Wisdom’s book Paradox and Discovery. I had read it before and read it many times more, and even bought a first edition copy.
Casaubon’s monument in Westminster Abbey reads, in part: “Ye men of learning rise with respect to this venerable name whom Gallia produced for the good of the learned world […] He that would know Casaubon, let him not read monuments but books, superior to marble and more useful to posterity.” We are not this pompous anymore, but it’s still good advice. Wipe your tears and let us not read monuments, but books.
I have started to doodle Rembrandt copies on the train. Quick, crude and simple ones, because otherwise his genius will drive you crazy. It is difficult to even understand how much he did for portrait painting. It is probably fair to say that he created the modern language of portraiture. I have never painted master copies in oils, and after scratching these pictures in notebooks, on work papers and napkins, it is clear I still need practice in a more modest medium.
Models from top left to bottom right: St. Vincent, male head, female head, Eraserhead (drawing and grisaille in oils), Billie Holiday and Art Blakey.
Block-in exercises are a good way to practice drawing and painting, maybe even drawing for painting. It involves a lot of looking and studying the lights and darks, but the drawing itself is usually quick.
You wish there are big leaps in your skills when you practice. People tell you slow and steady is the way. The truth is somewhere in between. Something happened to my drawing skills between December 2021 and February 2022, but I’m not sure what. Based on the two images I have, it looks like a leap.
The more I do them, the more I think block-in exercises are the best way to practice drawing if your goal is to get better at painting. If you have a grasp of values, it’s enough to outline light and shadow shapes before you pick up the brush.
I have always wondered about the drawing style shown in the above image. I don’t know what it is called, but I have seen tattoo artists and painters prepping a painting do it. It gives you courage to work with values efficiently.
Teachers say that you should use a mirror to check your drawing and check it regularly when drawing. Sometimes the mirror image turns out better than the actual image.
I tend to draw quick and not finish things. This time, I thought I would do something else and continue a little longer. I typically mess up the likeness when I try to finish things, and that has happened here as well. It is scary to try your best to create a great image, because, past the sketch, you are really trying, and if you fail, it all ends in tears. And your pride and confidence take a hit or two. I will sleep on it, pluck up the courage to move forward tomorrow and continue. Maybe towards failure, maybe not.