Excerpts from sketchbooks and my dictionary of art terms

I’m particular about words and their meanings. Not to suggest that I don’t use them inappropriately at times myself; I do. But I’ll go as far as to say that it’s a hang up of mine, maybe even a mild obsession. Here, the case in point has to do with my personal definition of “sketch” versus “drawing”. 

In my private dictionary of artist’s terms, a sketch is a vehicle whose primary purpose is to help shape a more finished work. It’s a mock up, to provide direction for a “serious” piece of art, one worthy of the effort and cost of framing. Something that belongs in a gallery. As a designer, I do plenty of what I’d call sketches as a means of working towards a well resolved product. But as an artist, I’ve come to think of much of my work that most people call sketches as something else. I see them as drawings. The distinction seems like hair-splitting, but here’s why I make it.

sunset from my aunt yoko's living room, yokohama, japan, december 7, 1991

 I am an intensely emotional man. When I draw, the experience between me and my subject is intimately physical, perhaps spiritual. I’ve tended to prefer pencil or pastels on paper, because the actual contact between me and the medium is so direct. I often use my bare fingers and even the heel of my hand, smearing the media across the surface. I work quickly most of the time because I don’t want to give myself time to intellectualize the experience. I go for raw energy, with recognizable forms accurately and skillfully drawn, but with a savagery that the outlines can barely contain. It’s taken years of practice to be able to render what I see, and to do it more or less faithfully to the forms, light and shadow, perspective and foreshortening, color and value of what I’m looking at or thinking about. It takes something altogether different to let all the emotional intensity out, and to convey that energy without premeditation, and without obliterating the subject beyond recognition. I find that I can only sustain that level of performance in relatively short intervals. If you think of a gymnast, a dancer, a figure skater, or a sprinter, you can find sort of an analogy. 

christmas tree in the living room, december 8, 2007

When I take out paper and pencils, pen and ink, or pastels, it is usually an all out effort for a relatively short period. I give it everything I have to give. I’m focused and intent. For reasons that go beyond the scope of this essay, the time available to me is limited, but that plays out well given my temperament and what I’m trying to achieve. Because they result in what is, for me, a piece of art that stands on its own merits, I call them drawings, and thus distinguish them from sketches. They capture that moment of unpredictable and spontaneous inspiration and interaction, full of immediacy and feeling, between me and the subject before me.

rad davis smooth zulu, december 9, 2011

Comments

[Scott]

Anyone notice that these were done over a 20 year span of time on the 7th, 8th, and 9th of December?