Martha Davis
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Viewing 18 posts - 1 through 18 (of 18 total)
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This is from my very first entry--a drawing of my ultimate "journaling hero," Charles Darwin. I'm more of a writer than an artist but am fascinated by the interconnections among the artist (whether visual or verbal) and scientist and in the salience of all their observations and reflections (Darwin's fighting words). So! You can imagine how delighted I was by Liz's selection of texts, from some of my all-time favorite observers and reflectors. I was unfamiliar with Kimmeler and Heinrich, so am glad to be introduced to them. Thank you! -
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I'm enjoying this but am a total novice--have not used water colors at all (as an adult). Even the bare mechanics are a bit of a challenge: for instance, the thread on my brush seems off and I can't screw it on tightly. Nonetheless. color is amazing and I'm enjoying stepping into it.
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My gesture drawings included some ducks on a near-frozen koi pond behind my apartment in Boulder, CO. This guy (dubbed "Henry" by my neighbors) has a broken wing and has been deserted by his duck buddies. Nearby artificial light is doubly-reflected a bit on the surrounding snow and water. Because I caught Henry in a silhouette, I tried to catch the armpits of shadow in the snowbanks surrounding the koi pond--and reflection in the water.
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My right-side-up (drawn up-side-down) song sparrow. No doubt about it--this exercise forces us to really look at what's right in front of us, not necessarily what we think we're meant to draw. Very helpful.
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I've been working on proportion with landscapes, too, but I've continued to work with leaves a little. This upside down maple leaf was on the library walkway across the street from me. The iconic maple leaf shape is not so obvious because the points of the leaf are largely curled under.
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I'm slowly learning to like gesture drawing, even though I've long recognized its value. I'm not sure if I'm really learning to settle with imperfection yet, no matter how much I theoretically believe in process process process, practice, practice, practice, revise, revise, revise. But what I really am beginning to enjoy is drawing lightly--to capture the arc of a movement, a turn of a head, a lifting of a nose or beak. That suggestion--just going for that--I'm beginning to find it not only edifying but entertaining. :)
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I recognize the value of such exercises, even though it's humiliating to be so off mark! I'm amazed how close many of the rest of you were in your drawings.
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Here I'm comparing the bark of three trees--an oak (about 15" in diameter), a young maple (about 9" in diameter), and a Ponderosa pine (also about 9-10" in diameter but older than the maple and much, much more deeply fissured). Surprising to me was that the vertical-ish lines of the oak and pine had much more horizonal-ish hatching up close and the almost horizontal rings of the maple had much more vertical and web-like lines (very light, almost white) upon closer look. The oak bark reminded me of an Escher drawing--as if each "leg" of various "chromosome-shaped X's" blended into the next "X." This beautiful bark was much more challenging than I expected to draw! A process aside: I'm going to have to shift from pencil--all my pages are getting uniformly smudy!
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You've inspiring! You model close observation of a variety of issues on your seed pods--and pose questions.
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I love the discovery process this cultivates and am reminded of Darwin's Red Notebooks--his drawings, questions, connections, comparisons, hypotheses and so on. My drawing fails to capture the web of tiny branches casting a halo--utterly luminous, reflecting the intense sun on a Colorado day--around the much thicker more muscular main branches of the massive cottonwood I stood under, looking straight up. I'm relatively new to Colorado and find myself asking all kinds of questions (not yet written in notebook) about these (weak?) fast growing trees with such an awesome presence.
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I appreciate the details, both visual and verbal.
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maybe trite subject matter, but plentiful
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At last! This is the image of Leonardo (a nature journalist!) I unsuccessfully tried to upload with my little leaf and pumpkin drawings earlier. (Here we were practicing chiaroscuro and different ways of shading, including hatching). Marty Patton (who is running waaaaay behind)
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I thoroughly enjoyed sketching some leaves, a pumpkin, and an etching I found of Leonardo (who was, among other things, a master nature journaler--right? His notebooks intrigue me more than his finished paintings). I took a photo of my sketch, saved it as a jpg, and then inserted it (multiple times) in the "insert image" spot--where it does show up, but it takes up the whole screen and obliterates the "submit" button. If I try to return to the original page, I lose it all. Advice is welcome! (I did contact the Cornell help page and did what I thought I was told--saved it as a jpg and inserted it.) --Marty Patton
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(I'm proving to be the class delinquent here with two apologies: First, I was out of town most of October and got a late start, and then I had problems when trying to upload my drawing of the warbler. I still have not been successful. I first inserted a pdf of the image; later, after getting some Bird Academy feedback, I saved it as a jpg and inserted that. In both cases, the image would show but took up the whole screen so that I couldn't access the submit button. I experimented with hitting enter, escape, back arrow, and more to no avail. Each time I hit the back arrow, for example, I returned to this assignment page but with a blank reply box. So! Even though I have not yet submitted evidence, my journal is filling and I'm enjoying drawing. For me, drawing, like writing, is a way to zoom in and engage with a subject, almost to become one with it--to experience it, if not to know it. There is much that I would not have noticed--say about the feathers or the clutch of the feet or the veins on the leaves had I not been asked to draw or write about the warbler.)
This is from my very first entry--a drawing of my ultimate "journaling hero," Charles Darwin. I'm more of a writer than an artist but am fascinated by the interconnections among the artist (whether visual or verbal) and scientist and in the salience of all their observations and reflections (Darwin's fighting words). So! You can imagine how delighted I was by Liz's selection of texts, from some of my all-time favorite observers and reflectors. I was unfamiliar with Kimmeler and Heinrich, so am glad to be introduced to them. Thank you! 
My right-side-up (drawn up-side-down) song sparrow. No doubt about it--this exercise forces us to really look at what's right in front of us, not necessarily what we think we're meant to draw. Very helpful. 
I've been working on proportion with landscapes, too, but I've continued to work with leaves a little. This upside down maple leaf was on the library walkway across the street from me. The iconic maple leaf shape is not so obvious because the points of the leaf are largely curled under. 
I recognize the value of such exercises, even though it's humiliating to be so off mark! I'm amazed how close many of the rest of you were in your drawings. 
Here I'm comparing the bark of three trees--an oak (about 15" in diameter), a young maple (about 9" in diameter), and a Ponderosa pine (also about 9-10" in diameter but older than the maple and much, much more deeply fissured). Surprising to me was that the vertical-ish lines of the oak and pine had much more horizonal-ish hatching up close and the almost horizontal rings of the maple had much more vertical and web-like lines (very light, almost white) upon closer look. The oak bark reminded me of an Escher drawing--as if each "leg" of various "chromosome-shaped X's" blended into the next "X." This beautiful bark was much more challenging than I expected to draw! A process aside: I'm going to have to shift from pencil--all my pages are getting uniformly smudy! 
I love the discovery process this cultivates and am reminded of Darwin's Red Notebooks--his drawings, questions, connections, comparisons, hypotheses and so on. My drawing fails to capture the web of tiny branches casting a halo--utterly luminous, reflecting the intense sun on a Colorado day--around the much thicker more muscular main branches of the massive cottonwood I stood under, looking straight up. I'm relatively new to Colorado and find myself asking all kinds of questions (not yet written in notebook) about these (weak?) fast growing trees with such an awesome presence. 
maybe trite subject matter, but plentiful 
At last! This is the image of Leonardo (a nature journalist!) I unsuccessfully tried to upload with my little leaf and pumpkin drawings earlier. (Here we were practicing chiaroscuro and different ways of shading, including hatching). Marty Patton (who is running waaaaay behind) Viewing 18 posts - 1 through 18 (of 18 total)