>My project over the last two days has been to add color to pencil drawings that I started a while back and that have been sitting unfinished in my sketchbook. I’ve been using watercolor pencil, watercolor paints and various types of paper and have been with experimenting with the properties of each.
I also collected the pictures that I had done in the past from their various hiding places, in drawers and boxes and among various sketchbooks. I realized,then, that there was no way to track (and analyze, of course) any improvement or change in how and what I was drawing, so I scanned everything that I’ve drawn to date and uploaded the pictures to a file on my computer.
Despite my analytic temperament, there is something that makes me feel somewhat bohemian and adventurous when adding color to drawings. I always feel apprehensive when I begin a picture, even if it is in pencil; and then, even more apprehensive as I add ink and color (Oh my god, what if I ruin what I’ve already done)–but then, I just get into the color.
That is what happened with Bathing. I drew the pencil outline of it several months ago after watching a friend dry herself with a towel. Never having attempted to draw an entire body before, I was nervous–but as the body flowed from my pencil, I remember thinking of how wonderful it would be to take a dip in a pond under the light of a full moon, wonder if the shimmer on the surface of the pond was from the water or from the moon above, and ponder on the mystical qualities of the solitude and the light of night. I pictured a body glowing with the white of the moonlight. Later, as I added color, with water color pencils, then a clear wash to blend the pencil colors, and finally with watercolor paint, I felt my strokes getting larger and larger as I fell deeper and deeper into the picture and could feel the water dripping from my hair, the softness of the towel on my body, and the silence of the moonlit evening . . . .
Imported from geocities.com/c.redstone August 7, 2007–first attempt at blogging
