From Observation to Graphite: Creating A2-Size Botanical Art
No matter how much the city is blooming, I am struggling to find a place where I can pause for a few moments, take my sketchbook from my bag, and start sketching a few lines adjusting, erasing until I see the scribbles transforming into flowers. Besides, most of the trees I find are tall, which makes it difficult to observe the details, even with several caraibeiras blooming across the city.
When I stop to observe, I like to look at every detail up close. It is also important to me that the flower is neither bruised nor wilting, a reality I have been facing in recent days. Since the trees are tall, I can examine the flowers that have fallen to the ground, but because this species is quite delicate, it is very rare to find one in good condition.
This past week, while I was out running, I found a tree that wasn't tall and was blooming beautifully. So, I managed to view all the details up close and was also able to take some photographs.
The interesting thing is that, before this encounter, I was working on the composition of my first A2-size graphite art. However, some of the references had not been developed by me. I searched for photographs on the internet and also tried to follow some shapes I managed to capture from a distance, but when zooming in, the quality wasn't very good since I was so far away.
Despite the difficulties, I pressed on with developing the composition for two days. When I was almost finished, I found that tree, and it showed me what was missing... So, I removed the paper from my slanted drafting board and put down a blank sheet... From that moment on, my stroke began to follow just one reference, and I could still remember how the flower behaved when the sun illuminated its smooth, structured surface.
Today, the initial structure of my drawing is already finished. Everything flowed very naturally, just like in my recent productions: encounter, observation, recording, and only then, the first strokes. I notice that this path brings a certain sense of security not that I am trying to draw in a hyper-realistic style, but if I want to represent a petal differently, I need to know why I am doing it and exactly where I am altering it... And to make that alteration, I feel I need to know the species rather than just drawing blindly.
Many might think that art needs to be free, but for me, in my art, to have that freedom, I need to know. Only then can I represent it through my own gaze.
And the more I observe and draw, the more I realize how stepping out of the studio makes all the difference. What could be seen as a "lack of creativity" for instance, not being able to reach the point of saying, "This is the structure I want for my first A2-size artwork" turned out to be understood differently, perhaps just life telling me: "Eveli, you need to go out. And for sure, this spring will gift you with an inspiring and viable bloom for observation." Therefore, everything depends on how you choose to deal with situations and on being open to seeing, feeling, observing, and experiencing.
Note: I am talking about art, but perhaps this can also be applied to other areas of our lives, and thus, once again I see how much I can learn from pausing and reflecting.
About the material I am using: I didn't buy A2 paper for the draft, so I taped two A3 sheets together and proceeded with developing the composition. This Canson millimeter paper allows me to erase multiple times without smudging. I am using it even when I don't use the Grid Method. Besides making it easier to erase, I can clearly see the lines on the light box. In the post about the artwork, I will detail the materials used as well as the process.
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