Old habits die hard.

When I made the decision to share some of my output with the world and start this blog I had very little idea how difficult it would sometimes be to distill thoughts and processes into meaningful words. I suppose rather naively I didn’t realise that I would need to learn to cast a more critical eye over my work. What I mean is that normally when one is making an image you make judgements about what you’re doing all the time but, you don’t have to express them, the conversation happens in your head. Alterations and changes that you want to make are decided silently before proceeding.

Now, up until now I’d been drawing away to my hearts content and was pretty happy with how things seemed to be going. I’d realised that bikes were quite difficult things to draw, they are actually quite complicated things really, but had satisfied myself that I could stick with plain elevational views for the time being, while I learned more about them from a form perspective. Getting a drawing to look right in terms of shape and proportion was quite a challenge to start with. It was surprising that so many of the elements had to come and work together just so the thing looked like, well, a motorbike. There was a lot more involved than I first reckoned. So achieving a drawing which hung together and looked ok  just in line form turned out to be quite hard work to start with.

Fine, and then for some mad reason that even I can’t fathom I started colouring them in.

Great, but what was I thinking? I’m sure I had told myself to stay away from all the myriad colour pencils and pens that litter my workroom. I’m pretty sure I’d had a word with myself about reaching into the drawer for a circle guide or French Curve as well. But no, I couldn’t resist it.

I mentioned in the previous post that something reared it’s head and this was it. Big deal you might think but, it actually created more problems for me than I wanted, and influenced a number of things. For I start I began to think constantly about how I would render the drawing and this influenced the way I drew things at the outset. It also meant that I was covering the drawing in a kind of cloak of realism which I had initially intended to leave out until I’d built up a bit more confidence and competence. I was sat there thinking, “what colour should this bit be?” and “how many spokes should this wheel have?” If I wasn’t careful I’d be diving headlong into the realms of reflections and then there would be no end to it.

 

 

I’d done a few line drawings and suddenly found myself staring at a pile of colouring in. I got myself truly stuck in. I’d started with colour pencils as they are my kind of default medium, I’ve always been very comfortable with them, and started piling on the pigment. Here’s another one that got the treatment.

In isolation these aren’t bad drawings, even though I say that myself, but they were lacking something which had been very evident in the first drag bike cartoon. They were a bit dry and lacked a certain something, a dynamism? And there weren’t any people in them.

I was reminded of an old tutor I had when studying at the Central School of Art in London back in the early eighties. In his spare time he would sit at home and paint pictures of vintage cars in gouache and ink. They were impressive technically but, as dry as a bone visually. I looked at my drawings and got a feeling that I was headed, albeit slowly, down some road toward a similar end, spending days painstakingly recreating every last detail in perfect likeness. That was not what I wanted and so had to rein myself in somehow. I knew that there would be a time for lots of colour but it wasn’t now and it wasn’t like this either.

The learnings from this experience were interesting though. Quite unwittingly I’d found myself charging off down a path I had not readied myself to pursue. This is what I think happened. They say that old habits die hard and perhaps this is the case here. Over years of making images to illustrate design ideas one gets into a groove. Not only does each designer develop their own unique style, but I think they also embed within themselves certain ways of doing things. These are like creative habits. If I look back at some of my work from studio days I can clearly see that I went about things in a very particular way. In a sense that’s what I found myself doing now, doing it in a certain way. I was going from sketch to line drawing and then to colour etc etc. For things to be finished they had to be in colour, properly shaded and kind of looking “real”. Despite the fact that the images were not of real things I’d started to try and make them look as real as possible and had found myself “designing” them, which in it’s own way effected the lines I drew. I was sat there worrying about whether they looked real enough, when the whole idea in the first place had been for them not to be real at all. Most importantly the process had started to be less fun. I hadn’t got the mix of ingredients right. Time for a rethink.

 

 

Trying to find structure

Hmm, a bit of a gap between this post and the last. Well, it was the Christmas season and I had other things on my mind and I’m sure that everyone else did too.

Now where was I?

Inspired by the drawing that I included in the previous post I took to sketching out some more to see where things would go. I had a head full of thoughts and ideas but it was all very unstructured and lacked a certain amount of direction. At least I was making images though, which pleased me. here’s a group of three sketches that quickly followed.

These I just quickly photographed from the sketch book, hence the slightly shaded appearance towards the base of the picture.

Seeing these it quickly struck me that I needed to get the pictures out of the sketchbook and onto individual sheets, to give each image a kind of home and to help me to start to organise what I was trying to do. The pages of my sketchbook were starting to resemble a rubbish tip. I had just hit the page with any and every idea I had and as a consequence I’d ended up with a giant tangle of bits and pieces from which I was finding it hard to pull bits that I wanted to work on further. So getting to separate sheets of paper seemed to make sense.

I wasn’t anticipating what happened next. I pulled out some ideas and started to draw them up, and found myself going into a huge amount of detail. It was as if I’d subconsciously decided that I was going to design bikes for real and spent absolutely ages agonising over what I was creating. The drawings weren’t bad, no, but I worried that I would lose something or that they would become a little sterile. You can see from this next image that it’s a long way from what was happening previously.

I actually really like this image and there are couple more like it which I’ll show next time because they really do illustrate the odd drift back towards realism. They also highlight another distraction which reared its head, and I’ll get my thoughts about that together for the next post too.

For info this drawing is again done in black Biro over a light pencil layout on A3 cartridge paper.

Hello old friend.

Talents and skills are funny things. They can be beautiful, enlightening, pleasurable, unique and frustrating. Sometimes all in equal measure. In some ways you could say that they are like old friends and acquaintances. Some accompany you for most of your life and others come and go, satisfying a particular need at a certain time before disappearing off again. If we allow them to hang around long enough they get to grow with us, our relationship with them becoming ever deeper and more involved. They show us things that are new and fresh and that we didn’t see before, and often the tell us things about ourselves when we take a little time to listen and reflect.

Some can be quite short term, joining us for specific periods before evaporating into the ether, or fading into the background of our lives. Good, true friends, the one’s you know you can rely on truly, are like talents. They never really leave you. Often skills can be like those people you’re really friendly with at a certain job but the relationships don’t travel with you when you move on. I’ve had to learn certain skills at times in order to complete certain projects but, have never needed to call on those skills since that one occasion. They are the transient drinking buddies that come and go. Others I’ve needed time and time again and they are now like old friends.

For me, drawing is a very old friend. I’ve known it for years and it remains one of the primary reasons why I managed to survive in the creative world as a designer. We’ve had our ups and downs. It has brought me some success in my job through it’s capacity to allow me to communicate ideas effectively, it has also been, at times, the last thing I’ve wanted to do. Sure enough though, we re-acquaint ourselves in the end and carry on as if nothing happened. The intervening time seeming only a momentary pause.

Like a lapsed musician returning to his instrument after a long and protracted break, so has been the nature of my relationship with one of my oldest and most favourite abilities. It’s not been easy.

When I started working as a product designer I used to spend days, weeks sometimes, sketching and drawing. Ask any designer about sketching out ideas and invariably they will regale you with tales of the mountains of sketch sheets generated at the early stages of projects. Although the reality is that only a small proportion of the time spent on a project involves this activity, when you’re in it up to your eyeballs, it feels like it’s the only thing you do. As things have moved on and my role in projects has changed, so has my involvement in this stage of the work. In a nutshell, I get to do it less and less. My transition into modelmaking and prototype building means I don’t get to sketch like I used to. My drawings have changed from fanciful idea generation into a more diagramatic form as it has become a tool to aid me in working out how to make things. It’s still creative in a way but, in a very different way.

As an antidote to all this notionally technical output I’ve tried over the years to keep up with a sketch book in my own time, and occasionally branch out to complete the odd comical commission. This activity has served to remind me that I can still do it, but often in a very sporadic and unfocused way. One thing I noticed however is that because my work requires that I depict hard reality, when it comes to what I draw in my own time it takes the form of images derived directly from my imagination.

The fuel that feeds that imagination engine is derived from my other passion, notably motorcycles. I love ’em. Not taking into account a short break between 1985 and 1992, I’ve been riding them since I was 17 years old. Over the years they have woven their way into the whole of my life. Because of this interest, I find them, and the world around them, a rich source of inspiration for my drawings.

This is the kind of thing that pops out of the end of the pen these days.

What I thought might be interesting, using this blog as a kind of public sketchbook, would be to publish some of the drawings that I’m now producing and take the time to explain my way through their genesis. It won’t be purely an expose of where the ideas come from but perhaps taking a closer look at the processes, both technical and creative, that lead to them being the way they are. I’ve always found that the story behind something can often be as interesting as the item itself. This will also serve as a really good way to force myself to think about my drawing. When you’re deep into creating an image you are often employing loads of little bits of tacit knowledge and skills to guide you, and this happens almost subconsciously. Presenting oneself with the need to explain what’s going on means you then have to think quite clearly about what’s going on.

So I will start to pick up on some of these things over the next few posts.

The drawing above was very quickly roughed out in a big A3 sketchbook and then inked over using a good old fashioned black biro pen. I think you can see immediately that I enjoy a sense of the absurd and slightly silly.

I hope you enjoy it, and by the way, if the size and resolution is a bit small I apologise, I’m still learning this stuff and will address this as soon as I can.