Drawing is another way of writing; letters are symbols that we learn to draw when we start school, and each of us has different handwriting. It’s the same for drawing, but the more we progress in education, the less we do it, and some of us completely stop (like me).
We are encouraged to draw when we are kids, and no matter the result, our drawings end up on the fridge or even in a frame on the hallway’s wall. I'm pretty sure what our parents liked about that drawing that made it to the fridge wasn't the subject's realism and adequacy of proportions.What they liked was how we used our visual vocabulary to transmit a message—how we translated what we saw on the paper with our crayons, the story of that drawing.
In preschool one day, during religion hour (it's awful that there was a religion hour in preschool, I know), the teacher asked us to draw Jesus. It was close to Easter, and she had spent a few weeks telling us that Jesus was a very special man; he was God in fact, but nonetheless, he looked like any other man, like our fathers. So I drew a human figure with a penis. And earrings.
I was 4 years old, and I drew Jesus with a pen in school during religion hour, yes.
My parents found it so hilarious that they kept the drawing, and they still have it now that I am nearly 33 (funny number talking about Jesus, alright).
My parents didn’t keep the drawing because it’s a well-represented image of Jesus. They kept it because it tells a story.
In life, we stop drawing when we reach the age of self-judgement. When we draw a tree, we see that it doesn’t look like a tree in reality at all. Let me tell you something: it is a very limited way of seeing art the idea that being good at drawing is measured by how well we can replicate reality as it appears. Drawing realistically is one of the ways, and anybody can learn it: it’s a technique.
But unfortunately, we are told all our lives that knowing how to draw means knowing how to draw reality as it looks. In school, we are encouraged to copy the shadow on the bowl placed on the table in the centre of the classroom in order to make it appear exactly as it is on the piece of paper. So we try to learn. Some of us have a natural tendency to do it effortlessly, others struggle.
I was one of those who struggled. I was used to saying, "I can’t draw".
Later in life, I often felt a push to reach for a pencil and paper, but I was reminded, by the result, that I wasn’t good at it. After all, my drawings were far from reality. Still, I wanted to give it a go because of that natural instinct I felt inside. It took me years to understand that I had to unlearn "how to draw".
It took me almost 7 years to explicitly realise that in order to be authentic and deliver a piece of art, I had to forget any taught technique and erase from my mind the restriction of rules.
I didn’t know it was one of the hardest things to do. To unlearn.
Sometimes people ask me if I can teach them how to draw. I always say I really can’t because now I know that drawing is a very private way of tracing figures on paper, and it is so personal that I would be sorry to interfere with that in any way. I often think, though, that I could teach people how to unlearn drawing as they have known it so far and facilitate them finding their own artistic voice. I would have loved to have had a safe pace to do it while I was going through it myself, and the best thing I could think of doing for somebody else is to provide that space and safety, along with some knowledge about media and supports.
I like to think of myself as an archaeologist of my soul, digging delicately to get rid of all the residues of my life happenings and to give value to my true self and my true way of drawing.
Lately, I am trying to go back to my little self and learn from her how to hold a pencil, to experience what it feels like. Only a happy process can lead to a good result. A good result is only the ending phase of a happy process. I want to be like a child again: don’t think of how the drawing will come out, grab the paintbrush, and have great fun while drawing. I have huge reasons to believe that the freshness and truth of the finished drawing can only be achieved this way.
I hope you agree with me if I say, at this stage, that you can draw. But I really empathise with you when you feel that block in front of the blank page. It is hard to let go of the over-constructions that have been built on our skin despite the fact we didn’t give our consent.
I wish for myself to someday reach the freedom I had that day when I drew Jesus with a penis and earrings.
And then, to be honest, how far from reality was I really?
Marty your words resonate for me also . I reflect on how much effort and frustration trying to draw accurately takes ! It’s a skill to be learned - but in the process and artist can lose their individual unique expression. It stops creative people from exploring different ways to draw and paint when the emphasis is on perfection of capturing anything in a lifelike way. For many years after art school I abandoned my painting as it was time consuming and soulless . I gravitated to collage and mixed media as it loosened me up and still allowed me to express something - now in my 60’s I m back to drawing again .. go figure . I have a different accepting attitude now to express differently . It feels wonderful! Ps love your Jesus drawing Cheers and thanks for your thoughts Heather
Love everything about this post, it’s all so relatable (sadly, in a way...). Thank you for putting into words what I am sure we all experience on some level, for some things we do. Also: given the time span for his presumed existence, I’m fairly sure Jesus DID have earrings 😂