Taking your drawing outside

How to take the skills you’ve learned on a small scale into the outdoors.

Go on a small local expedition first.

A Simple Kit. Take familiar materials which are convenient and easily portable. What are you most comfortable with? Perhaps just starting with a 2B pencil and small sketchbook is easiest – you can fit thos into a pocket. A little case of select coloured pencils? You can work with 12 and make most colours. Take a camera too, if you like to record information that way. It’s especially useful for things which are transient or in motion and are hard to capture without that magic of being able to freeze them in a photo.

Clothing. Wear clothes and shoes or boots in which you will be comfortable, and will protect you from whatever elements are at play – whether it’s sun, wind, or even rain. Remember if you are standing for any length of time without moving, you will cool off, so might need another layer, thicker socks, a hat. How are you going to access your materials? A small bag or a pocket might be enough. Decide if you are happy standing or sitting on the ground; you could take a small stool, or something waterproof to sit on (I often sit on my waterproof trousers, or a carrier bag, on the ground).

Optional: portable cup of tea. I always take one! Some water is a good idea, especially in hot conditions. When drawing one can forget the passage of time and ‘come to’ feeling hungry and thirsty.

Start walking. Amble, in a non-purposeful, easy way. You want to feel unpressured and be able to pay attention to what’s around you. One way to do this is to pay attention to your senses – not just sight, but scents, and sounds; the feel of the ground, the smell of the earth, the noise made by your footfall, and any sounds you can hear, whether wildlife or man-made. These can help you get into the ‘right mode’ way of being, which is optimal for creativity (see Betty Edwards, Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain, for more about that).

Look and See. What catches your attention? Here are some things which caught my eye three different local outings recently, two in gardens, one on the river Wey.

The subtle colours of the mossy rocks, and their shapes, against the leaf mould; the strong lines of the lock sides gates and the water pouring over the gates; the texture of the delicate spring flowers and the path receding away to …who knows where?

Start simple. All those things which apply to drawing small subjects indoors apply outside, it’s just on a different scale. You might start with drawing a detail – some leaves, some bark. If you’re drawing a scene, the trick is to focus on the larger aspects first – the large shapes, the colour contrasts, the textures and what marks might convey them. Make studies, not a finished drawing: get the composition right with a quick sketch of the large shapes; record the colour, either with colour swatches or notes about what colours are there; make some sketches of the details. This is drawing as a process, to learn about the subject.

Set a time limit. Draw for 10 minutes, to capture some element of what interests you. Draw for longer and you’ll have more time to investigate some other elements, as above.

I don’t really draw this fast….

Revist. If it’s local you can go back and look some more. There is always more to see; one reason for specialsing in a subject matter is because it takes time to truly see that subject and get to know it.

If you are anxious about being observed. A small sketchbook is very hard for others to look into. You can discourage looking with your body-language, hiding behind sunglasses or wearing a large hat! However, in my experience if anyone is curious, it is because thay have an interest in art and wish they could do it themselves. They might even be wishing they had your spirit of adventure to try.

Have you tried drawing outside? I would love to hear about your experiences: how was it? and perhaps what you drew, if you’re willing to share. Did any questions arise for you? Use the comments section below or send me a message via the contact form.

On really seeing, and expressing.

It’s chilly out this morning. Across the river, the grass is a very pale blue-ish green with its coating of frost. The bare treetrunks are dark umber browns, with a surprising cast of purple around the haze of twigs at the ends of their branches. The deep browny purple is lifted by the golden ochre colour of the grasses nearby. Behind, the soft, indistinct masses of hedgerows and trees are the stubtlest hues of blues and purples.

I’m surveying my selection of coloured pencils, tuning in to find the ones which will enable me to create the right hues for the landscape I’m in, how they look to me at this point in the day, in these conditions of light and cold. This red-violet, this ochre, this turqouise blue… how will they work together? I’m absorbed, and even though I’ve seen this view many times a week over the last ten years, I haven’t seen this version of it before.

That’s one of the things drawing does for me; gives me a way to be present, to really look, and look again. It stops me assuming I know what things are, prevents me from getting stale and becoming bored by my surroundings – and how important has that been, since our lives have been circumscribed by the pandemic and kept close to home? What a gift, to have a way to see the familiar afresh.

It’s also a tactile process. I love to focus on the feel of soft, creamy pencils or paint sticks; the sudden burst of colour as water brings a solid paint block to life; the feel of a paint-loaded brush moving across the sandy texture of a heavy watercolour paper. Do I like how the paint sits on this paper, or that paper? Do I prefer the feel of this pencil, as it leaves a trace of pigment from the stroke I make, or that one? Finding materials which feel right is part of the process, grounding and comforting, connecting me with my own tastes in a small but crucial way.

Since March 2020 drawing has become a mainstay, and I am lucky to have been able to share it with my students. Real-life classes which I taught before the lockdowns became virtual, and instead of constricting my world, running them live online has enabled me to connect with others across the country and the world. I’ve had students from the US, Australia, New Zealand, Canada, Spain, Brussels, Germany, and Russia join me and share their drawing journey together, many through the classes I teach at the Royal School of Needlework, and some from classes I run. I learn as much from students as they from me, and we have had moments of realisation, empowerment, joy, and laughter as we try things out, explore basic principles, find out what we like and don’t like, discover what we want to express, and how to encourage ourselves in the cradle of a supportive group.

I love to share what drawing gives to me, and to hear what it does for others, so I’m running another class for total beginners live online, starting on Janury 19th. It runs over three weeks on a Wednesday evening, via Zoom, and will be a small and supportive group. There will be plenty of opportunity to share and ask questions, but also no requirement to share if you don’t want to – after all, participants are at home and one of the benefits of that is that you can control your privacy. There wil be some suggestions of things to try between the sessions, and the chance to join one free Thursday evening or Monday morning drop-in session for free after the course, should you wish to. More information is available below on the learning page, and a link to book.

Learning or experiencing?

Makeplace 505 Beginners Tambour Over the last four years I’ve been learning and then training as a Thinking Environment® facilitator. The cornerstone of the Thinking Environment is the principle that people can think well for themselves, given the right conditions. They involve being in the presence of a listener whose attention and encouragement is wholly yours, and who trusts completely that you are creative, altruistic, intelligent and can think for yourself.

That work, and delivering Thinking Environment and training for the NHS, researchers, undergraduates and local people at a regular community event I run with a colleague, has been slowly informing my teaching of embroidery, something else I fnd very rewarding. I’ve been pondering how could I make my classes more about the student discovering and exploring for themselves, and less about me leading from the front.

I started to introduce rounds, and ask people to share what’s going well, what’s their favourite sort of embroidery, what’s a project they’re proud of. Then, after a student volunteered some very useful feedback about what had been most helpful for her in learning the technique, I started to ask, what have you learned this morning that was most useful? what went well about today? what else would you like to see in the course?

Now I’ve started to ask myself, ‘how can I give them the experience of exploring and learning for themselves? How little information do I need to give, and what questions will stimulate their learning?’

On Sunday I was teaching tambour embroidery at the Royal School of Needlework. We had a really fun, collaborative day with a relaxed atmosphere and everyone sharing their learning, questions, and tips from their own considerable textile experience. It felt easy as the teacher; I wasn’t tired or drained, but energised by the day. The participants reflected that they’d enjoyed the warm, friendly environment, and left with smiles and thanks.

So now I’d like to ask you. What are your best experiences of learning? what works for you? Please leave your comments below.