Before I start sounding ungrateful and whiny, let me first begin by saying that the observational drawing class I took last winter did wonders to my still and life drawing abilities. It taught me to be patient, to look at the world like a camera and to relax my style. After taking the class, however, I found that every time I started drawing some monster or something from my head, like I usually do, the quality sucked. It was as if all of the lack of technique and impatience that used to plague my observational drawings got up and decided to bother my imagination instead.
As a result, I just haven't drawn much at all lately. I might have more skill with observational drawing now, but I never use it for my day to day purposes. Observational drawing is good practice and a necessary skill, but it's very dull, and it usually leaves you feeling as though you're a lot worse than you thought you were. I've always thought it's more fun to draw things that have no business being in your house or your neighborhood.
So anyways, this morning I sat down and started doodling a picture of what I remember a WWII era British soldier would look like, since somebody is going to have to shoot down that treacherous Spitfire. I was about to start modeling the guy in 3D, so I figured I might as well sketch it out a little before hand to give myself sort of a rough guide. Five minutes into the drawing, I hit the frustration wall I've come to expect and gave up. What sat on the paper in front of me looked like something I would have drawn six years ago. Everything was out of proportion, flat, and the lines I had drawn had been retraced time and time again, as if I was hoping that if I drew the same line enough times, something magical would happen and it would suddenly look amazing.
To take my mind off of the situation, I went down to main street to get some ice cream at Cocoa Bean. It was closed. I walked down to Sweet Lou's for a smoothie. Also closed. This has nothing to do with my story, but it sucked nonetheless.
Reassuring myself that I wasn't a total artistic failure, I sat down with my sickly drawing and diligently modeled most of the guy's upper half; sans helmet and hands.
After about two hours of relatively continuous modeling, I took a break and decided to have another go at the drawing. Instead of scratching in vain like I'd done before, I began choosing my lines carefully. My hand started moving in ways I hadn't practiced. In the same amount of time, I'd produced a sketch that looked fundamentally different, almost as if I'd simply switched the pen back over to my right hand. It's still by no means anything to ogle at, but it looks a lot more like how I would doodle half a year ago.
I give all the credit to those two hours of modeling. I don't know whether it was the concentration or three dimensional train of thought or what, but it totally changed the way I drew. Maybe it was just the relief of being able to make something without having to constantly be punching god knows how many hotkeys and clicking like a mad man. Whatever it was, it worked.
People are always saying that fine art skills are so vital for succeeding in digital, 3D art, but is it foolish to suggest that 3D skills can have a similarly powerful effect on fine art?
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