I’ve had a go at shading exercises in boxes or strips like this before, but it was good to revisit and to compare side-by-side the effects which can be achieved using different media. As well as lines and dots I added in a scribbly stroke which I have seen demonstrated at an art group (by local artist Ian Pethers – see www.glenrockstudios.co.ukand  www.drawntothevalley.co.uk/artists/detail/ian–pethers/); I have hitherto used this to some effect in landscape drawings.

I had a go at the mug, a curved shape, using straight hatching lines with a dip pen, some quite long, some very short – not a complete success – I’ve got the lights and darks but not much of a mid-tone. Then I tried the same mug using my scribble stroke; the carpenter’s pencil I was using doesn’t allow much variety of tone by way of pressure, so you have to do it with increased coverage – at close quarters the effect is frankly weird, it looks like a mug made of wool, but at a distance I prefer it to the pen-and-ink version, I think I’ve achieved more gradations of tone.

Next I tried the box in ballpoint pen. I quite often sketch in ballpoint pen when I’m out and about, usually because it’s all I can find in my handbag or pocket – it is good for hatching, but with the downside of the occasional blob. I made my life difficult by drawing my charcoal box, which had a strong black and white design, so much squinting was needed to pick out the bits which really were dark – but I’m pleased with the effect, I do feel I’ve made it 3D.

The bottle of black ink was the last and the quickest drawing (near the end of our allotted art group time) and I wondered if I’d made the same mistake as with the charcoal box – but no, the shiny plastic of the lid and the glass bottle showed clear lights and darks. I used curved lines for the curved surface and I feel that this is the most 3D of all the drawings (even though slightly wonky).

So, what have I learned from this? 

• Vary the shading mark according to the shape and texture of the object you are shading
• Look carefully where a light comes up against a dark – is it actually a straight transition from one to the other, or should there be a mid tone in between?

I have hitherto denoted shadow by shading, usually working on smaller sheets of paper, but I am really growing to enjoy working on large sheets of paper with crayon or charcoal, and so I approached this exercise with a degree of expectation. After a couple of sketches in my A3 sketchbook playing around with the arrangement of my objects (a lidded serving bowl and a gravy boat) I chose the one I preferred (basically where the gravy boat looked the least weird – unless you looked at it exactly side-on, its sweeping curves did notgo where you would have thought they were going to!), I chose to work in charcoal on A2 paper.

            I worked in natural light on a bright day in our north-facing garden room, where the objects were lit from two sides, which made for a lot of unexpected shadow and reflected light. The objects were sitting on a small table of a similar colour, with occasional startling contrasts from the darker terracotta floor. Having chosen two very rounded objects, many of the shadows were also curved, but with some almost-straight lines where the objects reflected the windows. Many quite dark areas had a light sliver right at the edge where light was coming from behind them, and there were several interesting little light areas, eg under the handle of the serving dish.

            The tone of the background was close to that of the objects in several places; in others it was startlingly different. The cast shadows on the table were quite complex with the two light sources (three if you count the skylight above), which added to the interest of the piece.

            I feel my finished drawing shows clear contrast between lights and darks and is quite a strong lively rendering (which of course might not be appropriate to all situations); I think a little more practice in looking at transition through the midtones would be of benefit.

My initial approach to this was on A2 off-white paper using a Conte crayon. The paper felt big to me but I tried to use bold clear lines, without removing errors but just drawing over them. It was very tempting to do a quick light outline first in pencil to be “safe’, but I resisted it; I wanted to try to be bold and just go for it. These crayons are lovely to draw with, gliding across the page and allowing thick and thinner lines and grades of dark depending on the pressure you use, and I was soon immersed in the exercise. I tried to work top-left to bottom right to minimise smudging. I became aware part-way through the exercise, however, that the junctions between one item and the other were not falling in quite the right place; I tried to rectify this as I went along, but it has left one or two of the items looking a little misshapen.

I decided to have another go with the same layout (the angle was fractionally different due to my change of position) using the medium I had most enjoyed in the previous exercise, namely a stick and ink; this time, however, my stick was the bevelled end of a pencil, which allowed for both broad and very fine lines, whilst still retaining the randomness of the strength of line depending on when the ink ran out. I felt a bit more confident with this. I also tried to look more carefully at the negative shapes around and between objects, which helped me to be a little more accurate. When I’d finished I filled in the negative shapes with ink so I could see them clearly and compared them with the real thing – not perfect, but much closer to it; even though I misjudged the space a little and went off the edge, I was more pleased with this latter effort.

I have been reflecting on the drawing styles I have admired so far in my research, and find that they are actually very contradictory – the smooth, clear, minimalist lines of Nuno DaCosta (see Proj 1 Ex 1)versus the busy, scrappy lines of Susan Kemenyffy (see notes on Downs et al – Drawing Now).Signs of schizophrenia? I decided to experiment a bit more, so I tried this exercise again with each style.

First, I had a go at the Da Costa style using charcoal so that I could get the dark/light contrast:

Deciding which should be light and which dark was made trickier by the fact that I had rather perversely set my still life up under an electric light but also in front of a window – note to self to think better about light sources when setting up next time.  I was reasonably pleased with the effect (although less so with the shape of the sardine tin!), but think that it would have been even better using my ink-and-stick to get really sharp lines.

Next I tried the Kemenyffy style using a dip pen and ink:

The drawing was ok except for the blessed sardine tin, although I haven’t achieved the busy effect that she does, I don’t think – but part of her effect comes from the hatching and shading, which I haven’t tried yet, so will continue to experiment. I feel that, drawing large like this, the scrappy style is more my thing at the moment, but this could just be because I haven’t done much drawing large with solid lines, and practice might improve and change this opinion.

Looking back over all four drawings, I think the one that actually has the most energy and “zing” is the second ink-and-stick one, even though not quite the most accurate. It seems odd that the medium I first thought of as a bit of a laugh has turned out to be the one I enjoy the most! I do however see in this medium a way of uniting the two styles (Da Costa and Kemenyffy), partly because of its unpredictability, which almost enforces a mixture of clear bold lines and broken lines within the same drawing.

I went about this exercise backwards rather, in that I started playing about with frottage first. My initial sortie wasn’t always successful as the paper in my sketchbook was too thick and the pencil I randomly chose was too hard (HB). With a bit of trial and error I found I got much better results with a thinner paper (actually a scrap of packing paper from an Amazon parcel) and a 6B pencil – I got slightly carried away then and even ended up in the shower doing a rubbing of the hose! – see A5 sketchbook. Once I started looking around the house there were myriad different textures everywhere – even my husband started spotting them and directed my attention to the glass in our windows and doors (we live in an old early Edwardian house and have most of the original patterned glass). By this time I had remembered some uber-thin paper I bought for Chinese brush painting which is great for rubbings (with care) and adds interest from its own slightly uneven texture.

I wanted to include some of the rubbings in my other work on texture and have done so although the thinness of the Chinese paper is a bit limiting in terms of the robustness of strokes and marks which can be made.

I tried to capture the texture of a piece of knitwear using a Conte crayon; the thickness of it could denote whole individual stitches, and the sharp edges were used to catch the plies of an individual stitch. The rubbing in the centre does not mirror the knitted pattern exactly, but on the other hand I felt it did represent the regular spacing characteristic of a lot of knitted fabric.

            I approached the depiction of the skin of a (slightly dried-up) lemon using my favourite medium from Exercise 1 – the stick and ink. On close inspection of the lemon, the indentations formed themselves into lines and whorls and the pattern was very complex, and I had to play about with the relation between the size of individual dots and the size of “runs” of dots with this medium – not sure I have it entirely right, might need another go. I did this on a sheet of rubbings from a piece of glass – the rubbing pattern again is not exactly the same, although it does indicate to my eye a surface of hills and depressions; but I included it mainly because I felt it depicted that burst of tangy taste in your mouth when you bite on a lemon.

            The bark on a log was fun to try – I used watered ink and made the patches by pressing the paintbrush head flat; the dark shadows at the edges of each patch were drawn in using a thick black marker pen, and I finally found a perfect use of the dreaded black oil pastel, which was perfect for the scumbly areas in-between the bark flakes. Again, I chose to do this on a sheet including a rubbing which gave the impression of a wavy surface, which you get from looking at the bark with half-closed eyes.

            For a smooth and shiny soapstone statuette I wanted to try applying sweeps of ink with a palette knife, so reverted to a sketch book page as a more robust support. This method has the potential to represent planes of light and dark well and to enable clear edges between light and dark (although I think I need more practice in using it accurately). Great fun to do, though!

Finally, I had a go at depicting the surface of a piece of natural sponge – this proved quite a challenge, and again I opted for sketchbook paper. I wetted the paper over an area the rough shape of the sponge, dropped in some ink, and then tried to scrape into it using the end of a paintbrush. I can’t claim this was an overwhelming success; interestingly, it all dried more quickly than I expected, and the scraping soon became rather difficult. I think the overall effect looks more like a negative photograph of a sponge than the sponge itself. 

            It has been helpful to be pushed into experimenting with a wider range of methods of showing texture than I have tried hitherto; some of my experiments have met with some success (particularly the bark and the soapstone), whilst others have been less so. I am aware I have still only basically used ink with a few forays into pastel, crayon and pen – clearly this aspect of drawing is very much the tip of the iceberg as far as I am concerned, and is an area which I shall need to work on a lot more over the coming weeks and months.