Cold Spaghetti

When Will was born, our multi-talented friend Dave (really, folks, this guy can do anything) made a pencil drawing of infant Will being held by Paul based on a photograph he took of them.  It was and remains one of the most precious gifts we’ve been given.  That feeling of seeing something handmade capturing my baby… the surprise of it, the delicate details within it, the touching realization of someone laying out each detail with line by line care… it hits straight to the heart.

So a few years ago, when I wanted to do something really special for Gwen on Clare’s first birthday, I remembered Dave’s gift.  It had been years since I drew with any regularity — and more than a decade since I had drawn my last portrait sketch.  But I decided I was going to do it, so I made a few practice sketches and worked up to a final product.

A year-and-a-half later, I drew one of my nephew.

And ever since then, I’ve wanted to do more, but couldn’t get around to it.

I knew, too, that I really wanted to try and draw from my own photographs (if possible) so that I could use the camera with a drawing in mind (not every good photograph lends itself to a good drawing).  Ultimately, though, I knew that I wanted to make one for Emmy.  At one point, my goal was to make one as a gift from the school to our director.  But I couldn’t get it together to make it happen.  Even as the thought remained, nothing clicked.   Then she had Oliver this fall and I knew.

In order to make sure I’d follow through, I TOLD a few people.  Then I started.  Checked on what supplies I needed, dug out my old sketch pads, and dove in.  After a few passes during my work and commenting on the progress, Paul finally commented that I should be taking pictures of it step by step.  Here is what I took:

This is my set-up… a few versions of the same photograph in black and white, three graphite pencils of differing softness, charcoal sticks, blending papers, erasers, tissues, a rag and (not pictured) a lamp.  I try to use tissue paper under my hand so that the oils from my hand don’t smudge the rest of the piece.  The rag is to wipe occasionally in case my hands get hot or cramped, the lamp turns on and off to help me see things differently, and I use a ton of erasers because I’m still not convinced any of them are my eraser of choice.

In the picture above, you can see that I’ve filled in some hair, part of an ear, an eye, and his nose.  You can just barely make out the lines of faint charcoal that mark the features I’ve yet to fill in.

Below is another view.  Note that the tissue paper lifts off the charcoal as I go, which is a bummer.  I freaked out a bit when I got to his lips and they were almost completely gone.

Here I’ve filled in the other eye but still have a lot of detail work to add.  I think I ended up re-working this eye three times.

I was most nervous about his lips.  They are so full and puckered — a prominent part of his features.  I knew that this was the make-or-break part of the picture.

This is getting close to done, or so it seems, but really there was still a lot to do.  Filling in the rest of the facial features, shading in the whole face so everything balances.

Almost there!  Can you see any of the detail difference?  Or, better said, do you FEEL the differences?  I feel them before I see them, which sounds a bit out there but is completely true.  Or maybe it’s evidence that I don’t use my words well.

Here is the FINISHED version.  I knew I had to have a frame on hand immediately — lest I would be pulled into messing around more with it and risk ruining it with too much.  (This is one of my greatest weaknesses when I work on a piece… I can’t pull myself away.)  I’m bummed I didn’t think far enough in advance to get a mat.

I gave it to Emmy this morning.  Unfortunately, I wasn’t there when she opened it, but I know it meant a lot to her to receive it.  And maybe this sounds a little trite and Pollyanna-ish, but it meant so much more to me to give it.  I know what it feels like to receive something like this and can say without hesitation that it feels even better to know you’re passing that feeling on… so it makes me all awkward to say ‘you’re welcome,’ when I’m just so happy to have done it at all.

And now?  Now I’m bummed that I just agreed to teach this spring because I want to draw more.