Still life

My daughter’s art teacher suggested a way of developing observation skills: setting up little still lives everywhere (at home using toys, at restaurants, at the playground) and drawing them either right on the spot or later, from memory. I thought it would be a neat exercise to try for myself, and yesterday I did it for the first time. I was sitting at my favourite cafe in the morning when I noticed that the direction of the shadow from a water glass on the table accidentally lined up with the milk pattern on the surface of my latte.

I cheated bit in terms of memory training – instead of sketching the scene right there and then or tying to remember it in detail, I snapped a picture on my phone and used it later as a reference for sketching.

Contrast

In the spirit of paying attention to beautiful little things throughout the day, I snapped a picture of snowdrop flowers by the sidewalk. Somehow, they looked incredibly white and fresh, but not neat and pretty. The last few days/weeks were rainy, and the flowers were splattered with mud. I found another bunch of snowdrops nearby that were a bit cleaner, but for some reason, when I took a photo, it didn’t have the same sense of freshness.

I think it’s the actual mud that made the snowdrops look prettier by contrast – another reminder that context makes all the difference.

This reminded me of the essay called “In Praise of Shadows” by Junichiro Tanizaki. He talks there about the importance of shadows in accentuating bright elements of design in Japanese architecture, among other things. Looking a bit closer, he uses a juxtaposition of western and eastern cultures to showcase the latter – kind of a meta-contrast. It is fascinating and continuously surprising, a bit like the Japanese culture itself.

Learning to see

“The camera is an instrument that teaches people to see without a camera.”
— Dorothea Lange

I’ve been watching a video of Richard Feynman’s lecture on the laws of physics, and he described the essence of the scientific approach like this: “This is the key of modern science, this is the beginning of the true understanding of nature – this idea that to look at the thing, to record the details and to hope that in the information thus obtained may lie a clue to one or another of a possible theoretical interpretation.”

The ability to observe is of primary importance both in science and in art. Leonardo da Vinci, who was an exceptionally keen observer, is a stunning example of a genius straddling both fields. There is some evidence that he, in fact, made no distinction between the two. Feynman also drew and played drums. He said at the beginning of his lecture at Cornell that somehow physicists and mathematicians always mentioned his artistic interests, but when he played drums at a club, no-one ever said that he was also a theoretical physicist. He attributed it to higher appreciation of arts compared to science.

The good thing is that the capacity for observation is a trainable skill. One exercise for developing it is to take photos of various random objects throughout the day. The idea is that the mere act of looking for subjects to take pictures of encourages us to be more tuned to our surroundings. I’ve decided to put to to practice and snapped a picture of a tree with multiple trunks as I was walking across campus yesterday. Then, I thought that it would be even better to turn it into a sketch. Here is the result – made on an iPad in ProCreate with an Apple Pencil.

Things I like

One of the things I look forward to every week is waiting for my daughter while she goes to an art lesson after school. I sit at a cafe next door to the studio, and the one hour I have there feels like a bonus time to catch up on things that usually get crowded our of my day. I am glad that she is doing something that she enjoys and that, at the same time, I can work on something without the pressure to be productive.

Surprisingly, productivity takes care of itself, probably because I don’t rush to finish anything in particular and can actually think about what I am doing. I can think about the paper I’ve been reviewing and how it relates to my own research instead of rushing to finish and submit the review, as I often do in the office during “regular” work hours. Or I feel free to play with photos on my phone or computer to explore new processing techniques. Or I can read my own notes on the books that I’ve read in the past. Sometimes, I surprise myself with the ideas that I had at the time, but completely forgotten.

Sketching at the museum

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We discovered that our daughter loved drawing in museums when we are on sabbatical in Milan last year. We would bling her sketchbook and pencils wherever we’d go, and she would stop in front of every sculpture to draw it.

Today, we went to the Royal BC Museum in Victoria to see the wildlife photography exhibit, and there were some interactive setups aimed, I suppose, to teach kids the “rule of thirds” of composition. One could look at an animal figure through a frame with some wire grid and sketch it on a piece of paper.

Our daughter was happy to draw the animals, and she thought that the frame was cool, but as far as I could tell, she did not use any composition rules. I am glad that she she feels in her element drawing in public. And I miss our Italian museum trips, where my daughter and I sat side by side, sketching something. We should start drawing together again, while she still wants to do it.

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Meta-creativity

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We stop by a local cafe t have a cup of hot chocolate after school and before my daughter’s art lesson. It’s a boost of sugar-induced energy after an already long day and an un-rushed comfort of a warm drink on a cold (by Victoria’s standard anyway) night.

It turns out that her creativity is well primed for the upcoming lesson. The foam on the hot chocolate comes expertly decorated by the barista with a doodle of a bear. That’s what I call applied art! My daughter sees the bear and raises the stakes by sipping the milk carefully, so the bear turns into a bunny…

I simply cannot complain about running of subjects for photos when surrounded by creative people everywhere I go.

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Learning from the master

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This is a tree that I see from my office window. I snapped a picture of it with my phone and did the drawing afterwards on an iPad.

I have been learning to draw from my six-year-old daughter. Not the technique per se, but to enjoy the drawing process itself. Children are masters of having fun, and my daughter’s drawing is a perfect example. She enjoys it so much that she goes right to her desk when she comes home, without even changing out of her school clothes. It doesn’t bother her at all that she might not have time to finish the picture, that she might get interrupted halfway through her project by us calling her to have dinner. In fact, she probably doesn’t view drawing in terms of projects at all. It is simply something to enjoy at the moment.

I find that emulating this attitude is not as easy at it sounds. The barriers that keep me from doing it are entirely imaginary. For example, when I was on sabbatical, I found time to sketch almost on a daily basis. I enjoyed it a lot and thought that it was a great exercise for developing observation skills. Now, when I am firmly back to my daily routine, I objectively don’t have any less time for sketching. In fact, I have even more opportunities – all my art supplies are right here in my house. Yet, somehow I hesitate to start something that I might not be able to finish, even though there is no external pressure to complete “the project” whatsoever.

So I am learning this child-like attitude from my daughter – taking action for the fun of it and not worrying about the result.

Cookie-cutter projects

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Over the long weekend, my daughter and I finally finished the soapstone carving project that we started almost a year ago. We bought a kit that contained a block of stone cut out in a rough shape of an orca. It looked exactly as if it was done with a cookie-cutter. In fact, it was made by hand using a scroll saw. We talked to the sculptor, who made these kits. He said that it took he quite a bit of trial and error to find the right dimensions of the cutout. But once it was done, it was matter of rounding the edges and smoothing the surface to produce a rather neat carved figure of an orca. The success was practically guaranteed, and a 6-7 year-old kid could produce a carving in a matter of hours.

In our defence, the reason it took us so long was that we had to leave the figure unfinished while we went to Europe for most of the year. All that was left to be done was to wax and buff the surface. We used a hair dryer to heat the stone orca (it became so hot that I had to hold it with a towel!) and rubbed it with a piece of wax, which was also in the kit. When the stone cooled down, we buffed the surface with a piece of cloth.

I wonder if it is the key to a successful and enjoyable creative project for beginners in any field: having the most time-consuming part pre-completed (e.g. providing a pre-cut rough shape of a statue with correct proportions), while leaving some room for creativity in terms of small details and finishing touches.

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This principle worked in a similar way, when my wife and daughter baked chocolate muffins to celebrate our daughter’s birthday at school. Both enjoyed the baking, largely because they used a store-bought mix for the dough.

Probably, this idea of having the hard work done is behind the enduring popularity of colouring books. After all, the outline is already there, with the proportions and the composition taken care of. All that is left is to have fun colouring the details.

University students sometimes complain that the projects they are doing in the labs are “cookie-cutter experiments”, meaning that the outcomes are predetermined, and there is no element of scientific discovery in their work. Perhaps, the instructors, who design the projects, need to find a balance between guiding the students by having some of the preliminary work done beforehand, but allowing enough uncertainty in the remaining process to enable sometimes-surprising results.

Then again, at some point someone would have to learn how to do the entire project from scratch, starting from the metaphorical rough piece of stone and finishing with a polished sculpture. There is a great pleasure in creating your own paintings instead of colouring within the lines all the time.

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Attention to detail

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I was watching “Whisper of the Heart” (耳をすませば) with my daughter. It was a rare case where she had seen the movie before, and I had not. So she was happy to give lots of spoilers: she would explain which character was good, which was evil, which two would fall in love together, etc.

It’s a great positive movie, and thought, what makes it so special and fun to watch? What makes all Miyazaki’s movies special? What makes Japanese things special, for that matter?

I think it’s attention to detail.

Studio Ghibli’s animation is decidedly not photo-realistic, but the details of the plot, of the characters’ interactions and of the drawings are incredibly intricate. “Kiki’s Delivery Service” and “My Neighbor Totoro” are some of my daughter’s (and my) favourite movies. Sometimes, it seems that the details are all there is in these films – there is no clear overarching “moral of the story”. In “Totoro” in particular, it seems like nothing is happening in the plot. We are just looking over the shoulder of a family that is living its everyday life. But of course, this very everyday life of the two girls and their parents is full of magic. It’s just that the adults are not seeing it. So in these movies too, the magic is in the details that are right before our eyes.

For me personally, working on small details is the best part of any project. When I paint, take photos, practice kendo, teach or do research, nailing down the nuances is where fun is. Stages like overall initial planning and making sure the details fit together in the big picture are necessary, but they are not so enjoyable.

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What can you draw in 5 minutes?

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Today, my daughter made me an offer I could not refuse: “Let’s do an exchange: I’ll draw a picture for you, and you draw one for me.”

I thought it would be an interesting challenge: what could I draw in five minutes or less? (Because that’s about how long it takes her to draw one of pictures.)

One of my favourite ways to procrastinate is by not staring doing something because I would convince myself that I either don’t have enough time to do a proper job or don’t have the right tools/environment/fill-in-the-blank. This time, I had my iPad already open, so I thought, alright, game on.

I was given some creative direction, of course. My daughter wanted a picture of a she-wolf and her cub, “but not a scary one”.

The process and the result are below. I used ProCreate for iPad and Apple pencil.

An by the way, I did lose the challenge, because she made two picture in the time it took me to do one.