I’ve just finished a drawing, I say finished when really I mean ‘stopped’. It had been in my mind for some time, the idea to ‘make a drawing’, and it has only really come to any sort of fruition because of various other thoughts about drawing, ‘why do we draw?’, ‘for what purpose?’, ‘to what end?’ etc and some research.
I decided at some point to try and consider drawing as more than just a planning sketch of an idea or notion, but to use it much more consciously. To plan and then to develop, to begin with a sketch and then to develop that sketch into a separate, considered drawing. Dare I mention it but at this stage the idea is already sounding much too contrived for my liking. Needless to say the drawing turned into what I consider to be a hollow, empty piece of paper with some marks and lines on it. A drawing that managed to do no more, probably less, than the original sketch.
Why then was I trying to draw? I have begun to realise that it came about due to the self applied pressure I put on myself to make ‘images’, aka, presentable 2D works. To make drawings is something that is considered to be a fundamental process of art making, and that will often become ‘art’ themselves. And for much of my life the act of drawing of making drawings, has been fundamental to my development. But it has always been in flux, constantly changing as I learn and develop an understanding of its necessity. To draw ‘well’ was at one time important to me, to understanding things like perspective and scale, tone and depth, as I gained an understanding and ability for these things I began to think differently, to alter the things I had learned, to question them, to abuse them. To draw ‘well’ became unimportant, or the term ‘well’ came to mean a different thing. And now I find myself at this point, a crossroads of some sort, where I am beginning to question how important it is to draw at all.
I feel I learn very little now when I sit down to draw, I feel I have to force myself, to try and find new things, which will never happen under these circumstances. It no longer interests me because at the moment I have no more questions to ask of drawing, and have a sense that drawing can give me no more answers. Maybe at some point I will have new questions to ask, or will have forgotten old answers and need to find them again, but for now, for me, maybe drawing has ended. I may use pencil, I may sketch, but I will no longer make drawings.