DRAWING LIFE by fred hatt

2013/01/25

Working Big – Part 2: Weaving with Bodies

Explorer, 2010, by Fred Hatt

Explorer, 2010, aquarelle crayon on black gessoed canvas, 72″ x 72″, by Fred Hatt

In last month’s post, “Working Big – Part 1”, I shared a selection of large figure drawings done at or near life-size. Over the last decade I’ve also been doing large-scale drawings with multiple overlapping figures.

In the Drawing Life post “Time and Line”, I wrote about how I arrived at this approach, and how it relates to my earliest creative impulses. I wrote:

The cubists were trying to move beyond the limitations of the pictorial or photographic view by showing their subject from multiple angles simultaneously, suggesting the third spatial dimension not by the traditional way of projection or perspective, but by fragmentation. In these drawings, I’m fragmenting the fourth dimension, time, to bring it onto the plane and into the frame.

On my portfolio site I describe these drawings as “chaos compositions”, and briefly describe the process as follows:

Chaos Compositions emerge from a two-phase process: first generating a chaotic field through a response to movement, followed by working to reveal order hidden within this chaos.

I work on the floor, crawling over the large sheet and covering it with overlapping sketches of movement or quick poses taken by a model-collaborator. Once the drawing reaches a certain density, like a tangle of threads, I begin to work on carving a structure out of this undifferentiated energy field. I bring some of the layers of drawing forward by adding depth and weight to the forms, and push others into the background or into abstraction. I alternate between crawling on the drawing, where individual lines can be followed like paths, and standing back to get a sense of overall form and balance.

What is expressed in these works is not a concept or a personal feeling, but something unconceived, a spirit that emerges from the moment, from the interaction of artist and model and environment.

Several chaos compositions are included in the gallery “Time and Motion Drawings” on my portfolio site.

Still more posts about this process are linked in connection with some of the drawings below. As you can see, I’ve written fairly extensively about this way of working, and you can follow those links to read all about it if you wish. Here I’ll just share a selection of these pieces, with some unstructured thoughts about what these odd drawings mean to me.

End in Ice, 2012, by Fred Hatt

End in Ice, 2012, watercolor on paper, 38″ x 50″, by Fred Hatt

Each model embodies a certain particular essence, a range of qualities that express the way his or her self and structure exist in the world.

Follower, 2006, by Fred Hatt

Follower, 2006, aquarelle crayon on black gessoed canvas, 72″ x 72″, by Fred Hatt

The curves of the body in all its different attitudes become waves in a field of energy. My drawing surface becomes a sensitive membrane that receives these vibrations.

Colt, 2011, by Fred Hatt

Colt, 2011, aquarelle crayon on paper, 37″ x 48″, by Fred Hatt

Each piece is a portrait of one model. These are not different bodies sharing a setting, but different moments exposed on the same emulsion.

Ruminate, 2011, by Fred Hatt

Ruminate, 2011, aquarelle crayon on paper, 36″ x 60″, by Fred Hatt

To look at these drawings is not to look at a picture, but to fall into a vortex, a field of chaotic forces.

Biome, 2011, by Fred Hatt

Biome, 2011, aquarelle crayon on paper, 37″ x 48″, by Fred Hatt

By finding and following the lines that define the overlapping bodies and faces, we find our way through the maze of the drawing. For me this experience is metaphorical, for in the field of forces that is the world, it is our own bodies and identities that ground us and give us continuity.

Contain, 2011, by Fred Hatt

Contain, 2011, aquarelle crayon on paper, 36″ x 66″, by Fred Hatt

I want the viewer of these drawings to get some flavor of the experience I have when drawing them, an experience of surrendering to complexity but discovering clarity in the body and its life force.

Verso, 2008, by Fred Hatt

Verso, 2008, aquarelle crayon on paper, 48″ x 60″, by Fred Hatt

The chaotic nature of the world is inherent to its beauty. Geological and biological forms, clouds and galaxies, grow out of the infinite complexity of interacting energies and interdependent beings.

Hold, 2011, by Fred Hatt

Hold, 2011, aquarelle crayon on paper, 37″ x 48″, by Fred Hatt

To grasp the universe is to lose the self in the moment. It is an experience I seek again and again, with a crayon in my hand.

Twists, 2010, by Fred Hatt

Twists, 2010, aquarelle crayon on paper, 48″ x 50″, by Fred Hatt

(The image above is deconstructed into its component figures in the post “Reverse Engineering a Drawing”)

Awakening, 2011, by Fred Hatt

Awakening, 2011, aquarelle crayon on paper, 37″ x 48″, by Fred Hatt

I don’t tell my models how to move, but let them find their own poses. I am not concerned with realistic rendering, but with the qualities of the curves and the forms of energy they seem to call up from the potent void of negative space. I am attempting to see beyond the surface of things.

Hero, 2010, by Fred Hatt

Hero, 2010, aquarelle crayon on paper, 48″ x 60″, by Fred Hatt

(The drawing above is included in the post  “Finishing Touches”, where I explore the development of the negative spaces in several chaos compositions.)

Water Cycle, 2011, by Fred Hatt

Water Cycle, 2011, aquarelle crayon on paper, 37″ x 48″, by Fred Hatt

When I am drawing, I am close to the large paper and cannot see the overall pattern. I am down in it, exploring whatever passage I have found for the moment. Later, looking at the drawing from a distance, I see it abstractly, as veins of color in a crystal, or as objects in a whirlwind. Then the eye discovers a face or part of a body, and that is an opening into the image, which can be traveled like a path through the woods, or like a strand of thought through the din of the chattering mind.

Gaze Angle, 2009, by Fred Hatt

Gaze Angle, 2009, aquarelle crayon on paper, 48″ x 60″, by Fred Hatt

(The phases of development of the piece above are detailed in the post “Composing on the Fly”.)

End in Fire, 2012, by Fred Hatt

End in Fire, 2012, watercolor, oil pastel, and aquarelle crayon on paper, 38″ x 50″, by Fred Hatt

These works, even more than my other drawings, are products of close collaboration with great models who share their own creative expression in the work. The models who posed for the large drawings in this post are Kuan, Pedro, Stephanie, Jillian, Madelyn, Neil, Milvia, Jeremiah, Kristin, and Jessi.

2013/01/13

Portraits of La MaMa

Ellen Stewart, 2011, by Fred Hatt

Ellen Stewart, 2011, by Fred Hatt

La MaMa Experimental Theatre Club, one of the world’s great laboratories for cultivating new talent and exploring new directions in the performing arts, celebrated its fiftieth anniversary in 2011.  Eric Marciano, an independent filmmaker for whom I have often worked as a videographer, produced some video pieces about the history and future of this great creative hothouse, and he asked me to draw portraits of a few of the key people interviewed or profiled in the clips, and to animate the process of creating the drawings.  Eric’s company, American Montage, recently posted the resulting clips to  its Vimeo page, so I can share them here with my blog readers.  The video is embedded at the bottom of this post (but those who receive the blog by email subscription will have to follow the link to see it on the web).

These drawings could not be done from life, as I always prefer in portrait drawing, but had to be done from photographs, or, in most cases, freeze-frames from video interviews.  They also had to be made to fit the wide 16 by 9 aspect ratio used for high-definition video, not the frame I would usually select for a portrait.  This means much of the frame would be background, so I’d need to develop background designs for each face.  I set up an easel with a camera on a tripod behind it, and as I worked on the drawings I stopped frequently to snap photographs of the work in progress.  The photographs were used to make animations of the drawings as they come into being, layer by layer.

In “Faces of Figureworks“, the exhibition featuring self-portraits by fifty artists currently on view (through March 3, 2013) at Brooklyn’s Figureworks Gallery, I’m showing a new self-portrait drawing alongside a similar, but slower, animation of that drawing’s evolvement, displayed on a digital photo frame.

I remember being fascinated as a kid by Henri-Georges Clouzot’s 1956 film Le mystère Picasso, in which the famous artist painted on back-lit glass panels so the development and alteration of the works is recorded as it happens in time.  It made me aware of drawing as a time-based artform.  While we usually see drawings or paintings only in their finished form, their creation is a process of movement and change.  Many of the directions I have explored in my own work, including painting as a performance, and many posts here on Drawing Life, have been my attempts to explore my own process, and to share that process with others.

In this post I’ll share the drawings I made for the La MaMa video, with stills of each drawing in its finished form, and brief introductions of the subjects, and at the bottom of the post I’ll share the animated clip.

So many famous writers, performers, directors, designers, and composers have been associated with La MaMa that a small selection of portraits like this is necessarily a somewhat arbitrary sampling, but one name is essential.  La MaMa was the creation and lifelong project of Ellen Stewart, also known as Mama, whose portrait leads this post above.  Stewart, a fashion designer, started La MaMa as a performance café in 1961, a supportive place for the burgeoning creative experimentation of 1960’s New York and soon a magnet for artists from all over the world who were drawn to its cross-cultural playground of theatrical magic.

Andrei Serban, 2011, by Fred Hatt

Andrei Serban, 2011, by Fred Hatt

Stage director Andrei Serban is known for innovative approaches to classic texts with enveloping theatrical pageantry.

John Kelly, 2011, by Fred Hatt

John Kelly, 2011, by Fred Hatt

Artist, singer and dancer John Kelly transforms his persona to explore the worlds and psyches of Egon Schiele, Joni Mitchell, and Caravaggio, among others.

Peter Brook, 2011, by Fred Hatt

Peter Brook, 2011, by Fred Hatt

Since the 1950’s, director Peter Brook has been making spectacular, visceral theater and film with an international cast of collaborators.

Elizabeth Swados, 2011, by Fred Hatt

Elizabeth Swados, 2011, by Fred Hatt

Composer, writer, and director Elizabeth Swados makes exciting music and theater, crossing every boundary of style and genre.

Chris Tanner, 2011, by Fred Hatt

Christopher Tanner, 2011, by Fred Hatt

Visual artist and performer Christopher Tanner approaches everything he does with extravagant maximalism.

Mia Yoo, 2011, by Fred Hatt

Mia Yoo, 2011, by Fred Hatt

Mia Yoo, a former actress in La MaMa’s Great Jones Repertory Company, is Ellen Stewart’s successor, the Artistic Director of La MaMa ETC since Stewart’s death in early 2011.

And here’s the film, courtesy of Eric Marciano and American Montage, Inc.  There is a glitch in the first clip, where Peter Brook’s background disappears and reappears at the end, but this should give you a good look at how my drawing process works.  I believe the music is an excerpt from an Iggy Pop song.  If you don’t see the video here, follow this link.

2012/12/19

Working Big – Part 1

 

Nocturne, 2009, 48″ x 60″, by Fred Hatt

Many figurative artists carry on an ongoing practice in group life drawing sessions, as I do, but when they have a chance to work with a model in their own studio, they choose to do work that is much more planned, composed, and developed.  I tend to get less planned and more experimental when I work in my own studio.  It provides an opportunity for spontaneity and direct creative collaboration with the model that just isn’t possible in the group setting, and above all, it makes it possible to work on a bigger scale.  In a classroom shared with other artists, it just wouldn’t do for me to take over half the floor with an enormous drawing.

The crayon drawing above, like all the other large scale drawings in this post, was made without planning or preliminary sketches, going directly to work on a four by five foot sheet of black paper, and the figure is approximately life-size.  (The model is Museworthy‘s Claudia.)  This way of working doesn’t guarantee a good result – in fact, there’s a high failure rate.  The real disasters won’t be shared here.  When it does work, though, the resulting drawings can have a lively quality that too much thinking and planning tends to stifle.

In quick sketching, working much smaller, my way of approximating proportions is to rely on the rhythm of the movements of the hand.  A torso, for example, might be thought of as a musical measure, consisting of a quarter note for the curve of the breast, a series of sixteenth notes for the ribs, and a half note for the abdomen.  (That’s an explanatory metaphor – in practice I never think of visual rhythms in quite such precise terms.)  The smaller the drawing gets, the more difficult it is to use this rhythmic sense, because the movements used to make the lines become so small.  It is easier to feel the fluctuations of movement with the forearm than it is with the fingers, and it is easier still with the whole arm and shoulder.  Sometimes, as in the sketchbook page below, I try shifting the scale of my sketches as an exercise, and for me, working small is challenging!

fredhatt-2012-michael-quick-poses

Michael quick poses, 2012, 17″ x 14″, by Fred Hatt

I’ve done many portraits around twice life-size.  The human face is a complex cluster of forms, and when the drawing or painting is small, we are forced to simplify by the bluntness of our instruments.  You just can’t facet a diamond with a sledgehammer.  Upsizing the subject makes it possible to capture much more meaningful detail with our clumsy fingers and dull tools.

fredhatt-2011-marilyn

Marilyn, 2011, 19″ x 25″, by Fred Hatt

The remainder of this post consists of large scale figure drawings made in my own studio on papers ranging in size from about 30″ x 48″ (76 x 122 cm) to 60″ x 60″ (152 x 152 cm).  In past posts I’ve found that these large drawings, especially the complex ones with multiple overlapping figures, lose a lot of their impact and even legibility at the size I use for pictures on the blog.  I’ve made these images slightly larger than what I usually use here, but I haven’t made them much larger because I don’t want to give away online pictures of sufficiently high resolution to let someone make book-quality prints.  I hope these reproductions will give you a sense of what the originals are like, and if you want to see them in their full glory, you’ll have to visit my studio or an exhibit of my work!

Feet, 2007, by Fred Hatt

Feet, 2007, 48″ x 60″, by Fred Hatt

I often make my larger work in pairs.  The larger-than-life-scale crayon drawings above and below were done in the same session.  Both are 48″ x 60″.  These are on my portfolio site, and the digital images have been popular recently on Tumblr and Pinterest.

Back and Hand, 2007, by Fred Hatt

Back and Hand, 2007, 48″ x 60″, by Fred Hatt

You might think it would be hard to maintain proportions, painting in watercolors directly from life, without preliminary measurements or sketches, on a piece of paper too large to see all at once from working distance.  In fact, when making the figures smaller than life-size, proportion has been a problem for me.  It gets much easier when the figures are life-size, since I have a very good sense of how long an arm is, how big a hand is, and so on.

Mountain and Valley, 2012, by Fred Hatt

Mountain and Valley, 2012, 38″ x 50″, by Fred Hatt

Since I’m working directly from life, and I like the models to take interesting poses that might be challenging to hold over a long period of time, I try to work very quickly.  These are essentially quick sketches, not so different from what I’d do on a much smaller piece of paper in twenty minutes or so, and they have all the roughness that implies.  We’re not used to seeing the scribbly techniques of the quick sketch at this scale.

Towering, 2012, by Fred Hatt

Towering, 2012, 38″ x 50″, by Fred Hatt

The drawing above was made by observing through a mirror placed on the floor, to see the figure as though from beneath.  Of course this means the drawing was done upside down.

Spinal Curves, 2012, by Fred Hatt

Spinal Curves, 2012, 38″ x 50″, by Fred Hatt

Most artists doing observational work at large scale use an easel, but paper or canvas of this size mounted on an easel would be like a wall between the artist and the model.  For me it’s important to have open space between myself and the model, with no energetic barriers, so I do all of these big drawings on the floor.

Waxing Moon, 2010, by Fred Hatt

Waxing Moon, 2010, 48″ x 30″, by Fred Hatt

The pair above and below are done in aquarelle crayon on black paper.  Each piece is 48″ x 30″ – the smallest pieces in this post, besides the portrait and quick sketch examples seen near the top.  These drawings were featured in an earlier post, two years ago.

Waning Moon, 2009, by Fred Hatt

Waning Moon, 2009, 48″ x 30″, by Fred Hatt

In the next pair, I’m trying to get the kind of bodily expressiveness Rodin mastered in sculpture, using direct, no-sketch watercolor painting and life-size scaling, and working with exquisite dancer-models.

Melting Glacier, 2012, by Fred Hatt

Melting Glacier, 2012, 38″ x 50″, by Fred Hatt

Thawing Permafrost, 2012, by Fred Hatt

Thawing Permafrost, 2012, 38″ x 50″, by Fred Hatt

Since I’m working on the floor, I tend to favor reclining poses, as I can see the pose while crawling on top of the drawing paper, without craning my neck.  I love these unusual foreshortened views of the body, and I feel that the view of the head from above has a special subjective quality – it suggests the face we feel from within, rather than the face we present to the world.

Cool Down, 2003, 60" x 60", by Fred Hatt

Cool Down, 2003, 60″ x 60″, by Fred Hatt

Many of my large-scale figure drawings feature multiple, overlapping figures of the same model, incorporating the temporal dimension into the composition.  You can see many examples here,  and posts about the process here and here and here and  here, and those drawings will be the subject of “Working Big, Part 2”, to be posted in about a month.

Double Exposure, 2007, by Fred Hatt

Double Exposure, 2007, 30″ x 60″, by Fred Hatt

Thanks to my great model/collaborators for these drawings:  Claudia, Izaskun, Jeremiah, Kristin, Kuan, Pedro, and Yuko.

My work is included in the exhibit Faces of Figureworks: Self Portraits, January 5 – March 3 at Figureworks Gallery in Brooklyn, with an opening reception Friday, January 11.  I’ll post further details here soon.  If you’re in NYC, come see me!

2012/11/09

White & Black on Gray

Ben, 2012, gouache by Fred Hatt

It’s a classic drawing technique used by figurative masters like Albrecht Dürer and Pierre-Paul Prud’hon (see beautiful examples by both artists at the links) – work on a gray or mid-toned paper or ground, draw highlights in white and shadows in black, and you efficiently produce a full range of values.  If you work on white paper, on the other hand, you are starting from one extreme and have to construct the whole scale going in one direction, which turns out to be difficult and time consuming.  Most of the values we see in a real-life scene are closer to middle gray than they are to pure white or black.  Starting from a gray ground isn’t just a more efficient way to draw, it’s a more subtle way to observe.  You see the variations in relation to the average, noticing the brightest highlights and the darkest shadows, then looking for areas that are a bit lighter or a bit darker than their surroundings.

When I first started attending life drawing sessions as a regular practice, back in the mid-1990’s, I quickly realized that speed is of the essence in both observing and marking.  The timer is always running, and the model can only hold the pose for a limited time, and the more interesting is the pose, the more limited is the time.  So I want to draw as much as I can as quickly as possible, and the gray paper technique is amazingly swift.  In this post I’ll share a variety of my figure drawings and paintings using variations of this technique in its monochrome mode, with observations that may be of interest if you draw or paint or are interested in the process of observational art.  Some aspects of my technique may be more evident in the absence of color.

Reclining Male, 1995, Conté crayon by Fred Hatt

It doesn’t really matter what order you do things in.  Sometimes I start with contour lines, then add some shading, then pick up the highlights. If the highlights are lightened, the gray ground can represent a basic shadow.

Man and Shadow, 1996, Conté crayon by Fred Hatt

Sometimes I do a rough sketch with a colored crayon to figure out the overall structure, then use white to capture where the light falls on the subject, and black to deepen the crevices and the darkest part of the shadowy areas.

Reclining Curves, 1997, aquarelle crayon by Fred Hatt

I tend to prefer media like inks and crayons that don’t really blend, rather than ones like oil paint that blend easily.  The strokes of the pen or brush capture the energy of the process, and I don’t want those strokes to be lost in the smear of smoothness.  I try to make all the marks follow the three-dimensional contours as though they are moving over the surface of the subject.

Rudy, 1997, ink and gouache by Fred Hatt

It is light and shadow that make an image jump off the page.  The artist works out the structure of the image as it is projected onto a flat surface, but when light and shadow are added, the sketch is elevated to an illusion.

Head and Torso, 1998, aquarelle crayon by Fred Hatt

I often use color for the structural analysis phase of the sketch, working loosely, feeling proportion by the rhythmic progression of curves and the angular relationships of masses.  Then light and shade are added to make it all look solid.

Analysis of Reclining Figure, 2001, aquarelle crayon by Fred Hatt

Light adds the third dimension to an image because it adds another directional aspect.  A line drawing of contours as seen from the observer’s angle is just shapes on a flat surface.  When we add light and shadow, we add another point of view.  The light illuminates certain surfaces and not others because it is coming from an angle different from the observer’s line of sight.  The paper plane, the sight line, and the light line are dimensions of pictorial seeing, just as the X, Y, and Z axis are the mathematical dimensions defining a three-dimensional space or form.

Erik Inverted, 2001, aquarelle crayon by Fred Hatt

For me, the highlight areas usually reveal more form than the shadowy areas.  Sometimes I just dance all over the highlighted surfaces with white lines, staying very loose but always following the form.

Estella, 2001, aquarelle crayon by Fred Hatt

I try to keep my hand movement as free as possible, but the observations guiding them as clear and precise as possible.

George, 2001, aquarelle crayon by Fred Hatt

I am focused on light and shadow and form, but I want to let character and the quality of aliveness emerge from the process.

Arnold, 2002, aquarelle crayon by Fred Hatt

Hand on Thigh, 2002, aquarelle crayon by Fred Hatt

The human form is a complex arrangement of tension and impulse, layers of hard and soft and wiry and fluid.  There will always be much more there than you can capture with your eye and hand, but if you really go at it like a mad scientist you might get some of the feel of it in your sketch.

Inverted Torso, 2002, aquarelle crayon by Fred Hatt

While the highlights reveal more of the subtle shapes of the surfaces, the dark lines define the most salient edges, the deep grooves, the biometric landmarks.

Yisroel, 2002, aquarelle crayon by Fred Hatt

Sometimes I separate these aspects and repeat them, doing highlights or shadows now as lines, now as cloudy forms.

Studies of Robert, 2005, aquarelle crayon by Fred Hatt

Like color, the perception of values of light and dark is relativistic – every value is seen as lighter or darker in relation to its surroundings.  Starting with a gray ground allows us to draw relativistically, looking at every area in comparison to its surrounding average.  We let the gray ground be that local average, and use white and black to mark the local differences.

Andrew, 2006, aquarelle crayon by Fred Hatt

Much of my work is colorful, but if you ask me to name my favorite color, it will have to be gray.  Gray is the magical middle way, the point of balance, the axis, the mutable mean.  Holding the center maximizes freedom of movement.

Betty, 2010, aquarelle crayon by Fred Hatt

Light defines some aspects of a scene, and darkness defines other aspects.  Gray is the neutral ground, the zero that defines both positive and negative.

Model and Artist, 2010, aquarelle crayon by Fred Hatt

For many years I drew mostly with aquarelle crayons.  In the past year I’ve been experimenting more with gouache and watercolor paints, and sometimes combining these media with the crayons.  Rather than blending the paint, I tend to use fan brushes and cross-hatching techniques to add black to white, white to black, or either to gray.

Ben (detail), 2012, gouache by Fred Hatt

Above is a detail of the portrait that heads this post, a portrait drawn in about two hours in the session I supervise at Spring Studio.  Below is a larger-than-life scale portrait sketch made in a twenty minute pose in one of the figure drawing sessions at Figureworks Gallery in Brooklyn.  The technique is essentially the same, but the level of complexity is different.

Tinuola Profile, 2012, gouache by Fred Hatt

To translate light into line, I see light as a touch that strokes the figure, and I follow those strokes with my crayons and brushes.  White lines define the bright edges, and dark lines define the dark edges.  Scribbly strokes of white and black follow the subtler variations of tone.

Seated Back, 2012, gouache and aquarelle crayon by Fred Hatt

Here’s an attempt at a portrait of Claudia, the Museworthy blogger, from a session this past week at Spring Studio.  Claudia writes about art and life with a strong, engaging voice, shares a wide variety of great work, and gives a perspective on figurative art from the other side of the easel.

Claudia, 2012, gouache and aquarelle crayon by Fred Hatt

Sometimes I try to simplify lit areas into simple brush gestures with white paint.  The dark lines tend to define simpler, more straightforward contours anyway.  Reducing highlighted areas to white gestures brings dark and light into beautiful equilibrium.

Strength at Rest, 2012, gouache and aquarelle crayon by Fred Hatt

Part of the artistic prestige of sculpture and of traditional black-and-white silver halide photography comes from how discarding color can reveal the formal essence of an image.  This is Fly, an art model and artist of the “Peops” series of biographical portraits.

Fly, 2012, gouache and aquarelle crayon by Fred Hatt

Simplicity and formal clarity, and a highly efficient approach to observing and rendering.  White and black on gray.

Right Triangles, 2012, gouache and aquarelle crayon by Fred Hatt

All of the original drawings pictured in this post are in the range of 18″ x 24″ (46 x 61 cm) to 20″ x 28″ (50 x 70 cm).

2012/09/21

Statuesque

Grief, 2012, by Fred Hatt

Figure drawing sessions are back on at Figureworks after the late summer hiatus.  Randall Harris books great models in his home-like gallery space.  Each session has eighteen poses ranging from two minutes to twenty minutes, an ideal range for me to try out different approaches in my ongoing core practice of studying nature, energy, and expression through the human body and the act of seeing and drawing.  Our models for the first two sessions of the season were Colin and Susannah, both of them tall and strong, with long limbs and elegantly curved bones and muscles.  All drawings in this post are from those two sessions at Figureworks Gallery.

Colin in Light, 2012, by Fred Hatt

I think of drawing as closer to sculpture than to painting.  The eyes are the organs of touch at a distance.  With light and shadow I feel the form, and my markings are the strikes of the chisel and the strokes of the rasp, carving a form out of the block of paper.

About to Rise, 2012, by Fred Hatt

The sculptor’s model and work are on rotating platforms, to check from all sides.  Of course I don’t do that in a 20-minute pose, but the light striking the subject from different angles has different colors and qualities.  By differentiating these various lights and by observing how they fall across the contours of the figure, the form emerges in apparent depth.

Ovoid, 2012, by Fred Hatt

Tall Grass, 2012, by Fred Hatt

A ten minute pose is just enough time to “rough in” the form of the body, its major curves and its relation to the airy space surrounding it.

Holding Over, 2012, by Fred Hatt

The major curves are cut with swoops and swerves, the subtler undulations suggested with scrubbing scribbles.

Side Torso, 2012, by Fred Hatt

Form is energy, and it is the movement of the drawing hand that captures this energy.  There is a pattern of energy that causes matter to grow into the intricate form of a living body, to animate it with tides of breath and streams of blood and electricity of sense and impulse.

Structure of the Back, 2012, by Fred Hatt

The body contains the fire of creation, the dust of stars, the salt of the ocean, and all the memories of life’s evolution.

Above, 2012, by Fred Hatt

A living being is a bubble that rises from the sea of potentiality, floats free for a moment or a century, then falls to merge again into that sea.

Piano Bench, 2012, by Fred Hatt

Earth is our cradle and our crucible.  We grow out of it, walk upon it, and return into it.  We make our Eden or our Hell of it.

Grounding, 2012, by Fred Hatt

The body is a tube, and what passes through that tube is transformed into animal life.  The consciousness is also a tube, and what passes through it becomes a person.

Core, 2012, by Fred Hatt

The mind goes on these philosophical journeys while drawing a ten or twenty-minute pose.  Through the human body I contemplate the nobility and the fragility of being human.

Queen, 2012, by Fred Hatt

These are just sketches on paper, ephemera of an artist’s practice, but while making them I think of them as towering monuments, heroic statues to tell the beings of the future:  we were here, this we saw, this we made.

Resting Power, 2012, by Fred Hatt

The drawings on gray paper are 18″ x 24″.  The ones on white paper are from an 11″ x 14″ sketchbook.  Drawings are made with watercolor and gouache, aquarelle crayons, or a combination of those media.  All images in this post made September, 2012, in open figure drawing sessions at Figureworks Gallery, Brooklyn, New York.

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