![\"Pedro](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/fredhatt.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/09\/fredhatt-2013-pedro-qp-6.jpg\")
<\/a>Pedro Reaching, 2013, by Fred Hatt<\/p><\/div>\n
Quick poses are the very essence of life drawing practice. The word “quick” originally means simply “alive” as in the quick of the fingernails or the phrase about judging “the quick and the dead<\/a>” from the Apostles’ Creed. Abruptness and rapidity are the qualities that exemplify aliveness. So life drawing is quick drawing, and capturing the life force of the subject is done only with speedy, efficient marks. When a model holds a pose for a period of time, the energy and intensity, inevitably, gradually drain from the pose. Capturing the energy depends on immediate response and a complete lack of hesitation or dithering, even in cases where the artist has hours to study the model. In this post I’ll share some recent speedy sketches made sometimes under difficult conditions.<\/p>\n Classical academic drawing techniques, like those taught in Bargue and G\u00e9r\u00f4me’s Cours de dessin<\/em><\/a>\u00a0are analytical and methodical. They provide ways to achieve rigorous observation and accurate rendering of objects and figures. These techniques, though, are quite useless in capturing a pose a model can only hold for a brief interval, and they do nothing to teach an artist to work with flow and rhythm to get the feeling of energy and liveliness into the work.<\/p>\n When the drawing has to be quick, I prefer an approach in which the marking is a direct response to the act of perception. A glance of the eyes picks up the curve of an arm, for instance, and within a fraction of a second the hand holding the pen or brush or charcoal is imitating that curve. The eye falls upon the subject and the marker lands upon the page, cascading with a swerving dash that closely follows the swoop of seeing. The resulting sketches are rough and highly approximate in proportion, but they are lively and full of verve.<\/p>\n Magic quick poses 1, 2013, by Fred Hatt<\/p><\/div>\n Since May of this year, Minerva Durham, the founder and director of NYC’s 7-days-a-week figure drawing center, Spring Studio, has been holding outdoor life drawing sessions with clothed models in Petrosino Square, just around the corner from the studio, in protest of an art installation area in the park being converted to a corporate-branded bike sharing station. I made these drawings in the park with a great dancer\/model called Magic, in a session shown in this video<\/a>. I think these are one minute poses.<\/p>\n Magic quick poses 2, 2013, by Fred Hatt<\/p><\/div>\n It was cold, the wind was blowing the paper, and my pen was running out of ink, but I was trying to capture the energy of Magic’s poses with rapid marks. I tried using a fine-point sharpie (above) and a brush and black gouache paint, without any water to smooth the application (below).<\/p>\n I try to simplify what I see into directions and angles, but always keeping an eye on full shapes, never just lines. I don’t worry about the finished product, just the immediate process of transforming perceptions into marks.<\/p>\n Magic quick poses 3, 2013, by Fred Hatt<\/p><\/div>\n In July, at the Sirius Rising<\/a> festival in Chautauqua County, New York, I attended a life drawing class led by Bellavia<\/a>, the artist whose sculpture was featured in this recent post<\/a>. The workshop was held in an open-sided pavilion and, as with the Petrosino Square session, there was a constant struggle to hold the drawing paper flat in the gusty wind.<\/p>\n Snoo quick poses 4, 2013, by Fred Hatt<\/p><\/div>\n To encourage the artists to let go of tentativeness and draw boldly, Bellavia had the model do a lot of ten and fifteen second poses, and encouraged the artists to draw with the flat edge, not the point, of the charcoal. Any hesitation at all would make it impossible to draw anything. I practice quick drawing a lot, but usually the quickest poses I draw are one or two minutes. Ten seconds is just a blip in drawing time! Some of the drawings from that session have an almost cubist abstraction<\/a>.<\/p>\n Snoo quick poses 7, 2013, by Fred Hatt<\/p><\/div>\n Last May, the ADaPT (A Dance and Physical Theater) Festival<\/a>, based in California, came to my neighborhood in Brooklyn, with performances at CPR (Center for Performance Research)<\/a>. Festival director, dancer and artist Misa Kelly<\/a>\u00a0asked me to help organize a life drawing session in the performance space preceding the dance performances<\/a>, an event described in this blog post<\/a>. The models were Misa and Nushka. Since we were working in the very large performing space at the center, I took the opportunity to work in a large scale. I had five sheets of 38″ x 50″ (97 x 132 cm) paper, using one for each 20-30 minute drawing segment, drawing flat on the floor with brushes and sumi ink. I planned the session in correspondence with Misa and monitored (supervised and timed) the session, with a selection of invited artists<\/a> drawing.<\/p>\n The first set was ten one-minute poses, three three-minute poses and one five minute pose. Of course when there are two models and you try to draw both of them, one minute is just thirty seconds per pose!<\/p>\n Adapt Festival 1, 2013, by Fred Hatt<\/p><\/div>\n The second set consisted of two five-minute poses and an eight-minute pose,<\/p>\n Adapt Festival 2, 2013, by Fred Hatt<\/p><\/div>\n followed by four three-minute “moving poses”, in which the models performed a simple movement phrase repeatedly for three minutes. This was real movement drawing – the eye had to take in a shape and then draw it from memory, because even a second later, the body position had already changed.<\/p>\n Adapt Festival 3, 2013, by Fred Hatt<\/p><\/div>\n Then there was an eighteen minute pose (the back-to-back pose at the top of the drawing below), and then ten one-minute and five two-minute poses, on the lower part of the drawing below and the one below that.<\/p>\n Adapt Festival 4, 2013, by Fred Hatt<\/p><\/div>\n Working with very quick poses or models in motion, I like to use a brush and ink. The brush flows with less friction than dry sticks and there’s no time to fiddle around with re-assessing and correcting things anyway, so there’s no reason not to use an indelible medium. As in the asian art of calligraphy<\/a>, the essence of the act is completely in the moment, in the freedom and intuitive engagement of the slippery brush.<\/p>\n Adapt Festival 5, 2013, by Fred Hatt<\/p><\/div>\n In the ancient Latin philosophical poem De rerum natura<\/em> (“On the Nature of Things”), Lucretius proposes an atomic theory of the universe in which unpredictable deviations (swerves, or “clinamen<\/a>“) in the motion of particles cause convergences and separations that give rise to the living physical universe, and allow for the existence of free will. Clinamen is basically what contemporary scientists would describe as quantum indeterminacy<\/a>. Lucretius says:<\/p>\n When atoms move straight down through the void by their own weight, they deflect a bit in space at a quite uncertain time and in uncertain places, just enough that you could say that their motion has changed. But if they were not in the habit of swerving, they would all fall straight down through the depths of the void, like drops of rain, and no collision would occur, nor would any blow be produced among the atoms. In that case, nature would never have produced anything.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n Marisol quick poses 1, 2013, by Fred Hatt<\/p><\/div>\n The “swerve” of the drawn line is what makes it expressive, and what makes it a recognizable analog of the subject being depicted. Physics may involve a lot of straight lines, but biology is all curves. To study biological forms through drawing is to work with curves in all their varieties.<\/p>\n<\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a>