ANCIENT SCRIBBLERS

“WAVE ACTION” Handmade paper by kayti sweetland rasmussen

Drawing is a primal urge. Caveman depicted what he saw by drawing on rock walls. Children, from the earliest years, draw on anything made of paper, but drawing only became a standard art form when paper became available. At the beginning, paper was of poor quality and expensive, and parchment was too difficult to erase. You couldn’t dash off a quick sketch and it had too low a standard to use for serious art. But by the the 15th century, paper quality had improved to the point of opening the possibility of the sketch.

Renaissance artists sketched out their work before they drew, painted or sculpted it. This new ability to plan and toy with an idea raised their art to a new level not known before the Middle Ages.

Just as today, artists came with varying degrees of skill. Leonardo da Vinci was legendary for his skills as a draftsman. Michelangelo was equally brilliant, and many art historians consider him to have been the greatest draftsman who ever lived—though most of his drawing was scribbled chaotically on sheets of paper not intended for public view. The story is told of a sketch by Michelangelo that was displayed in the Palazzo de Medici for art students to copy. Since the sheet, like most of Michelangelo’s sheets, had a variety of sketches on it, students started tearing off pieces of it and they became scattered over many places. Those fortunate students who ended up with a remnant, treasured it.

Michelangelo used a great deal of paper–and almost any piece of paper he used contained a great many sketches. Only a few are finished drawings. A stunning drawing of the resurrection of Christ is also marked with a shopping list. Masterful drawings were folded up with notes of his neighbors comings and goings on the other side. Michelangelo may have been the first to jot down ideas for himself. Letter writing is another practice that blossomed with the widespread use of paper.

Leonardo was notorious in his lifetime for his inability to finish projects. Fortunately there was paper to capture his genius. Though he is usually thought of as a painter, only fifteen paintings, some unfinished, have been found, along with two damaged murals. He also attempted some sculpture, though he never finished one piece. But he left behind thirty bound notebooks. Unlike Michelangelo, he did want people to see this work on paper, including the notes he made in his mirror-image script a curious response to being left-handed. He left drawings depicting all kinds of inventions, and notes on literature, arts, mythology, anatomy, engineering, and more of all nature.

Leonardo also left behind four thousand sheets of drawings of staggering beauty. He was the first artist to be recognized for his drawings on paper. Leonardo’s work became the standard for art in Renaissance Florence. Studying art now meant working on paper, learning to draw. Leonardo had learned art that way himself, in the workshop taught by Andrea del Verrocchio. Artists have been trained on paper ever since.

A BIRD IN A CAGE

Many years ago, before I discovered a classier way to earn some extra Christmas money, I painted signs and Santa Clauses on store windows.  It was seasonal of course, and on the first of December, your hands froze on the glass windows, but lots of people stopped and passed the time of day with me, and you’ll have to admit, it was easy and fun.

One morning a woman stood watching me and then said she was writing a children’s book and wondered if I was interested in illustrating it.  Wow! would I!

The story was about a little Eskimo boy named Nootka of the North.  (Not too original,but it could always be changed.)

Her parents had been missionaries in Barrow, Alaska, and she brought old photo albums of their life to our house that evening.  It looked like the main excitement of their village was being tossed high into the air off a sealskin blanket, or perhaps a share in a little seal meat if the hunters got lucky.

I returned the albums to her a few days later after making a few drawings I thought she might like.  She lived  on a boat in the Redwood City marina, which was just across the bridge.  When I found her small boat, nearly hidden among larger and more posh ones, she called out to “come aboard”!

As soon as I stepped into the small cabin, a loud voice shouted “Fuck you!  Go home!”  There in the middle of the cabin sat a very large cage containing the largest and ugliest parrot I had ever seen.  She told me she had bought him from a bartender in Anchorage, Alaska, and since she lived alone, he was her “watch bird”.  It made a lot of sense, but I asked her if she would kindly cover him with a blanket while I was there, since he so obviously did not like me.

I made another couple of visits to her when the book got going, and we were both filled with hope that she could sell it to a publisher.

Time went by, and it became apparent that the book was going nowhere, so I thanked her very much for the opportunity.  The only payment I got was a few glasses of cheap wine, and the chance to be abused by a very loathsome  parrot.  But hey, it’s a great memory!

PEOPLE WATCHING

As an artist, I am a people watcher.  I may not remember your name, but I will always remember your face.  I remember a woman I never met who was sitting on the  front steps of an apartment building ten years ago.  She was a black woman wearing a bright dashiki and a colorful scarf around her head.  I longed to paint her, but I was caught in  traffic, and late for an appointment.  Her expression while watching the traffic going by her apartment building was sad, and I imagined various  reasons for her pensive gaze.

There are numerous faces which often flit through my mind.  I watch and mentally sketch the contours of their faces and bodies, or draw them in air or on the tale with a finger.  Sometimes  I form the images of faces in the patterns which pop up in carpets or even floors.  Crazy.  Even crazier is when I try to find them again the next day, and they have gone.

This morning in Starbuck’s while waiting in line for morning coffee, I studied the people around me.  There was the man from Lebanon who learns English by working the crossword puzzles.  He is there whenever we go in.  A row of people working on their Apple computers were lined up against one wall.   A table of three 10-11 year old girls were giggling away with their large sized whipped cream fancies.  Mean-spirited as I am and as a former teacher, I wondered why they weren’t in school!  (And as a frugal mother, I wondered where they got all that money!)

There were the old couple in the corner on the soft chairs reading the New York Times.  And just where did all these very tall, very thin and knock out beautiful girls in tight designer jeans and  boots with skyscraper heels come from?  Busy people, rushing to get to work, flash in and out with their mid-morning caffeine fix,  while a couple,  obviously not married, were chatting it up.  He, perhaps in a mid-life crisis, leaning too hopefully toward her while she, half his age,was looking a bit doubtful about the whole thing.

A microcosm of coffee shop life, repeating itself daily, and always fascinating to a people watcher.  Where do they go, what is their job, what are their problems, what is their life?

Then suddenly, it was my turn at the counter and the barista knows well what my order will be:  a vente caramel latte, whole milk, extra whipped cream and extra caramel on top.    Oh, and a tall coffee for Dr. Advice.