This was a 3 weeks and 2 days drawing, which makes 17 days of 3 hours each.
We don't work on weekends.
There is little, and too much, to say about progression, aside from the fact that it is changing one step at a time- sometimes a little more obviously, other times less. Each step hopefully moving closer towards the impression of this pixie girl standing before me. A friend of mine asks if there is such a thing as real change, or only a constant becoming?
When does a drawing begin to feel 3 dimensional, or will it always be confined to its physical frame? How do we create life from graphite and paper?
The curious thing for me is reviewing this archived progression, and watching my own twist-and-turns as I drew. It feels like reading code, or watching game-decisions that are contingent and tactile, I can see how I was thinking and what questions I was asking myself; how I was playing with light and material.
In my case, the finishing took the bulk of the time- I stared longer at the model and my drawing, more than drawing itself; there was, in fact, less and less to draw. Between day 11 and 17, the changes are significant, yet actual drawing was very little. It is interesting to think that the momentous changes in this drawing came not at the start, when the charcoal first hit the paper, but rather when I ended the drawing. It could have ended on day 11, instead it ended on day 17. Imagine what it would be on day 23? Or 29? Or 35?
Yet, what is finish? When does one know that one has finished a drawing when one gets to choose when to put down the pencil?
She turns away
Nitram Charcoal on Roman Paper, 2013