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I often tell students that their challenge as a realistic oil painter is to make something look 3-dimensional on a 2-dimensional surface.  In other words, we have to learn to represent form. However, recently I've began to think this is a gross oversimplification of the reality when it comes to creating art.

Technically, an oil painting is 3-dimensional regardless of its "flatness"; even paint layers have some depth along with their height and width. Technicality aside, though, it simplifies things to think of our painting surface as having only two dimensions for the most part and I don't want to derail myself before I get started, so please allow me to divert my discussion a little to get to my thoughts.

We live in a 3-dimensional world (not really, perhaps, but let's start there).  We can think of our 3-dimensions as coordinates or planes perhaps with x and y representing side to side and front to back. Think of it this way, imagine yourself to be standing right at the intersection of those three lines shown above.  Anything to your left could be represented with negative y values and to your with positive y values.  Anything behind you could be represented with negative x values and anything in front of you with positive x values.  These two axes represent two dimensions, width and depth leaving the z line to represent the third dimension of  height (or lack thereof). That is to say anything above you could be represented with positive z values and anything below negative.  

If you feel your mind starting to glaze over, bear with me for just a little bit longer, your geometry refresher is about to come to an end. To put things simply, in our three dimensional world, our location anywhere can be defined by our x,y,z coordinates relative to some zero point. The zero point is not germane to my thoughts on this matter, so forget I even brought it up.

Suffice it to say, we can refer to any location as our "xyz". If I am standing in front of the mirror in the morning brushing my teeth, that is a certain "xyz".  If I go into my greenhouse to check on my plants, my "xyz" has changed to some other set of coordinates. If I hike to a lake, you guessed it, a different "xyz", not to mention, my "xyz", was changing constantly the whole way to the lake.

If I paint that "xyz" and capture it on canvas, I now have two "xyz"s - the "xyz" of the lake recorded on canvas which has its own "xyz" whether it's hung on my studio wall or on your wall.  The "xyz" of the canvas can change, but the "xyz" represented on it in oil never will.

If you're with me to this point, congratulations! This is where things get more interesting. The other night we watched a movie on Netflix starring Tom Hanks that I hadn't heard of before; it's called "Here" and while I personally don't think this was one of Tom Hanks best acting roles, the concept of the movie is super interesting to me.

This movie is all about the 4th dimension, time. It's really a unique movie concept depicting something I have thought about for a long time. Let me try to explain. Your particular "xyz" is only meaningful as it relates to time. If we add time as a fourth coordinate we can describe where we are at a particular time "xyzt".  If we keep all the "xyz" coordinates steady but change the "t", then everything is different.  For instance, if you take where you are sitting or standing at this very moment and  change the time "t" by one hundred years, what would be there?  In my case, this exact spot "xyz" in my computer chair one hundred years ago would just be sage brush and I wouldn't be here.  In one hundred years from now, who knows what will be here, but I assuredly won't.  (I don't even have to project that far into the future, in an hour or less, this chair that approximates body temperature currently will be stone cold and empty). My "xyz" will be on a walk with my wife and our dogs.  The movie "Here" depicts ongoing events at the same location at drastically different times.  It isn't linear either; it jumps back and forth a lot to tell the stories which is probably good as it forces you to pay attention.  I recommend it.  It's on Netflix right now if you haven't seen it, it's worth the watch.

So how does this relate to art? Well, in particular relative to a landscape painting, I can return to an "xyz" at a different time "t" and it will be different.

The first reference photo shown at the beginning of this post was shot early morning, early spring whereas the shot shown here was shot late afternoon, late fall but at the same "xyz". The fourth dimension of time changes things dramatically!  Likewise, my recording of the two different "t"s of the same "xyz" in paint yield two markedly different results. (Shown below.)

There are a couple of reasons for the differences beyond just the fact that one is Spring, the other Fall. One is that the second one was painted 5 years after the first. My skills changed (for better or worse) over that time with a slight evolution of style as a result. But the second reason is what I consider the fifth dimension, emotion.

It's this fifth dimension that I believe to be at the heart of the truest, most genuine (and dare I suggest great) art. Our emotions are constantly changing but if an artist is successful, he or she records it and it's as permanent as the painting is.  In the springtime, I tend to be more optimistic and hopeful.  The world is waking up, life is burgeoning, everything is magically wondrous to me.  In the fall, I tend to be more nostalgic and contemplative  as the lower angle of the sun tends to make me feel. My attention is more easily focused, I gravitate toward warmth as everything seems to be cooling and receding in anticipation of winter.  So, scene one has a particular "xyzt" and because of both the "xyz" and the "t", I'm filled with a particular emotion "e".  Scene two has the same "xyz" but a different "xyzt" because of the different time "t".  And because of the differences in the "t"s, I have different emotions "e" and these differences get recorded accordingly.  

Over time, irrespective of the subject matter, I have come to believe that it is the "e" dimension of my paintings that speak to the collectors and followers of my work.  And I'm pretty convinced that the "e" dimension is the one that can fluctuate in a painting defined by "xyzte".  Whether my particular feelings "e" get recorded and are shared by the viewer or those feelings merely evoke other feelings in the viewer is an entirely different subject, but the fact of the matter is emotion "e" is evoked.

And so, I try to take the time to feel when I paint. What about this is beautiful?  What is good?  Or ominous or futile for that matter?  Why am I painting this?  What "e" am I experiencing?  Why does it matter (or not matter)? How can I represent that in its truest sense? What is being evoked?

I believe just taking time to contemplate questions such as these makes for not only better painting and better living in general.  I thank you for coming with me on this mental journey; I fear somehow I haven't been able to communicate this as good as it could have been communicated but hopefully I have given food for thought.  Please feel free to comment on this post, add your thoughts on the subject or ask for clarification (I'll give it if I can).  All my best,

Mike Callahan 

I planted a cherry tree in my yard about 8 or 10 years ago. The most cherries I ever got from it before this year was 11...that's 11 cherries, not 11 pounds! Without fail, the Spanish Springs microclimate would give me freezing weather and high winds right about blossom time.

This year, however, we actually got some "normal", mild Spring weather and all the blossoms remained intact and produced fruit...72lbs of it!

If you're wondering how long it takes to harvest 72 lbs of cherries (how long it took me anyway), the answer is about 5 hours (maybe more, Roben helped with the lower fruit).  Anyway, with all that time spent amongst the cherries, I had a while to think, letting my mind wander back to the time I was 4 and a cherry memory from which I would ultimately figure out a life lesson that has served me well when I let it... I call it The Cherry Pie Principle...

When I was four years old, I accompanied my mother and grandparents to the newly opened K-Mart near my grandparents' home. I'm guessing my mother and grandmother were the only ones interested in the blue light specials and other generally cheap wares K-Mart was famous for as they quickly disappeared into the sea of shopping opportunities leaving my grandfather the duty of looking after me.  Old Grandad wasn't too thrilled with his task, it seemed and I don't think he had much of an idea of what to do with me, but it didn't take to long for him to suggest we go to the in-store cafeteria and get some pie.

At the counter, he asked me what kind of pie I liked and he proceeded to list off a few choices...pumpkin, lemon meringue , blueberry, cherry...

"Cherry," I quickly said, hands down my favorite!  Still is as attested to by my having planted a cherry tree in my yard!

With pie slices (and a cup of Joe for Grandad), we sat down at a small table.  Grandad took a sip of coffee and began to read a newspaper.

"Uh, Grandad? Can I have a fork?" It seemed a rather large slice and there was no probability of such a small boy tackling it with just his bare hands.  I somehow knew if I made a mess things wouldn't end well.

"Sure," he said as he slid a fork my way and returned to his paper, coffee and pie.

K-Mart is known for a lot of thing, I'm sure, but one thing it was probably never known for was tender crust on its cherry pie. As I anticipated the delights of this huge piece of pie, I began to cut off a bite sized piece from the tip of the pie with the edge of my fork only to get stopped short by what seemed to be a piece of leather standing in for the crust. I started sawing back and forth  with fervency trying to get through it but to no avail.  I tried again sawing harder, but  again to no avail.  I didn't want to ask Grandad just yet because I could tell he wasn't interested in much other than his newspaper.  On top of that, his lemon meringue pie was being devoured with ease.

As I went for my third attempt at severing the pie crust, I noticed a couple of pretty ladies sitting at a table across the cafe seemingly snickering at me.  It might seem odd that a boy my age would categorize ladies as "pretty", but they were wearing lipstick, skirts, nylons and pumps (things ladies typically wore on shopping trips in those days, I'm sure), whereas my main frame of reference being my mother and grandmother who chose a much less sophisticated style for shopping...but I digress... The thought of two sophisticated, pretty ladies laughing at my futile attempts to get a bite of pie mortified me.  I did a double take.  Yep, they were definitely chuckling and pointing at me and my efforts.  I immediately put my fork down as I felt my face beginning to flush with embarrassment. I didn't dare make another go of it for fear of even greater humiliation.

After what seemed like an eternity, Grandad finished his pie, his coffee and his newspaper.  

"What's the matter, don't you want your pie?" he asked.

"No, I don't want it," I replied. 

I expected him to ask me why and then I'd tell him I couldn't cut it at which point I figured he'd say something like, "here, let me cut it for you," but he didn't.  He just looked at it and very nonchalantly said, "huh" picking it up and tossing it in the trash along with his empty plate and proceeded to shuffle out of the cafeteria with me following him.  

The pretty ladies continued eating whatever they were eating, continued chatting and payed no attention whatsoever to the kid who allowed himself to be deprived of what should have been the highlight of his trip to K-Mart.  I felt bewildered and perplexed.

At this point, you might think the lesson I eventually learned from this was to not be afraid to ask for help or to not worry about what other people think, and those are life lessons to be sure, but as I thought about this situation while picking cherries from my own tree, I realize, those "pretty ladies"  likely weren't laughing at me as I had supposed, they were probably delighted at sight of this cute little boy being so determined to get through that piece of pie.  So, for me, the real life lesson that I take from that incident all those years ago isn't don't let what others think (pretty or not) deprive you of something you take delight in, but rather don't let what you think others are thinking deprive you of anything!  

And with that, I'm going to go have a piece of cherry pie!

As you pursue excellence as a painter (and trust me, it’s a pursuit!) you will be faced with the decision as to whether or not you should tackle a particular painting or not.  The challenge may come from yourself.  You may want to try a substrate you have never painted on before, or a larger size than you have ever undertaken.  You may want to paint a more complex scene than you have ever done. The challenge may also come from another person. Perhaps a supportive spouse, a parent, sibling or friend. Perhaps it might be  a challenge of the highest stake - from a person who would like to commission you!

An example of an early challenge I gave myself - lots of trees, large, multi-day plein air...not one of my best pieces by a long shot!

When faced with painting challenges, I always bring to my mind a saying that I’m sure I’m paraphasing inadequately, but the gist is something like this: “an ordinary man shrinks from and avoids the challenge whereas the warrior embraces the challenge as a means to mastering it and future challenges thereby improving upon his abilities.”

My tip is to start with challenges you give yourself.  Have you been intimidated to try something because you don’t think you currently have the chops?  Maybe you don’t.  But then again, maybe you’ll surprise yourself.  What’s the worst that could happen?  Your painting ends up a dismal failure?  Let it dry and paint over it.  Regardless, you’ll have stretched yourself and learned a thing or two or three in the process!  In each “failure”, study what others more masterful have done and try to figure out how you could approach things differently in the future.  Then you would have learned something and grown putting yourself in a better position to accept the challenge that comes from the demanding patron who wants you to paint whatever it is they want you to paint.

I wiped my drawing efforts numerous times!         Teeth are always problematic for me!

A number of years ago when my dad was still living, he suggested I paint this portrait of my mother who passed away about 5 years prior. My initial reaction was I did not really want to do it because it was posthumous, from a snapshot, and she was smiling (she always smiled but smiles seem difficult and unnatural to me in the painted portrait). Bottom line, this was going to be very challenging to me and I wasn’t sure I would be able to pull it off. In other words, it was high-stakes. However, I brought to mind the saying.  I told myself if I was not the painter I wanted to be, this would be a step propelling me toward it, one way or another.

I embraced the challenge and as I approached the completion of the painting, I surprised myself! ...I captured the essence of my mother in this portrait. My dad loved that painting, he showed it off constantly and kept it near his chair in his living room till he died. It was a constant comfort to him and I cannot begin to describe how happy I was that I took that challenge.  

My ability to have succeeded in this instance however was always in question.  I may not have been successful had I avoided any number of previous challenges and only painted that which I was comfortable with.

I encourage you to do the same with your painting challenges and see how you rise to the occasion and your painting skills improve with each challenge taken!  Be a painting Ninja!

Looking back at 2022, I realize that I didn't paint too many paintings, but I produced a number that I am very happy with and proud to have painted.  

I continued to focus on my online school this past year.  The first five paintings are from my Advanced Techniques and Tactics Course . 

The 6th is the result of my discovery of a solid technique for painting nocturnes. The 7th and 8th are commissions, the 8th being one of the largest paintings I've painted (50"x62") and the 9th painting is another classic Tahoe piece, which I love to paint!

I didn't communicate with you as much as I hoped (I rarely do, unfortunately, as I struggle with what to share that will be of interest). Perhaps I will be able to change that a little in 2023!

I painted the small painting as a demo in one of my skyscape classes, and after realizing how much I liked that painting, I thought it would make a really cool larger painting but I felt it needed a little something else. It reminded me of a time when I got caught in a similar storm as a teenager while archery hunting in late September. (Somewhere around the time when the photo below was taken by my brother, Sean). The clouds came up so fast and I was on the top of a mountain. The aluminum arrows in my quiver began to hum. I immediately sat down and then proceeded to get dumped on by a massive amount of rain with lightning going off all around me. I felt like it would be appropriate to make some riders in this scene attempting to out run a similar fierce storm. 

From a time when I was "hunting" with my Super8 camera when I was a teenager.

If you are interested, you can watch a short video of my thought process and how this painting came together below:

You can see this painting on my website here: https://www.mikecallahanart.com/portfolio-viewer?collection=103172#lg=1&artworkId=5000798

Painting a nocturne is a challenging proposition for the oil painter who is used to painting realistically. The problem arises with the fact that things are dark at night and therefore making it virtually impossible to get usable reference. And even if you manage to get reference through long exposures or some other means, representing it in a painting that's meant to portray the night accurately would result in a painting with very little details.  It would necessarily need to be predominantly black or very nearly so.

So, the reality is, lighting and details in nocturnes aren't exactly natural.  However, successful nocturnes are believable because our minds imagine the moonlight to be much brighter than it could ever be (I think I read somewhere that moonlight is something like 20,000 times weaker than sunlight).  That reality aside, if we start with a reference with strong overhead lighting (like mid-day), and paint it with a darker sky and less contrast, we can trick the mind into substituting the sun with the moon since we tend to think of the moon as shining directly from the middle of the sky. Of course, we also have to create an overall bluish hue as we tend to think of nighttime as being cooler than daylight.  I've found a great way to do this is through the use of glazes (that's right, it's plural, glazes, usually more than one).  You can get an overview of how I do that by watching the short YouTube video below.

The full project is included in my Advanced Oil Painting Techniques and Tactics course, found here.

I also have the full project broken out of the course in case you're interested in the step-by-step project alone. It can be found here.



A complete listing of all the courses I currently have available can be found at simpleapproachoilpainting.com  

If you have ever been in my studio, you'll notice there aren't too many works of other artists on my walls. They are mostly all mine except for three. There are a few reasons for that you can imagine - I'm cheap, I'm egotistical, etc. which aren't necessarily untrue, but those are not the main reason. Believe it or not, it's mostly about inspiration.

That's right, in a round about way, I'm inspired by my own work. "Ah ha! I knew it! He is egotistical!" you think as you read this. I tend to think of it as being proud of my work, but that's not my point, so instead let me get to it.  As a 'self-taught', 'self-directed' artist, I have had to study many artists to figure out my craft. As such, I have also taken my inspiration from them.  When I see a great landscape painting by Clyde Aspevig, for instance and then I see a scene in great light I think, "I have to paint something like that, and I'd like to paint it like Aspevig would.  Or when I saw the great portraits of Sargent, I painted one of my wife as near as I could to how I discerned that Sargent would.

Lipking, Smith, Payne, Mitchell, Terpening and many, many other's have influenced and inspired me in one aspect or another along the way. I have a giant bookmark file of artists whose websites I regularly visit. So, in a small way, I have those artists hanging on my walls. So, when I have a successful painting (which by the way are the only ones I hang), some artist has contributed unknowingly to my success and not only am I grateful for them having shared their work with the world, I'm also inspired by that. I think that's one of the best ways to grow as an artist.

As a matter of fact, I've noticed other artists (mostly musicians) doing just that, engaging with artists whose discipline is a departure from their own. For instance, Jesse Cook (an amazing flamenco guitar player) engaging with zydeco musicians or Paul Simon when he made his Graceland album engaging with the African musicians. Not only was it a platform for artistic growth, they came away greatly inspired in a way that made their subsequent work even better!

One thing I noticed about these sorts of departures from their "norm" is that they seem to be a result of enormous amount of artistic freedom. Perhaps it's that they had reached a point of confidence in their abilities that they had the freedom to step outside their comfort zone in pursuit of the experience.  I kind of think that's it.

So, here's the gist, I have always been a little envious of musicians who do that.  It has always seemed hard to imagine how a visual artist could do something similar.  I mean, I have seen collaborative paintings (though rarely), but I haven't seen the same growth and synergy in the art of those involved.  Perhaps it's just me, but I doubt it, but most artists I know (especially me) wouldn't want a single brush stroke on their painting from someone else.  Paintings are solo works; music most often isn't.  There are no visual art equivalents to bands, so that sort of direct collaboration is pretty much out of the question.

However, I got to thinking about this when I recently visited the Nevada Museum of Art's Victorian Radical's Show.  It's gone now, so if you didn't see it, sorry, it was really great!  I was inspired by the Pre-Raphaelite's story telling in their art!  I was so impressed with so much of it, I found myself wishing to attempt something similar.  That's when it dawned on me, in the same way I had been inspired and had taken cues from the artists I admired, so could I do it with the Pre-Raphaelites.  Admittedly though, this would necessitate a great departure from my typical work.

Furthermore, there is a particular song that I heard in my teen years (and still hear today) that has always provoked a particular imagery in my mind's eye that seems to me would fit right in with my desire to paint like the Pre-Raphaelites.  It will be a huge departure for me but, I have a level of confidence to act with the level of freedom I had been envious of in the musicians I mentioned. So, stay tuned, I'm making a departure, experiencing a great deal of freedom doing so, looking forward to artistic growth and feel as though I'm collaborating with the Pre-Raphaelites themselves!

Great News!  I'm creating Art & Life episodes again and this one seems totally appropriate for publication on Halloween though that wasn't my intention.  

In this episode, I discuss my inspiration for one of my latest paintings entitled "A Raven's Call" and then I go into my second studio (my kitchen) and show you my latest creation there - Wild Boar Blood Orange Tacos.  You have to try them; they are AMAZING! I'll post the recipe below the video if you want to get straight to the goodness!

Recipe featured in video:

Wild Boar Blood Orange Tacos

Ingredients

1/2 lb. ground wild boar

4 blood oranges

1 tbsp balsamic glaze

1 tbsp. butter

1 cup diced sweet potato (uncooked)

6 cloves of garlic

1 tbsp olive oil

t tbsp mayo

1/2 cup chopped red pepper

1 chopped green onion

1/4 tsp chipotle powder

1/4 tsp smoked paprika

salt to taste

hatch green chile tortillas

grated cheddar cheese

arugula

In a small skillet, cook ground wild boar, set aside.  Juice 2 of the blood oranges, peel and divide the other 2 into sections and dice into 1/2" pieces (approximately).  In a small pan over medium high heat, boil the blood orange juice until reduced by 1/2, transfer to a cup and mix with the balsamic glaze, set aside.  In a small pan over medium high heat, melt butter and brown sweet potato pieces. Remove browned sweet potato pieces leaving as much butter as possible in the pan, set aside.  Press garlic into pan using a garlic press (alternatively, smash cloves with the side of a large kitchen knife and chop finely).  Stir constantly and add olive oil - do not let it burn!  Remove from pan and add mayo, set aside.  Mix ground wild boar, blood orange pieces, diced sweet potato pieces, green onion, chipotle powder, smoked paprika and salt. Heat tortillas, smear with garlic mayo, add a liberal amount of wild boar-blood orange filling, top with grated cheese, add a drizzle of blood orange-balsamic reduction and arugula.  Enjoy!  Pair with a quality cabernet!  You're welcome!

I wonder how many art jokes have been made of that idiom?  It’s kind of ironic when you think about it because in order to make a joke about it, you have to strip it of its idiomatic quality and assign literality to it. Nonetheless, I’m less than a hundred words into this post and I’m off into the weeds not having said anything meaningful really.

I guess what’s been on my mind lately relative to painting is how representational art, I mean really good representational art should say something.  There should be a narrative.  After all, art is a form of expression and I think it should convey more than just a pleasing set of color or an interesting texture.  I guess that’s why I’m not all that big a fan of abstract art. What does it say anyway?  Perhaps I’m looking at this with too narrow a lens, but that’s just me.  If you don’t agree, that’s ok. I digress once again.

I think the narrative is more easily seen in representational paintings – especially those with a human element.  We humans are the story tellers, after all.  When we see a figure in a painting we begin to imagine who this person could be, what they are thinking or doing or how it might feel to walk in their shoes or live in their era of time.  Paintings with a house, we imagine who might live there and what they might have been doing when the painting was made. A road, a fence, a car or a boat all give us pause to think about its relationship to the environment and the humans who had something to do with them. 

Paintings with animals, domestic or wild, tell a story pretty easily as well. They are living beings depicted on the canvas and we can easily imagine their circumstances. Coming, going, eating, sleeping, playing, fighting, etc.

“Ah, but what of the landscape?” you may ask, “where is the narrative there?” I would argue there is one. An old tree greeting the sun each morning as it rises over the eastern horizon, day after day, season after season. The rock formation or the mountain range there depicted.  How did it form?  What living things live in or around it?  The stream, from where does it spring and to where does it run?  The landscape can be evocative too, stirring within a sense of place.

Now, are these narrative thousand-word narratives?  Likely not. In reality, they are probably zero-word narratives.  You see, while I believe there’s a narrative behind a good representational painting, I don’t think it’s necessarily understood with so many words.  That’s why humans invented language and writing, to tell stories with literal precision.  The stories conveyed by representational art are seen and understood on a different level. A deeper and more universal level I maintain. The best kind of painting, I think, stirs the soul of the viewer and can bring tears to the eyes and joy to the heart. Meaning is not hard to draw from these sorts of paintings, but words often are.

I probably have yet to paint works such as I’ve been describing, but I have so striven and continue to.  There are many artists, both living and dead who have painted such masterful work with regularity.  I encourage you, to spend time immersing yourself in really great art and let the narrative of it speak to your soul.  In this day and age, it’s easier to do than ever. 

So, what’s to be done with the idiom?  If the narrative is told in a non-verbal way, where do the thousand words come in?  I guess that’s the beauty of words, we can say things that aren’t literal with them as easily as we can say things that are. We can even make a word like “idiom” to describe it!  Here’s my suggestion: so far, my word processor tells me I’ve written less than a thousand words (less than 680) to this point. So, however long it’s taken you to read this, a thousand words would have taken you a bit longer.  I suggest that you take a similar amount of time looking at one really great painting. And I don’t mean blankly staring, but looking at the narrative, what’s it about and how the artist masterfully conveyed it through his brushstrokes and choice of color and composition. Let it soak into the fiber of your being a bit and enjoy it!  Art really does make life better, and in less than a thousand words, how marvelous is that?

If you read this article all the way through, you should congratulate yourself for you will be in a minority who actually do so. You will have invested about 5-8 minutes of your attention and most people only invest between 30 seconds to 2 minutes on anything whether it be print or video. 

Mind you, I’m not passing judgement on how much attention a person chooses to give to anything; I’m the same way.  However, I maintain, at least in my case it isn’t so much a choice but an affliction. As a society, we have allowed ourselves to have been programmed that way.  

There is so much vying for our attention we are forced to jump from one thing to another in rapid succession.  Who knows where it all began, but perhaps it started with cinema.  Movie makers quickly figured out changing camera angles every three to ten seconds provided such a more interesting experience than a sustained, static scene that the viewer had experienced in the theater. From there, TV, shorter shows interlaced with advertisements. Then the computer, the internet, social media – the “news” feed. Look at this meme, read this headline (no time for the article, just the gist), oh, a cute puppy, a political outrage, a sports score, wait, was that a kitten?  Make sure to turn on notifications!  Now check multiple social media sites without even having to log-in – a handheld device that we somehow still refer to as a phone beeps, squeaks or vibrates to tell us something or someone wants our attention. (Funny thing, while writing this I took a break to use the restroom and yes, I found myself looking at a few notifications on my phone – ridiculous!)

So, what does the practice of drawing have to do with any of this?  Well, if you think our self-imposed attention deficits are a problem as I do, then starting a practice of drawing can help you with that among other things. Stick with me for the rest of this article and you’ll see numerous benefits. 

There was a time past when drawing was a part of school curriculum.  Everyone was taught to draw and with good reason.

In order to draw, you must look and see.  The practice of drawing requires one to develop the skill of sustained attention (yes, it’s a skill!) You must look at your subject to discern how to draw it. You must look in a systematic way observing its outline, its form, its relationship to its environment (perspective). You must observe light and shadow and the interplay of light and dark (value). These observations cannot be made rapid fire. You observe, lightly sketch, observe again, correct your mark, map out shadows, mid-tones, highlights, check their placement, correct, draw more detail a little at a time until you have a drawing.  And while you can easily make a quick sketch in two minutes, it’s doubtful you could do a detailed, complete drawing in such a short time. Then again, why would you want to?  We are trying to regain our skill of focus and sustained attention.

It’s not just my opinion that drawing can do this for you. It’s my experience.  There are also a great number of scientific educational studies that show this to be true as well (go ahead and search it out on the internet, Google will provide you with them in less than .7 seconds!)

Enough of that, before my little rant becomes a tirade!  Drawing has many other benefits to which I’ll commit the rest of this article.

As I have already alluded, drawing helps develop the skill of seeing.  It helps us think in a non-verbal way through noticing and observing. It helps us understand parts of a whole and even parts of the part.

Drawing is good for your brain.  It actually increases creativity and increases intuition.  The human brain likes to create, and the activity of drawing has been shown to increase synapses to the brain’s neurotransmitters (meaning life experiences get stored as more vivid memories that are easier to access). Drawing has been shown to produce positive brain chemistry that calms and relieves depression and anxiety.  Yes, drawing makes us happy!

Drawing is not only good for the brain, it helps us physically as well.  It improves hand-eye coordination. Drawing will help us with other endeavors like painting and sculpture as well as a number of hand-eye related skills.

Drawing is good for our character too!  It reveals our weakness in a low stakes way and gives us the freedom to discover how to strengthen them. It teaches us that direct observation is far superior to presupposition.  Of all that’s been written about success and personal development, one factor I see over and over is the character trait of focus.  Focus is necessary for success in just about anything we do in life. Drawing can help us regain our ability to focus that today’s rapid-fire imagery has so weakened.  

Drawing helps develop critical thinking and problem-solving skills.

Drawing lets us express ourselves as individuals.  Like handwriting, no two people draw exactly the same as there is an expressive element involved once a certain level of skill is attained.  Drawing helps us be us!

So, I want to challenge you, get a sketchpad and a pencil and start drawing!  It will help you see your world with greater awareness, improving the dexterity of your hand and your mind!