Image of the Week: Charcoal Figure Drawings
© Durga Yael Bernhard
Last month I sorted through piles of old artwork in preparation for the annual art studio tour. Out of a dusty corner came a roll of life-size charcoal figure drawings that date back to the early 1970s. They were crumpled and dirty – yet even after decades, still familiar. I tacked them to my garage door and my daughter took photographs. I removed the stains and creases in Photoshop. Six of these drawings are shown here.
What a catharsis, to revisit these relics from my late teens and early twenties! They came from a figure drawing class that I took at the Art Students' League of New York, where I studied life drawing and printmaking for several years.
The life drawing class was one of the most popular classes at the League. I remember it clearly: each easel was extended to its maximum capacity, holding a 6-foot-high masonite board. A paper roll was clipped to the top of the board and allowed to drop and unroll to the floor. We would slice off the roll by our feet, and with charcoal in hand, face a blank page large enough to draw life-size figures.
There's nothing like compressed charcoal. It has a satisfying boldness and density which slightly resists the paper and creates a feeling of traction as it moves. Here I experienced drawing as motion . . . the rising swell of a shoulder . . . the descending arc of a leg. Compressed charcoal is also responsive to pressure and blending; a well-placed smear would turn a plain outline into the edge of a form. I didn't know it at the time, but I would grapple with how to handle outlines for many years to come.
In a way, the human figure teaches itself. We artists, after all, are human bodies. As people drawing people, all we have to do is practice. To draw each body part was fairly easy; to bring each part into proportional relation to all the other parts is the real challenge of figure drawing.
Having access to live models was a precious opportunity which I have seldom had since. As I drew in silence, I wondered about the living, breathing bodies before me. Our models were students of opera and ballet; waitresses and cashiers seeking extra income; an occasional office worker from the League itself – and more than once, middle-aged men who seemed desperate for work. These bare-skinned strangers held their poses with dignity, even as I sensed their suffering just beneath the skin.
The oneness of all people is revealed in figure drawing, as we all have the same anatomy, and the same limbs that fall asleep when we hold still for too long. Yet clearly, every body is unique, and I came to appreciate the parade of individuals before me. I even did some modeling myself, so that I could experience what I was drawing. It helped pay for art supplies, too.
A good week to all!
D Yael Bernhard