Quite a few years ago
I was working with my creative process group, a group designed to use art to explore perception, just like this newsletter. We were practicing contour line drawing, and we decided to take turns being the model. It was intriguing to experience being seen and then seeing closely in turn. I rang my singing bell to begin the period of stillness for the model as the artists would reach for their pencils.
One of the women brought her 5 year old niece to the group. I wondered if the presence of a child would be disruptive, but it was not, and the child proved capable of surprising concentration. In fact, she wanted to model. I asked the child to stay very still, for as long as she could hear the tone of the singing bell. I imagined that might give us a few minutes with her, a bright eyed little jewel of a girl who radiated curiosity. Cooperatively, and with a serious expression, the child tilted her head and listened to the bell’s long, slowly diminishing sound. Still, still she was until long after the bell went silent. She held her pose as we all followed the contours of her body with our eyes and pencils. After several minutes, I asked, Can you still hear the sound? Yes, she said, I can still hear it. Several more minutes followed. This would be a long pose. Can you still hear it? I asked again. Yes, she said, I can still hear it. Still? Yes. Still? And so it went.
How beautiful it was to watch this child hear the silence.
Really looking at someone
It’s not often that we have permission to really look at someone. It is considered rude to stare, even though we might want to. People watching in outdoor cafes is acceptable, but if the watcher catches the eye of the watched, it is usually awkward.
With life drawing, we have permission. We try to peer into the mystery of the person, into their awareness, really, by gazing at their external form. As artists we extract the essential lines. We are less voyeurs then we are hungry to take in the beauty of the body. What does the body say about the soul it houses? The gestures of the body, the way it takes the pose, the expression on the face; there is something much more interior that we can peer into as we peer at the external form. We are trying to capture what it is to be human by seeing what it looks like to be human.
We crave being seen. When we are in love, we say that we are seeing someone. Each person wants to be understood, almost more than they want to be loved; and love is only valuable if it includes being understood. The desire to be known is very deep. It can be tinged with fear; the fear of judgement. If our body is seen, are we known? Think of that first shy moment when you disrobe for a lover. What we don’t want is to be objectified. We are violated when we are only as an exterior, especially when the perceiver is mapping on to us a meaning of his or her own. The notion of sex object is really this-one is alienated as an interiority by the perceiver who uses our appearance for their own purpose.
In the context of therapy, I try to help people see the meanings that they map onto to the others in their lives. A study of the archetypes is helpful here. What is the difference between the archetype of the nurturer and your own particular mother, a person with a history? What is the difference between the archetype of the knight in shining armor and your own particular spouse? Notice these differences and ask yourself if you are holding that person accountable for not measuring up to the archetype. Can you love the finite person? If it is hard to do, what is in the way?
In dream interpretation it is sometimes said that every character in the dream is actually an aspect of the dreamer. The conflicts between the dream characters are actually intra psychic conflicts played out in the dream story. Is it possible that our projections onto the people in our lives are ways of living a dream? Why do the mystics speak of ‘waking up’ and how would internalizing your projections support this process?
I often wonder what the artist is trying to do. Is their effort an effort to convey, or to see? To what degree we penetrate the mystery of a person through art? Perhaps, as you peer at the figure, especially one you do not know, you can also peer into your own projections.
Exercise
Contour line drawing was designed by Kimon Nicolaides in the early 1900’s. He described the practice in his book, The Natural Way to Draw which was published in 1941. The exercise has become widely used in teaching, though Nicolaides is rarely cited. Clearly it was his gift as an artist and teacher that allowed him to develop this exercise, so I want to honor him here. I think it is best to quote directly from his book.
Sit close to the model or object which you intend to draw and lean forward in your chair. Focus you eyes on some point-any point will do-along the contour of the model. (The contour approximates what is usually spoken of as the outline or edge.) Place the point of your pencil on the paper. Imagine that your pencil point is touching the model instead of the paper. Without taking your eyes off the model, wait until you are convinced that the pencil is touching that point on the model upon which your eyes are fastened.
Then move your eye slowly along the contour of the model and move the pencil slowly along the paper. As you do this, keep the conviction that the pencil point is actually touching the contour. Be guided more by the sense of touch than by sight. This means that you must draw without looking at the paper, continuously looking at the model.
Exactly coordinate the pencil with the eye. Your eye may be tempted at first to move faster than your pencil, but do not let it get ahead. Consider only the point that you are working on at the moment without regard for any other part of the figure.
Inquiry, an imaginary dialogue
Teacher: Why do you want to draw?
Student: I don’t want to draw, I want to see.
Teacher: What does drawing have to do with seeing?
Student: It slows down the eye. The eye slows the mind. It is the pace of meditation.
Teacher: What do the lines you make on the paper have to do with meditating?
Student: It is the miracle of appearing. A form rises before your eye, from you hand. it is like a fish leaping from the water, or a thought rising from the Void.
Teacher: Why do you need drawing? You can just look at your subject.
Student: I don’t need it, but the drawing slows my mind to the pace of prayer.
Practice
Take some time, perhaps as you drink your morning coffee, to practice contour line drawing. Follow Nicolaides’ instructions and let your process be meditative. What is it like to really look: really see? When you look with your ordinary mind, are you missing something? Sometimes my looking is connected to my purpose in action. I am reaching for my cup, or watering my plant. To stop and see is a different experience altogether. You can practice in your imagination even if you don’t lift a pencil.
Thank you for this lovely piece, Leslie. It resonates with a conversation I had yesterday. I was asking two friends whether figure drawing is inherently objectifying— not in a sexual way, but in the literal sense of mentally turning a body into an object in order to render it on a page. In the end, we came to a similar conclusion to yours: somehow when we simply draw what we see, we are also putting some soul or core expression of humanity onto the page. As you phrased it very beautifully here, “there is something much more interior that we can peer into as we peer at the external form. We are trying to capture what it is to be human by seeing what it looks like to be human.”
Thanks as always for this newsletter. Reading it always leaves me feeling both centered and inspired.