In 2010, I commit myself to the fine art of drawing a Grizzly Bear. Ursula Horribilis is, in this case, an 850 pound female grizzly. My favorite approach to drawing wildlife is to wander into the woods, find a likely subject and ask, politely, for permission to draw. When permission is granted, I snap a few photos for reference and doodle in my sketch book for a while.
In most cases this works pretty well. In this particular case I told the bear that my mother was called Claire Marie Ursula “Little Bear” Sullivan. The result was the treat of watching from a respectful distance while Griz daintily devoured a several hundred pound elk. After her meal she cleaned up and carefully cached the remains of her meal for a future snack. I took about 120 reference photos as late afternoon was transformed into night. That's how this drawing began during a 2009 summer sunset in the ever lovely Grand Tetons National Park.
Back in my studio, I sorted through my images and printed several likely candidates. I taped these photos to the wall and for about three months contemplated my favorites until I finally settled on the most likely candidate. Now begins the transformation from the click of a shutter, a mere 1/120th of a second one evening back in August, to the drawing my subconscious has been working on for the past few months.
The bear is beautiful, natural, graceful, dynamic, and powerful. My first composition dilemna is about her position in the drawing. I have placed her left of center. As you hike through the willow bunches on the plain that fronts the Tetons, you sense a hint of surprise. You first see the willows and then the bear. Oh, a BEAR! She is everything a wilderness bear should be - wild and shy, powerful and dominant. She stands in front of the willows where she could disappear in a heartbeat.
My second compositional element concerns the environment. These willows are tall, probably 12 to 15 feet in height. Wind bends their slender stalks toward the bear. Waves of wind push branches forming patterns of light and dark against a growing night. The bear’s fur is backlit forming a contrast against darkening willows. She sniffs the wind and her lip curls. The fence in front of her has been knocked down. The rails lie parallel to her position. She could easily step over them. If she does, well…
My first hour of sketching is concentrated on creating the composition. The bear is the focal point. The patterns of the willows are the most challenging element of the composition. They must suggest movement without being distracting. They must hold the bear just as a home holds a family.
The drama of this drawing will be conveyed in the extremes of light and dark. Here we are at the beginning.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010.
Stand by for upcoming blogs and photos of this work in process as I continue "The Griz Drawing Chronicles" and let me know what you think of my work in progress.
Drawing day 2. When I’m in the field I sometimes spend days looking for wild things. The hunt is fun. Just being in the wilderness on a good day can bring a range of emotions from a sense of perfect belonging when conditions are right to moments of miserable dislocation. A sense of being out of place comes most often in bad weather or in a bad cloud of mosquitoes.
When I draw, I relive the wilderness experience. Wild things are transferred from wild places to artful spaces. In this process of transformation the emotions come along. On one level I imagine standing a few yards from the bear, remembering what it feels like to have nothing between us. On another level I relive the emotions of what is working well and what isn’t right.
Yesterday while I was drawing I wasn’t feeling particularly good about the drawing. I kept thinking that the pencils were not sharp enough. The Createacolor graphite is too dark. My willows are not detailed enough. My reference photo of the bear doesn’t have the detail I need in the face and eyes. It was too dark. These negatives come flooding in like a bad rainstorm at 10,000 feet, ten miles from the trailhead. If you are not prepared, you will be miserable for a long time. When you come prepared, the storm is a momentary discomfort that passes quickly.
Drawing is like that. There are times when it feels like things aren’t working. I feel like tearing up the paper and starting over. Yesterday I wondered if what I had envisioned for this drawing could come to fruition. I have been in this mental place before. I half expect it and I’m prepared. The first thought is to just work through the feelings. I have learned to trust my original vision. It is in my head and not on paper yet. The more I draw, the more that mental picture becomes a reality.
Getting it on paper is the process of solving a thousand little puzzles. Hours pass with the rhythm of the pencil scribing lines of light and dark. Differing textures begin to emerge. The contrasts are beginning to create dimension, depth. The shadow under the willows is working. The logs from the fence are feeling right. What I see in my mind is beginning to show up on paper. Today I’ll solve more problems. This is going to be good.
Stand by for upcoming blogs and photos of this work in process as I continue "The Griz Drawing Chronicles."
Today was a long day. I didn’t sleep last night but drawing progress today was prodigious. I like the big word. It reminds me that some undertakings are big. Life isn’t meant to do just little things. In art, every effort is an attempt to slip beyond boundaries.
My boundaries are my limits. My limits define the outer limits of MY average. To go beyond today’s average I have to do something new. I don’t think it even has to work, it just has to be new. When I do new things I cross boundaries and precipitate new discoveries. This knowledge creates long term improvements in my work.
The new, boundary crossing, event in today’s work is the impressionist pencil. Pencils are great for rendering near photo quality detail. At the same time, the pencil is just a tool. It records what I make it do. The background could be drawn leaf by leaf, stem by stem. But what if I think of drawing the background as suggestions of detail instead of trying to recreate the detail?
To do this I put my pencil on auto pilot. My mind goes into the space reserved for patterns and I will the pencil to draw suggestions. I am surprised by the outcomes from this experiment. The overall background willow pattern mimics the patterns of the foreground willows. Further, the impressionist method produces willows that look further away. This was the intended outcome and is probably due to the values within the pattern and the more out of focus look of the willows. A darker value will tend to drive the pattern further into the background.
Today I’m also thinking of the importance of the dark shadows under the willows. They roughly divide the drawing according to the rule of thirds. My subconscious must have been working this out because it wasn’t a conscious thought. I like happy accidents.
If I continue writing I’ll blither. I’d better stop.
I was gifted with a great night’s sleep last night. My eyes pried themselves open at 6:15 this morning and my drawing is moving ahead. Three quarters of the background is nearly complete. I’m thinking of the lower left area as my escape route. I will start on the Griz tomorrow. When you work on a Grizzly, having an escape route is important.
I may go to the Denver Zoo and draw in front of the Grizzly Bear Habitat. It would be fitting. The Denver Zoo was the first zoo to create natural habitat for its animals way back in 1918. The Grizzly was the first animal to be confined in a space without bars. Now such natural spaces are the norm and cages with bars seem unnecessarily cruel. The Denver Zoo continues to lead in its humane treatment of animals.
When I saw the Grizzly in the Grand Tetons, I had been told about some wolves feeding on an elk carcass near the Cuttingham Cabin. I was really looking for the wolves. When I found the elk, it had been stripped by the wolves. Little was left of the front shoulder and its ribs reached skyward with shredded meat beckoning to the vultures perched in the near tree. A magpie was sitting on one of the ribs snatching its evening meal from red bones. The thought of a Grizzly in the neighborhood didn’t cross my mind. I approached the dead elk and took some photos of the carcass complete with a vulture and a magpie.
When I had finished taking the pictures I was thinking about walking through the willows to get back to the jeep. The route through the willows would have been a short cut to the road.
However, my memory kicked in about a local hike on the Beaver Brook trail with my dog, Storm. We were jogging down a trail that was bordered by a stream that fed a large stand of willows. There was a strong odor that upset Storm. He came close to me and growled at the brush. Just a few feet further down the trail was a pile of bear scat and a couple of perfect bear tracks complete with claw marks. While it was clear that Storm knew that a bear was in the brush I had no clue. The Beaver Brooke bear was most likely a small black bear. I have often wished that my nose was as sensitive as a German Sheppard.
This memory caused me to suddenly feel that the longer route back to the jeep was preferable. A short while later the 850 pound female Grizzly strolled out of the willows.
My advice is to have an escape route and trust your intuition. I’ll bet you have some advice for me.
I went to the Denver Zoo yesterday. As a consequence, there is little drawing progress to report. Well, there is a lot of drawing progress to report. It’s just not on paper. Maybe by the end of today there will be more.
One of the most rejuvenating things about going to the zoo is the kids. I watched unbridled enthusiasm running wide eyed toward frolicking river otters, sea lions, elephants, and of course, grizzly bears. Children were tugging parents' skirts and pants, shoving with excitement, their voices exclaiming, “Come look at the lion Dad.” “Did you see it Mom?” The young are not lost in the world of animals, they are found.
It was in 1918 that the Denver Zoo created the first natural bear habitat. Client Services confirmed that it was in fact the first natural zoo habitat in the world. Only a confluence of roughnecks, gentlemen and ladies would have thought of such a thing back then. “I sure do hate to see those noble beasts behind bars. People need to see them like they are in nature. It’s a thrill, let me tell you, when there is nothing but air between you and the bear! Mark my words, there will come a time when the only place to see a grizzly will be here.”
I wonder what happened to that wild enthusiasm. Even in the Grand Tetons environment, professional adults confused moose with elk and coyotes with cougars. An attorney from New York City stood in my art tent telling his young son that the moose on my wall was really an elk. I was floored to realize that he wasn’t kidding!
To test my hypothesis that most children are unknowing nature lovers, I hold “name that animal” competitions at art fairs. The winners receive a free membership in my Wolf Club and a post card of a wolf. Their challenge is to provide the common name of all the animals on display in my booth and howl like a wolf. Less than one in ten can perform the task without help. My best advice is don’t bet against the kids!
City dwellers are surrounded by asphalt, concrete and steel. The closest they get to wild nature on a day-to-day basis is City Park. There is no relationship to be found between park animals and forest dwellers. Without a relationship with the wild things, how can there be love or even recognition?
I hope my art offers a connection. Here is my drawing of the moose that son Kyle almost stepped on. Here is the owl that followed his brother Jason on the Appalachian Trail. Here is the grizzly bear that Kaye and I watched one late afternoon in the Grand Tetons with nothing between us but air. Here are the totems that are symbols of who we are and what we are becoming.
My family says that my art work brings animals to life. I keep hoping that Griz will just sit down and scratch a flea. She does follow me with her eyes. She is now watching me write this blog. While I’m writing I put Griz on an easel so I can glance up and see her.
At this point my drawing is bugging me because the smooth lines on the left is too smooth and the backlight on her right leg is too regular. I’m going to have to go in and mess up her fur. She spends hours grooming, so she is not going to take my messing her fur lightly. I’m trying to convince her that she should go for the wild look. It suits her.
You know by now that I talk with my animals. Mostly they talk of being incomplete. They hate being only partly here. They are also egocentric. They want to look good and looking good means natural. To be born of mother nature is different than being born civilized. Mostly it is a tolerance thing. In nature most animals tolerate human intruders by actively avoiding us.
While in the wild, the wise people walk with heads up, ears tuned to surrounding sounds, and nose twitching as we learn the sights, sounds and smells of the land. It is wise to learn these things because if you are even inadvertently impolite, mother nature can slap you silly. When she gives you a polite lesson, you usually pay in pain and suffering. The first rule of being polite is to pay attention. Don’t walk between mama and her cubs. Don’t yell and throw rocks at the bull moose. Don’t walk, talk and chew gum at the same time in the woods. It annoys your neighbors. And most of all, don’t blabber on your cell phone.
To get the most from nature you have to focus outward to the wild around you. When you do this you are often rewarded. The first reward is peace. Then there is laughter. One time I was sitting on a rock and this little weasel decided that a good game of hide and seek was in order. He would silently pop up and then in a flash disappear. A few moments later he would show himself from a different vantage point. I don’t think he was sizing me up for a meal, was he?
Griz is feeling good. When you look close there is just a touch of challenge in her eyes. You can feel the power in her. Any closer and we would invade her space and nature would give us a polite lesson.
Art is a way that I bring the wilderness indoors. Every time I look at one of my drawings, I relive having been there. Many people have never been there. I know I’m lucky in that I’m at home out there and with my art I’m able to bring the outside inside. When I’m in a gallery with my art, I see some people who rush by. Wildlife simply doesn’t speak to them. Or maybe they just don’t like my art. Then there are those to take time to look, really look. I’ve watched people gaze at a drawing for an hour or more. You might wonder what they see, what stories they are listening to inside their heads. How do you measure what it means to someone else?
In small measure you find out. I was in Jackson Hole at a summer art fair. A young woman was passing by on her bike. She stopped and began looking at my art. She said that she was sorry but she was too poor to buy anything but she loved my work. She left and returned a little later with a small bag of coins. She offered me the bag and said that it contained all the money she had saved. It was just enough to buy a small print.
Please leave a comment about your wildlife experiences or bears or my drawing progress. Chronicle Number 7 is coming up!
Griz growled. It has been that kind of week. The demands of living infringe on the demands of creating. The rumble begins deep in Griz’s belly. It is a deep vibration that resonates with ceaseless needs. Empty bellies must be filled. Thirsty throats must be lubricated.
Haiti has dominated the news this week. An earth quake measuring 7.0 on the Richter Scale leveled thousands of buildings and tens of thousands of people died. It is a tragedy of such proportions that everything else seems small by comparison. The horrific poverty of the Haitians, four of every five live in abject poverty, magnifies natural disaster. Griz growled.
Americans have so much by comparison that it seems disingenuous to be haunted by the thought, “What about us?” Yet, the growl echoes in the mind. Unemployment numbers hold steady at 10%. The actual number of unemployed rise to estimates greater than 25%. Temporary jobs replace permanent jobs. Home foreclosures in 2009 were 17% higher than in 2008. In 2010 the foreclosure rate is expected to rise another 20%. Home prices have dropped 30% since 2003.
The secure bedrock of financial security is slipping away with the feeling that we are living on borrowed time. As George Bush appeals, “I know you want to send water and blankets, but please, just send cash.” The realization strikes that there are Americans who, despite the best of intentions, have no money to send. Griz growled.
In reaching to see beyond the depression of disaster and poverty, what is left? There is always work. The work of creating, building and rebuilding must go on until ...? Griz growls because I do paperwork for the IRS instead of beautifying her fur. Griz growls because I challenge myself to improve lesson plans for my college classes instead of working with her. Griz growls because even close to completion isn’t completion. Even finished, the drawing remains unfinished. Finished is reserved for the place where the imagination ceases and light fades to grey. Griz growls because feeding the bear is a forever job and I don’t want to let her go.
I must finish this work so I can begin the next. Griz growls.
Did you see me in the Grand Tetons National Park on Monday, August 24, 2009 in the early evening? I was the one causing the bear jam just north of the Triangle X Ranch turnoff and south of the Cuttingham Cabin on highway 191. What a feast! An elk had died, maybe road kill, I don’t know for sure. I stopped for dinner. Here you see me caching my meal. Caching keeps the riff raff like vultures, ravens, crows and wolves away.
Anyway I have a question for you. Did you see me? I’m just curious. I know a lot of people stopped to look. All of those who stopped kept a respectful distance of at least 50 yards. Thank you. I also want to thank the Park Rangers. They do a great job of protecting me and my privacy. Next time you see them be thankful that they are here to save me for you and your children to see in the wild.
Would you do me a favor? If you were here and saw me would you reply to this blog? It would be fun to hear your story ...
Well, Griz is finished. She’s happy. She tells me that the drawing looks just like her. In her hibernation dreams she still tastes that succulent elk that was aged just right. Griz has enjoyed being featured in my blog stories.
The longer I draw, the more attached I become to a work of art. I’ve gone through cycles of liking and disliking, loving and hating, and finally loving again the result of my work. When I begin, I like to work in concentrated blocks of time. This concentration preserves the muscle memory of how things are done and helps keep the integrity of the methods intact.
I’m afraid that I’ll forget how I drew the pattern that represents the grass in the back ground. The truth is that my subconscious stores the remembrance of how to draw this area. When my fingers get stiff and sore, I tend to want to hurry.
But excellence in art demands an investment in time. I can't rush. When my pace is just right, every action flows into the finished product. I don't tolerate any lazy, worn out, or tired strokes because they take away from the quality of craftsmanship I seek.
So, here we are. Griz and I are done after nearly 100 hours of work. I will always carry the memory of having been in her actual presence. She is so big and powerful, so full of easy grace. She’s so wonderfully natural.
This drawing is fairly large at 16 x 22” which will frame out to about 29 x 36.” The original has to be scanned and test prints run for quality checking. Limited edition prints will be available in about three weeks at $295 each. This edition is limited to 150 copies. I offer custom matting and framing to fit any decor. The original drawing is for sale at $2950.
I will frame her in a black frame and hang her on my wall so I can see her every day until she is sold. It will be a hard parting, but even artists have to eat. January 19, 2010
So, art lovers. What do you think about my drawing and The Griz DrawingChronicles?
