For the artist, if he has the right stuff in him, has a consciousness, in doing his best work, of something, as Ruskin has said, “not in him but through him.” He has been, as it were, but the agent through which it has found expression.
Harold Speed, ‘The Practice and Science of Drawing’
@gumnut-logic for some reason this reminds me of your Virgil. I was puttering around at Project Gutenburg seeing what I could see, and I thought, Eh, I’m interested in getting better at drawing, so I’ll take a looksee. This gently tapped me on the shoulder.
Look what you made me do…at Ork, no less! Will do more later. 😁
The image was in his head.
The challenge was to get it out onto the paper.
The level of challenge could be quantified by the density of wadded balls of similar paper at his feet.
Virgil sighed. He wanted this, but it just wasn’t working. His pencil wasn’t speaking.
Blowing out a breath, he stood up, threw the drawing board and pencil onto his bed, and went in search of his studio. Perhaps a different medium.
Virgil’s studio was an artist’s dream. When money was little object, art materials were easy to obtain and a great deal of fun to play with. Not to say that Virgil had over-indulged in spending. It was more a case of inspiration sparking purchases. Therefore, he had full sets of several different media just waiting for him to create.
Today it was oils. Pencil was hard, its lines sharp. He felt the need for buttery oils. The touch of colour, the slide of the brush…
He grabbed a sheet of oil paper and slapped it up on an easel, securing it with a bull clip. Yes…
Palette, brushes…he eyed his colours…yes…cadmium orange, yellow, red…cobalt, definitely, Cerulean blue, Prussian blue, Payne’s grey and white, lots of white. And sap green.
He dropped the tubes beside his palette and began squeezing out paint. Perhaps he didn’t need a sketch, perhaps this was just something he needed to paint from his head. Perspective be damned.