"Usually, when we say we can't do something, what we mean is that we won't do something unless we can guarantee that we'll do it perfectly."
This quote, from The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron, rings true too often in my artistic life.
I'm a recovering perfectionist, so I am very glad that the lessons in the drawing book I'm currently working through (with loving prodding from my accountability peeps; you know who you are) seem geared toward those who are struggling with the same debilitating disease (yes, that's how I feel about it).
This week, I had to draw blind contours of giraffes.
That is, I had to draw contours of giraffes while looking at pictures of them and not looking at my paper.
Since there was no way the drawings could be perfect, all the pressure was off from the get-go, and I totally loved doing this assignment.
What's not to love about an assignment which is done on plain white card stock with a fine-point permanent pen (hello, Sharpie!)) and includes photos of an animal I actually like?
The results made me laugh, too!
Some of my giraffes had pretty thick necks, and some were just plain lovable - like this guy at the top right:
I liked two of the head-only contours well enough to go back and add some interior lines (the interior lines on the right-hand drawing were not done blind).
The lesson includes the suggestion that you take the blind contour drawing a step further by drawing three contours right on top of each other: looking at the paper only long enough to start the second and third drawings in the same place as the first.
I was amazed at how close in size my three drawings were:
I learned so much by doing this little exercise; things about giraffes, things about my skills, and things about fear and fun (they're not on friendly terms).
I'm going to pack up all the things I learned, along with my pencil and sketchbook, and I'm going to take them to the zoo next week.
Miss Helping Hands and Little Man will both be on spring break.
I want to show them the blind giraffes.