John Steinbeck wrote “The best laid plans o’ mice an’ men,
go oft awry”.
One of Murphy’s Laws states that “If something can go wrong,
then it will”.
So it seemed that this was to be the eventuality of a
perfect start to my night up in the Blue Mountains, when mist, fog and clouds
started rolling in in turn after sunset.
Four mates and I arrived at sunset at Mt Blackheath
Lookout. There’s a take-off ramp for
hang gliders and paragliders, and a couple a paragliders were taking advantage
of the last of the day’s thermal currents with some last minute flying. I always find it exhilarating how they pull
on the ropes, the blade obediently puffs up, and after a little run up the
glider and pilot are lifted into the quiet sky.
And to see a brace of gliders’ silhouette against the orange setting
sun, and floating over a green valley, gorgeous.
When we arrived, the wind was firm and from the west. I thought that the easterly change that was
forecast would have no chance against it.
No sooner did the sun set that there was a sudden change in wind
direction, and the warm westerly was sent packing by a roaring easterly. I have to say that the change was
spectacular.
Unfortunately the change meant that the clear sky would
cloud out soon – Easterly winds come from the coast, so they are moisture
laden, and when they encounter the mountain range, clouds form as the moist air
climbs up the mountain range. The
moisture content was very significant as mist soon surrounded us, meaning that
if I started a sketch, the paper would quickly absorb the moisture, regardless
of any measures I had taken to prevent this from happening.
The three hours of clear dark sky that we had was invaluable
though. I had taken two telescopes for
the purpose of sketching the Large Magellanic Cloud (LMC). An 80mm f/5 achromat, and a 100mm f/5
achromat. With the LMC being so large
(over 12° in its largest dimension), I was not sure which would be the best
scope to use. The 80mm gives me a 6°
true field of view with the appropriate eyepiece. But the image is not as detailed as that
provided by the 100mm refractor, despite the larger scope giving a smaller true
field of view of 5°.
So the dilemma for me was which instrument. Large field of view and less detailed, or
smaller field of view and more detailed.
So without the pressure of having to produce an actual piece (I made the
decision that this night was not the appropriate one for a sketch), I was able
to take my time with each telescope in turn to find out what each actually has
to offer. Which of the two instruments I
would settle on using.
So, I settled on the 100mm.
The image it gives is just so much more appealing, that despite the
additional detail, it just shows so much more of the LMC that I feel compelled
to lay down on paper everything it has to offer, and not settle for less, even
if it means an “easier” time for me.
Ok, I now have the telescope. But this still left the task of how to
undertake such a large piece. I have a
new extra large easel which I haven’t initiated as yet, nor any experience with
sketching on such a large sheet. I described
the new easel in my previous blog post.
The next day at home an idea came to me. The inspiration coming from the Old Masters
who undertook a series of study works before tackling the actual piece. This approach allows for many different
technical and composition issues to be sorted.
Very often, the work behind these study works is greater than the time
and effort involved in the final work.
Undertaking a study piece of the LMC would do several things
for me:
·
Give me
some experience on handling the easel
·
Give me a
sense of scale in developing the sketch
·
Become
more familiar with the LMC, and identify certain details
·
Give me a
notion of how to produce a piece that conveys the vitality of what I see through
the eyepiece. My examination of the LMC
on the Saturday night gave me a fabulous view of its brilliance and expanse – I
need to somehow convey this without making the sketch flat and underwhelming.
Another problem next presented itself. Finding photographs of the LMC is easy. Manipulating those photos so they more
closely resembled how I saw the LMC is easy enough to do too. But how to reproduce the smaller field of view
of the scope compared to the size of the galaxy, and so give me an idea of handling
the scope and doing the sketch? The
solution was surprisingly very low tech.
A sheet of dark card with a hole cut out of it, and scaling the image of
the LMC on the computer screen to match that seen though the scope. As the sketch develops, I move the background
image and/or the mask to allow me to work on other sections of the LMC as I go.
Excellent!
I’ve since been working on a series of study sketches. This has been a good journey to undertake. It has presented me with several technical
aspects I had not anticipated, and allowed me to consider ways to deal with
them. All that’s left now is to tackle
the LMC out in the field.
~x.X.x~
The main thing I want to convey is not to expect to
undertake a sketch out in the field without having done some practice in the
cool light of day. It is invaluable to
become familiar with your media, how to manipulate it, what different brush
strokes do, and how different objects present different challenges and how to
develop a technique that best works for you.
No athlete takes to the field without practice/training. Surgeons do not undertake complex surgery
without gaining experience. Artists are
no different when it comes to developing their technique and familiarity with
their tools and media. Don’t think that
practice is cheating. The only cheating
that happens is to yourself as you won’t be producing work to your fullest
potential.
Clear skies and sharp pencils,
Alex.
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