Drawing Together Ends 2021 Brightly

The Graphic Medicine's monthly Drawing Together group met again today. After losing the plot a couple of meetings ago, when I got stuck once again on my lack of technical drawing skills (and yet I still don't try hard enough to improve them!), I was encouraged to return by the artist leading this month's session.

The Zoom invitation included a few words from Judith:

"Learning to draw, or more accurately, realising how to look at things, for me marked the beginning of being an artist.

For this Drawing Together session, I have prepared a sequence of prompts with which you will explore when you learned how to draw and how you formed a unique sense of yourself as an artist.

As the New Year begins and the days grow longer, let's draw closer to the light, together."

Asked to recall our first memory of ourselves, what came to mind was sitting on the floor in our flat on W 116th Street, watching Bugs Bunny on TV whilst eating a piece of cheese. We had just under 2 minutes to draw this one.

The second prompt (4 mins) was a bit more difficult at first - I had absolutely no memory of the first time I knew that I liked to draw. I started to get anxious again but, thank goodness, other options were then offered, including "whatever it is that makes you you". And I looked back and saw my first camera, a Kodak Instamatic, and remembered how much from as far back as I go that I love taking pictures.

[the earliest QPR pic of mine I've found was taken with an Instamatic!

]

Judith concluded with a story about a woman she'd visited in a nursing home who had told her a story. The story made the woman very happy. She told it again. And again. In the end, it was the only story she told, but it always made her happy. Judith spoke about keeping ourselves in the light, and asked us to draw a favourite memory, perhaps the one story that we would tell when we were in the home.

Dithering about which memory would steal drawing time, and we only had 10 minutes, so I took the first that came to mind.

It was the day a congregant invited my dad to view the local derby with neighbours QPR in an executive hospitality box at Stamford Bridge. I happened to be a QPR photographer on the pitch that afternoon. In those days there were few, if any, women shooting football matches, so I usually got a lot of abuse from the crowd. However, the R's fans began to recognise me after a while. At half-time I walked towards the away end, and some fans began chanting my name. My father was so proud and excited - his favourite team, his first-born on the pitch, her name being sung by several hundred fellow fans. I sometimes wonder if this was just a bit better than the day he blessed me in front of the ark when I was ordained. So, this is the drawing. And even though it probably wasn't on that day, I drew the floodlight, shining down on the away end.

In between each prompt we got the chance to look at each other's drawings, and hear the stories behind them. I love this group - people are kind and supportive and encouraging. I hope it continues in 2022!

PS Sorry about the faintness of the pencil. You might see the drawings better if you click on them. They get bigger too!

#DrawingTogether with Dr Lottie Corr

Last night there was another wonderful hour together with the Graphic Medicine community for our monthly #DrawingTogether. This time we were led by Dr Lottie Corr, and my Zoom screen was definitely too small to contain her joie de vivre and encouragement.

Our introductory prompt was to draw 4 panels. In the first two we were to draw 2 objects we could see in the room, and name them. I decided to name my fan after her Italian identity rather than an English one. The third panel was captioned "Suddenly" & the fourth "And then ..." We had 5 minutes, which is always so much shorter than I think it will be. And then, of course, we got to see what others had done and maybe share our own ideas.

For the second prompt, Dr Lottie talked a little about comics as maps, and asked us to create 6 panels that mapped where we were. She suggested that we draw objects that others might not know.

I started with my MickeyD's Batman movie mug from which I always drink my water. As usual, I made a mess of the perspective, and used up a lot of the 10 minutes trying to fix it (that is supposed to be a drop of water as the edge of the panel). Next was the panda on the sofa, and this was an interesting experience because I decided to draw quickly, without thinking about perspective, just drawing what I saw. By the time I got to the kippah, there were only a couple of  minutes left, and I wasted precious seconds wondering how others get so much done within the time allotted. 

Time for the second sharing. Usually I try to go near the beginning, so I can look at everyone else's work without worrying about what I am going to say. This time I waited to put up my hand. And then I realised ... that gave me another couple of minutes to draw (#cheater!). Hmmmmm!

If you look on FB & Insta & Twitter you may find under #DrawingTogetherGM the drawings of others present last night, and at other meetings. I love this group - for its inclusivity, for its diversity, and especially because it inspires me to put my pencil to a piece of paper and actually draw!

Beans Beans They're Good for Your ...

... soul. This week our Drawing Together workshop was led by Zara Slattery from a room somewhere near Brighton. She had a bit of trouble getting into the meeting so while we waited, J suggested we should think about what we would like to be, to do well, in our next life, and then create a quick self-portrait. 

Cue my usual panic. Sometimes it's a bit boring. Anyway, I decided I'd like to be someone good at drawing, and spent much of my 3 minutes trying to reduce the size of the hand to less that that of the head. Our leader arrived, and asked us to draw beans. She drew a kidney bean. But it could be any kind of bean. We worked on a more 3-D representation. Then we had to smoosh our beans into 2-D and then 3-D shapes. I got stuck. Zara tried to help, but my mind was too resistant. Very frustrating.

Next we had to find words for emotions during a journey. In that instant of decision I could travel no further than the journey of that hour. And then we were asked to draw a 4-panel story of the beans going on that chosen journey expressing the words we had written down:

Next we had a couple of minutes to create symbols for each of the emotions. Zara talked about drawing bunnies and seagulls and I got tangled up in not knowing how to find a suitable creature let alone draw it but she gave us the out that we could also scribble so I scribbled away.

Finally we were to draw a map with a path around the outside into which our symbols would be placed to mark the passage of the journey. Then we were asked to draw our human beans in the middle of the map, going on that journey. Zara spoke beautifully about medieval manuscripts illuminated around the edges, and that led me to the memory of my favourite teacher ever, Mr Denham in the 4th year at Bousfield, who would only mark pages of homework if the margins were illustrated. I drew my path, and then it was time to add the beans:

I wanted to end on a positive note so I got my bean out of there. And then I got to see some of the drawings of others. It was another great hour in a safe and supportive place. And I'm getting better at not giving up, and having a go, although still with a bit of a hissy fit. But I like my beans! Thank you Zara & the Drawing Together team. See you in a month!

Keep on Drawing!

 

Drawing is difficult. Well, it feels difficult. To me. Possibly I focus on that too much. Anyway, it's a struggle. One of the great things about our #DrawingTogether group is the support that is given to anyone who dares to share how they feel. I have not yet stopped feeling intimidated by the quality of work so many seem able to produce so quickly. Yet these same artists always find something positive to mention about what I (and everyone else) share onscreen. This is a blessing.

Today's warm-up was 5 minutes to draw the Coronavirus. Quite a few people in the USA seemed hopeful and positive, looking towards the light. I still feel it looms over us, certainly here, so that's what I drew. 

The main exercise was to draw four panels, with 5 minutes for each one. The first was of three new objects with which we have become familiar during the pandemic:

I drew my drawing pencil (gosh it is getting short), with which I entered this group, a mask, and the white hair on my head revealed by the lack of access to a hairdresser (combined with my unwillingness to try and dye it myself which goes back to an incident with some cochineal when I was a teenager).

Then our moderator, the Spanish doctor and cartoonist Monica Lalanda, asked us to bring these three objects to life and name them:

The directions for the next 2 panels were tough for me:  we were to draw our creations interacting with each other. My mind went blank. All I could think was, I cannot do this. I wrote this thought in the chat, I said I couldn't see them interacting. Monica and others encouraged me not to give up. Someone suggested that I should draw them meeting, and I thought ok I will have a go. 

I don't know how Mascherina became the bad one, but that's how she turned out. Wispo appears to have gone to Egypt*. And then Tip found a way:

Not great drawings technically, but important for me because I didn't give up. & Monica made a point of saying to me that when the pandemic is over, I must keep drawing. 

That moment when it seems too hard, and you just want to stop. Or, you can whine for a moment, and then have another go. Thank you for the blessing that is Drawing Together.

* not a Pesach theme but a bad pun (they are in denial. I'll get my coat).

Drawing Inspirations

There are some dreams that are just that, a wish for something that will probably never be, but now and then one may procrastinate for a moment and think what if ...? And then there are those that one may actually try to reach, which involve drive and stamina, and practice. 

I've always been a bit lazy, and definitely afraid of doing things badly. When I was little, I wanted to be a cartoonist like Charles Schulz. I decorated my exercise books with wobbly Snoopys and Charlie Browns. I doodled. I doodled on my schoolwork so much that the History teacher suggested I should transfer to the Art department. Or away from the History department. I made cute cards for my friends. I created a character. But although he wandered in and out of my notebooks and diaries, I never explored his world. There are so many excuses. But the fact is, I did not put in the practice. 

A few years ago an ad led me to attend a JW3 Masterclass with Ariel Schrag.  Then a gift from my beloved L of the ticket to an evening with Alison Bechdel (who did not flee from my fangirl affection and had a serious chat with me) led me to Laydeez Do Comics and the wonderful Sarah Lightman. Sarah, who forbade me to buy her book until I could show her six months of drawings done every day, sent me to Graphic Medicine and their weekly Drawing Together online meetings which included, a couple of weeks ago, a class with Lynda Barry. 

The encouragement of these individual people, as well as the kind and enthusiastic members of the Drawing Together group, have given me wings. After Lynda's workshop I wanted to draw. In fact, while I was waiting to be let into the Zoom room, I looked at the holding page and sort of sketched her face (that's the first pic above). And after it was all over, I thought I'd have another go (2nd pic), and then another:

Ok, they probably all look like different people, but it was good practice to draw what I saw and see how that comes out (proportions need a LOT of work). And this next one I was quite pleased about:

There are a couple more, and I guess I will keep drawing Lyndas for a while. I'm using some screenshots from the video as a model. Meanwhile, I want to thank everyone for being so positive. It really helps me to be less afraid and draw more.

PS  Here's a link to Lynda's #DrawingTogetherGM class.

The Snorkel Solution

It's been a while since I tried to draw anything. I missed the last #DrawingTogetherGM gathering as it took place during Kol Nidre. And I missed several opportunities to sit down and draw something. But my mind was blank. 

Something came to mind this afternoon, so here it is:

O yes, and please wash your hands and keep your distance and wear a mask and wear it properly.

Thank you.

Drawing Practice - with Snoopygrams

 

There WILL be another #DrawingTogetherGM next week (or is it the week after? Better check before I get too excited), but to keep the plates spinning I've been trying to draw something in that slot each Sunday evening. That hour is quite important for my mental health - while I focus on the drawing, everything else is quiet for a while.

At the moment, I'm following the tutorials on Instagram for how to draw figures from Peanuts.  I know it's not the same as creating my own comic, but it is good practice in getting pen to paper, which I find quite difficult. In this drawing, Schroeder is more Little Richard than Clara Schumann. I was quite nervous about having a go at Schroeder as it is a side view and has a big prop. Indeed, I redid the pencil several times, which I haven't done before. 

Nu, hurrah for having a go, and hurrah for spinning the plates, and I can't wait until the group is together again.

DrawingTogetherGM 14: Listening and Hearing

I thought I was maybe a bit too excited to return to the Graphic Medicine drawing group after a whole month without prompts and exercises and sharing - it was good to see that I was not the only one who felt glad to be together again.

And then ... disaster struck. Our task was to draw a comic, in 10 minutes, about a conversation where somebody hadn't been listened to. Or maybe had been heard. I wasn't sure. I thought I was listening to Shelley, but somehow I couldn't understand what she wanted us to do. My thoughts were made of molasses.

We only had 10 minutes. I didn't know what to draw. I needed a story, and had bubkes. And that made me crazy. When do I never have a story? I can think of a story for any occasion. Or adapt something so it just about fits the occasion. My head hurt.

But I really do want to draw. So I came up with a compromise and, in the time that I had left, drew what I've just taken 134 words to tell you all:

Sigh. But I drew something. And very much enjoyed seeing all the other interpretations that people shared at the meeting. 

At the end, as people were leaving, someone asked if there might be any chance that we could go back to the weekly meetings. There wasn't a complete refusal. Hurrah! 

PS  we do not share other people's drawing without permission, but I think it is ok to mention a thought shared by one of the artists present. In preparation for the warm-up exercise, we were talking about listening to the soundscape around us in the room. Someone alerted us to the sounds of everyday that we do not notice, giving examples such as breathing, clocks, one's stomach and our hearts. When we listen, what do we hear? 

I do remember that Shelley began the session by talking about the speech bubbles (and thought bubbles) traditionally used in cartoons, and suggested that all the space outside them was listening space. Often, my problem is that I am so busy working on what I will say in response to the current speaker that I do not listen properly. I really should be quiet in the listening space. (I need to work on this). 

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

#DrawingTogetherGM 10: The Politics of Illness

Here is what I drew for this week's Graphic Medicine Drawing Together session. The prompt we were given this time was "Care as an urgent practical task". It was not an easy prompt, but we only had 15 minutes to draw so I went with what came immediately to mind.

When it was my turn to share what I'd drawn with the group, I asked them first to look without my saying anything. I wanted them to have an unguided response. Then I mentioned that this was a representation of me and my mother last year near the end of her illness. From my point of view, we were desperately trying to get her to eat, and (one time only) I tried to do a deal with her pain meds. I remember having a sudden flashback to feeding my baby sister many years earlier. She would sit in her high-chair in the exact same spot in the kitchen where my mother was sitting in that moment, and it felt to me like a similar situation, i.e., trying to get her to eat. It was just that instead of "one for you, one for me", or "here comes the airplane in for a landing!" it was "I will swap you a pill for a mouthful of soup."

It took me a while to understand that as her ability to be independent was being drained by the lymphoma, my mother sought any way she could to take some control of her life. And the one thing she had left was food. So when we said please, she said no. I get it now, but it was tough at the time. The fact that she was fighting was actually positive. And it is easier to see from here that while I truly wanted to alleviate her suffering, I  must admit that part of me did not want to feel it either. 

It's not something I ever really thought about before my mother got sick. I've rarely questioned the concept that medicine is something to help you get better. A simple perspective, I know. In a world where things are now rather more complicated. And so, looking at the drawing that I did, seeing what came first to my mind, now I ask:  where is the boundary between numbing the pain so that the patient's suffering is alleviated, and numbing the patient so others are not overwhelmed by their inability to cure the ailment? And who gets to choose, and why?