I had read in the local paper a new art school was moving into my town. As a local teen who loved painting and drawing a new art school in your neighborhood seemed miraculous and worth investigating. I still can recall the first time I climbed the steps in the converted cigar factory, opened the door to endless white walls, and watched students intensely staring at a bottle while straddling wooden donkeys. I had never seen a pencil held as if it were the only finger on your hand and I stared with curious amusement as students vigorously sharpened pencils to a lethal point while charcoal dust fell to the floor. I sensed immediately that this place was unlike any other art school I attended. When you looked at the drawings lining the walls you did not see the marks of individual artists, instead you did see a collective way of comprehending. It was like staring at an elementary alphabet chart. You knew the individual letters but you were not sure how they became a word or even a sentence. You needed someone to show you how the pieces fit together and why. I knew at that moment if I wanted to be an artist I had to learn the visual language that was being spoken at the Barnstone studios.
New students had a simple goal, if you are going to make a mess then make an intelligent mess. What I did not know is that it would take years to make an intelligent mess. I spent the next four years studying the internal mechanisms of pictorial composition, drawing from the cast until I scrutinized every form, and mixing paint and fine-tuning each color and value. Myron insisted I draw the same bottle for weeks until I grasped the relationship and scale of every curve and straight line and the tone of light and color that cascaded over its form. I never asked nor allowed myself to worry about self-expression. It was understood that my task was to learn and memorize this basic vocabulary and to make the conscious act of drawing and design appear effortless. This would be the time when a foundation of skills would be resolutely established and creativity would come later with earned facility.
It has been over twenty years since I studied at the Barnstone Studios and no institution or teacher has ever been able to demonstrate the eternal order that connects seemingly distinct cultures from the Renaissance to Modernism. Myron continuously confirmed that there are far more similarities than differences in a drawing by Raphael and a drawing by Picasso, a portrait by Ingres and a portrait by Bacon. This gift ignited my love of art and inspired me to see these masterpieces. As I traveled to the great museums of Europe and visited the ancient cultures of the Mediterranean, I could listen to and appreciate the dialogue from culture to culture and generation to generation. They spoke to me because I could understand the conversation.
I was 15 when I first entered the Barnstone Studios; I was intimidated by the incredible art on the walls and many talented people. I was afraid they would learn that I didn’t have any business being there – I was no artist. I was only there because my mom had the crazy idea I could learn to draw. Myron lectured that he was going to assume that we knew nothing about drawing, and planned to cover everything systematically. He said anyone could learn to draw with hard work and dedication. I admired his confidence in his ability to teach me, but I hadn’t told him that I wasn’t born with any artistic ability whatsoever. Most of that first lecture went over my head and the next week when it was my turn to have my homework critiqued I was sure Myron would suggest I pursue the fast food industry. Instead, he told me what was wrong with my work, and how to fix it; he didn’t mention that my drawing was barely recognizable. He continued this process for 9 weeks and never did tell me that I should give up drawing. I took Drawing I again and it started to make sense. I was shocked at my improvement.
I continued studying with Myron for three years and eventually earned my own space on the studio wall to display my work. Suddenly people were saying I was gifted. I would try to explain to new, self doubting students that no one with work on the walls was gifted, we had all simply spent years struggling to understand and apply the invaluable lessons Myron was teaching us. The proof that none of us is innately talented is not in the finished drawing that’s hanging on the wall, but in the thousands of drawings it took every student to get there. So to those who think they lack an innate artistic ability, I say to you, study with Myron and discover what all his students have discovered, that drawing is not an ability you’re born with, but a skill that can be learned.
Wow! Christopher this letter really gives the flavor of the studio experience on a full life scale. It is also elegantly written and very simple to read. Thank you - your letter was a gift to read.
I had read in the local paper a new art school was moving into my town. As a local teen who loved painting and drawing a new art school in your neighborhood seemed miraculous and worth investigating. I still can recall the first time I climbed the steps in the converted cigar factory, opened the door to endless white walls, and watched students intensely staring at a bottle while straddling wooden donkeys. I had never seen a pencil held as if it were the only finger on your hand and I stared with curious amusement as students vigorously sharpened pencils to a lethal point while charcoal dust fell to the floor. I sensed immediately that this place was unlike any other art school I attended. When you looked at the drawings lining the walls you did not see the marks of individual artists, instead you did see a collective way of comprehending. It was like staring at an elementary alphabet chart. You knew the individual letters but you were not sure how they became a word or even a sentence. You needed someone to show you how the pieces fit together and why. I knew at that moment if I wanted to be an artist I had to learn the visual language that was being spoken at the Barnstone studios.
New students had a simple goal, if you are going to make a mess then make an intelligent mess. What I did not know is that it would take years to make an intelligent mess. I spent the next four years studying the internal mechanisms of pictorial composition, drawing from the cast until I scrutinized every form, and mixing paint and fine-tuning each color and value. Myron insisted I draw the same bottle for weeks until I grasped the relationship and scale of every curve and straight line and the tone of light and color that cascaded over its form. I never asked nor allowed myself to worry about self-expression. It was understood that my task was to learn and memorize this basic vocabulary and to make the conscious act of drawing and design appear effortless. This would be the time when a foundation of skills would be resolutely established and creativity would come later with earned facility.
It has been over twenty years since I studied at the Barnstone Studios and no institution or teacher has ever been able to demonstrate the eternal order that connects seemingly distinct cultures from the Renaissance to Modernism. Myron continuously confirmed that there are far more similarities than differences in a drawing by Raphael and a drawing by Picasso, a portrait by Ingres and a portrait by Bacon. This gift ignited my love of art and inspired me to see these masterpieces. As I traveled to the great museums of Europe and visited the ancient cultures of the Mediterranean, I could listen to and appreciate the dialogue from culture to culture and generation to generation. They spoke to me because I could understand the conversation.
I was 15 when I first entered the Barnstone Studios; I was intimidated by the incredible art on the walls and many talented people. I was afraid they would learn that I didn’t have any business being there – I was no artist. I was only there because my mom had the crazy idea I could learn to draw. Myron lectured that he was going to assume that we knew nothing about drawing, and planned to cover everything systematically. He said anyone could learn to draw with hard work and dedication. I admired his confidence in his ability to teach me, but I hadn’t told him that I wasn’t born with any artistic ability whatsoever. Most of that first lecture went over my head and the next week when it was my turn to have my homework critiqued I was sure Myron would suggest I pursue the fast food industry. Instead, he told me what was wrong with my work, and how to fix it; he didn’t mention that my drawing was barely recognizable. He continued this process for 9 weeks and never did tell me that I should give up drawing. I took Drawing I again and it started to make sense. I was shocked at my improvement.
Comments
Terrific letter. Your work is magnificent.