The Art of Teaching Art
Al Naso
When I retired in 2000, I had thirty-nine years of experience between my seven years at
The Newark School of Fine and Industrial Art, and then thirty-two at Bakersfield College,
teaching a variety of art classes from two and three-dimensional design, drawing, color,
graphics, and art history. However, I will never forget my very first experience teaching drawing
and what that taught me about students and teaching art.
In 1961, I had two years experience as an illustrator when my brother John, an advertising
designer, suggested that I apply for a part-time teaching job at the Newark School of Fine and
Industrial Art, which was just outside of New York City. He was teaching advertising design
there and knew from conversations he had with a colleague that the position was suddenly
vacated. Though I had just been hired for another illustrator job and had no teaching experience,
I thought I would try for this as well, and I went to the school for an interview. The director was
relieved to be able to get someone with Pratt Institute credentials on really short notice, so I had
the job, starting almost immediately, to work one day and one evening each week. Fortunately,
my other new employer agreed to my taking one day a week off, and actually expressed pleasure
in having a “professor” on his staff.
With such short notice to teach three classes and with really no time to prepare, I felt
terror on my way to Newark. This was to be the first morning with my new class and I had
absolutely no idea what I was going to do with those students. I entered the classroom of
sophomores, introduced myself, and took roll.
Seeking something easy to start with, I thought a small common animal might work.
“Draw a mouse,” I said, “and then tape it up on the board in the front of the room, without a
signature.” This kept things going for a while, but when the work was up I realized it was really
poor, and in order to avoid a completely negative critique so soon with a new class, I quickly
flashed on a follow-up idea.
“Draw another mouse—this time without looking at the paper and with the pencil in
your other hand—and take no more than ninety seconds to do it.” The students gasped, but
they followed instructions. “Now, cover the first drawing you have on the board with this one.”
They obediently did this—and I now had the basis for a discussion that had its roots in my Pratt
Foundation Art year experience and one that oriented my students to an art vocabulary and
basic spatial concepts.
Their first drawings were stiff, and most of the lines were traced over and over, making
them appear smudgy and clumsy. The second drawings had a directness of line, a better
relation to the paper space, and much more movement and life. I had to explain that obsessively
going over and over lines was probably due to uncertainty about what the subject looked like,
lack of empathy for it, and lack of confidence. The second drawings, because they were drawn
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with a less inhibited hand, closed eyes, and with speed, had to have a different result. Very soon,
the students did see that their second drawings were much better. “But why?”--I knew that
they were baffled.
The second drawings had vigorous lines, with a variety of weights and thicknesses. And
since these lines did not meet themselves to close areas of the animals’ bodies, the images
allowed the paper space to move into and out from their bodies, thus including rather than
isolating the subjects from the paper. The drawings now could breathe. The mice also had more
vitality when details such as legs and tail were not connecting to the bodies, creating a sense of
movement, giving life to the figures. Most of the drawings had naturally drawn rhythmic lines
depicting details such as ears, tail, eyes, and nostrils, in different curvilinear sizes and directions.
The rhythms created movement and provided unity. The drawings then had much more
personality, vitality, and expression, thus making them more interesting than the first attempts.
Most important, however, was that the second drawings were purely line compositions,
better qualifying them as art. Art, you see, is more an expression using its elements of line, plane,
volume, color, and texture, rather than just the creation of a recognizable object. The best
representational art is great for its masterful employment of those elements.
Representations devoid of sensitivity to those elements will not be convincing. The first
drawings could not work because they were not thought of as line experiences; they were too
concerned with only representation. To draw effectively, one must think in terms of the art
elements, tools, feelings, and ideas. To do this, one must first discover the natural resources
within oneself, learn from other artists, and have the patience to develop oneself over a lifetime.
I followed this exercise by next pressing the students to add emotion to their work. I had
them imagine a mouse that was hungry and in pursuit of a chunk of cheese that had been lying
about for some time. I dramatized the image for them by acting out with hands extended, baring
my teeth, and making lusty noises. I asked them to do the same--act it out. Then draw again,
with eyes closed, using the “wrong” hand, and taking no more than ninety seconds to capture
the image.
The results were even better this way, though sometimes the subject was not as clear.
Still, the lines were better, and emotion was there. The students enjoyed this variation and were
starting to laugh as they were taping the work to the board, so I went on with another. I asked
them now to draw two mice fighting for the same cheese, once again not looking, using the
“wrong” hand, in ninety seconds, and got really good results.
I was hoping that since the class didn’t sign or get graded for these drawings, they could
easily deal with the shock of this first lesson. Further, I hoped that as this was a starter
assignment and not seen as a major project, the doing of it would amuse them.
I felt sure that the ease of the assignment, and the objectivity of the critique helped them
to see its value in demonstrating that drawing was both an emotional and an intellectual
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expression and that it was within their ability to learn valuable skills. And I learned that I could
teach! Since that very first day—the mouse assignment, with variations and modifications
remained my standard icebreaker and introductory lecture for basic drawing classes.
Now the next question became “must we always draw blindly to have a good result?” Of
course not--the whole purpose of these exercises was to demonstrate that within us all, there
exists a natural ability, though latent, that can be discovered and used to better express
ourselves graphically. All we need to do is to examine our own work through formal study,
practice, observation, and perseverance.
With some of the basic art concepts learned from drawing with closed eyes, it then
became necessary to instruct the students how to use their senses more consciously when
drawing, and developing sensitivity for their tools was a must. Paper can be white or off-white,
smooth or rough, thin or thick, soft or firm, clean or dirty. A pencil can have soft or hard lead, be
sharp or dull, and can be used on its broad side for wide strokes. The range of marks made with
such simple tools is huge as is the potential for creating strong images.
Part of student insecurity with drawing is the use of the eraser. Pencils often have
terrible erasers that smear more than erase. Anyway, I discourage erasing, because even when
well done, it curbs spontaneity. Corrective erasing should only be done when developing
preliminary drawings in perspective, or with first-draft stuff, and should never be evident in
finished art.
Tool selection is important. Knowing whether you want a delicate or vigorous result, or
a contrast of feelings expressed within the drawing will determine the right selection, or the
tools themselves might suggest the approach. In any case, the artist and the tools must work
together. The temptation to just pick up any old dull pencil is not good enough. I like to use
sharp pencils for clean lines, and I can turn the point on its side to obtain a thicker and more
tonal line. With practice, lighter lines can be graduated to darker tonal ones in one stroke, or
visa versa.
For practice it is a good idea to simply draw lots and lots of lines along side each other,
gradually changing from light weight to heavy and then drawing lines that gradually get darker
or lighter. Also doing straight lines and arcs, with progressive changes without concern for
representation is an excellent exercise.
It was time now to draw from a concrete rather than an imagined subject. I suggested a
nearby leafy plant because it had a thematic repetition with various leaves, yet afforded variety
in the multiple angles they present--unity and variety. I explained it would be best to start with
this small plant with few leaves so that one could concentrate on each part without confusion,
then apply what one has learned about line variety to what is seen.
There are no actual lines on real things, so one can only invent them when using a pencil
to make lines to describe shapes and space on a flat surface. We do not copy what we see--we
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translate. Varying line weight is one way to create a sense of three-dimensionality to what we
see. There are other ways, such as overlapping and turning shapes, but for now we can
concentrate on just line quality.
By varying the outline weight of a leaf, the lighter lines retreat in space and the darker
ones advance. This is due to the fact that dark lines contrast more strongly on white paper than
do lighter lines that fade more into white paper. It is like carving into the unseen space of the
page. There are the inside lines of the veins, and one can draw these first instead of after drawing
the outline, or alternate inside to outside, sometimes even connecting them. Omitting some
parts of outlines will allow the plant to breathe with the space of the page.
It is well to not draw a subject in such a way that it looks like it may have been pasted on
the page. Nothing is ultimately forbidden in art, but now it is best to explore, and finding more
than one way to draw a leaf is valuable. Examining old master drawings will reveal how diligent
those artists were to employ line variety in their work. We can learn from them.
Now, what do we do when faced with a tree that has millions of leaves? We surely
would go mad trying to draw each leaf, so we must generalize. Generalizing is interpreting. It is
an abstract way of seeing reality. That is why there can be so many different ways to draw a tree
and still be right. The drawing is never the tree--it is an arrangement of dirty marks on clean
paper. (We draw, or take from reality.) Now we can abstract the leafy mass into a flat outline to
look like the candy part of a lollipop, and that would be the most primitive interpretation, so let
us find something more sophisticated.
Drawing the vague edges of what appear to be groups of leaves can be one way. Another
would be to speckle the page with short linear bursts to create patterns of groups. Some trees
have almost solid masses of leaves; others have open spaces, where parts of branches can be seen.
In any case, continue using what is now known about line variation, and use of varied rhythms
as well. Varied rhythm will add even more vitality to the subject, as can also be seen in the work
of master artists.
Lines can also be made to suggest surface tone by being drawn close together in a series--the closer the lines, the darker the impression. And as the lines are drawn further apart, they
make a surface feel lighter. Gradually changing the spacing can give a sense of a curved surface,
or make a feeling of moving back. Of course, multiple straight lines in a series gives a planar
effect and using curved lines the same way will give a rounded surface effect.
Up to now we have only been concerned with the sensitivity of the media. This is like a
singer having the ability to make his or her voice sound really good, or for a pianist to be able to
touch the keys of the piano in a way that makes the notes have feeling. Both these performers are
doing the same thing as we when we work with lines in space. They articulate sounds softly, or
loudly, strongly, or meekly, hesitantly, or boldly, stretched or staccato, and in different keys.
Those performances, however, would be of little value without a song or composition,
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and no one would want to write music if a good performance was not possible. Now, some
singers can compose and so can some pianists, though that is not typical. The visual artist,
however, with few exceptions, needs to be both composer and performer.
As a follow up homework assignment, I had my students draw from
simple stilllife subjects such as old sneakers, fruit in a bowl, or rumpled clothes. These classic subjects have
often been used in art history. They would also soon need to draw the human body in various
moods and poses, and to draw objects like machines, buildings, and furniture.
Art schools usually teach these subjects in separate classes, and I do not disagree with
this, but ultimately, all drawing is the same. All drawings must convey expression, individuality,
and sensitivity to form. That means that subject or subjects must be composed for a space and
doing that requires study of movement, balance, order, and philosophy. As it has been said—
“Art is long, and life is short.” But on we will go.
When I was a student, my teachers never personally demonstrated anything. All
critiques were verbal. That worked for me, but from my first days of teaching until now, I have
always personally demonstrated for my art classes. I do not believe students will become little
“Al Nasos.” I teach objective principles and explain how such principles can be deliberately
violated for purpose--emphasis on “deliberately,” but intuitively violated can also work.
An example could be this: If one rules that a composition must have a dominant, subdominant, and subordinate element to be successful, then a split-dominant composition would
be unacceptable. An easel painting of a mother holding a child while in a chair would be OK.
The mother is size dominant, the child is size sub-dominant, the chair is size subordinate.
However, through holding back the mother and chair by graying them and building strong
colors and contrasts to the child, the dominance can shift in spite of size relationships. Thus the
rule still holds, but in a different way.
However, if the artist were interested in expressing competitive dominance, such as two
armies in conflict, then that rule would have to be thrown out. The battle, itself, then becomes
the dominant subject, and everything within it becomes subordinate. Another example could be
the need to express a before and after concept such as—“What was I like before and how am I
now?” The before and after will be presented equally, but together make a statement, and it
works because it is a clear statement.
Ultimately, the rules have more to do with what an individual artist wants to say in a
composition than what any rigid academic rule demands. However, it is important to know the
rules because they provide various approaches for artists to consider in their expression and can
also provide guides when a work goes astray.
In working with students, the teacher may focus on a particular aesthetic to emphasize.
If the assignment is to draw a figure using rhythmic lines, then that should be the focus of the
critique after the drawing is completed. Comparing and discussing student successes with the
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concept can make it clearer, and if the teacher also demonstrates, that may help even more. Care
must be taken, however, to never be cruel in a critique. Something good can always be found and
should be noted in any critique, even if it goes off topic, because the class can learn much even
from that.
In conclusion, the art teacher needs to be patient, never dogmatic, and always kind. It is
not enough to have talent, verbal skills, and knowledge. The teacher’s humanity is as important
to convey as are his or her teachings and forged together should be what is most remembered
and valued by the students. At least, that would be my own aspiration.
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