D is for the Discipline of Seeing ~ Guest Post by Marcia Lee Laycock

“Don’t expect me to learn to draw.” I shook my head at the art instructor. “I couldn’t draw a decent stick figure to save my life.”  

The man smiled. “I’ll have you drawing well by Christmas.”

“Don’t bet on it.”

 His smile broadened. “I love a good challenge.” 

I had decided to enroll in the small art college in my hometown while spending some time with my parents for the winter. I wanted to learn how to do pottery and weaving. I was not impressed when they told me I would have to take the drawing class as well. So I decided to be blunt with that instructor on that first day. As I recall I also told him not to expect me to be on time. The class was at 8:00 in the morning. I was not a morning person. 

But that instructor was patient and gentle and very creative in finding ways to engage his students. He started us off with some interesting still-life objects, then brought in a variety of live models – from a pregnant woman to a clown in full costume. Even when it was a straightforward still life, he challenged us to engage in the “discipline of seeing” and studying the subject that was before us. 

In time I was amazed at what I had never seen before, in the simplest of things – how the lines of a potted plant curve and reach for the sun, how a woman’s eyebrow arches in a way that is truly beautiful, how a man’s eyes change with the light and can reveal his inner thoughts. Time seemed to stand still. Three hours seemed like five minutes, and I became absorbed in the process. It didn’t take long before I began to love it. I was almost always on time for class. 

I especially enjoyed an exercise the instructor called ‘line drawing.’ In this form, we were told not to look down at the page and not to lift the pencil until we were finished. It was an exercise in seeing and I once again was amazed at what it revealed. 

It was some time later that I realize these exercises had also made me a better writer. Because I was forced to draw, I was forced to study the subject, to observe what was truly there. What I began to see began to come out in what I wrote.

For instance, this – 

Line Drawing 

Graphite feeds

a soft black line onto white.

I must never look away

but move my hand around his form

continuously, smooth reality

into art

starting with the chair, his chair,

high backed, footrest up,

my line edges his leg, bends over his knee,

unnatural angle

of one leg broken long ago.

I loosen my grip,

loop the folds of his sweater, baggy,

over his arm, descend to the

hand, short-lined fingers curled,

pipe cradled in the palm.

one quick stroke cuts

across his stomach, belting him in

then softens again to fold the other arm

and onto his shoulder, slouched,

the chin on chest,

glasses forward, I round his nose

sweep back his hair in

one final black wave

the flow of line is over

but I dare not look away,

aware

I have begun to see.

I have created

my father.

 

I will be forever thankful for that drawing instructor, that he didn’t toss this cheeky first-year student out of his class, but persevered and taught me, not just how to draw, but how to engage in the discipline of seeing.

Marcia Lee Laycock is a Christian writer/speaker/teacher whose work has been endorsed by Mark Buchanan, Jeanette Oke, Sigmund Brouwer.  Visit her website to learn more.