Snap Pea
On Choices and Surrender
One of the things I love about sketching as an art form is the elegant simplicity. Too often, we can fall into believing that more is better just on principle, or that we aren’t a “real” artist unless we are creating works with all the tools known to man. The reality is that it takes just as much artistry to develop a simplistic sketch as it does to develop a photo-realistic landscape. It’s all about balance.
The Old Masters knew this well as they developed sketches and artworks with the “trois crayons” method of art-making. In trois crayons, the artist works with a limited palette of black charcoal, reddish-brown sanguine clay, and white chalk. On toned1 paper, depending on how those three colors are combined, how the artist chose to tiptoe along the tightrope, the final product may suggest a variety of other hues, including blue and pink.
The harmony they achieved with such a limited palette is pleasing to the eye even several centuries later.
In many ways, this purposful curation of tools and space mirrors the intentional pursuit of joy in the Christian walk. We are called to die to self, to pick up our cross, and follow Him2, just as many of the Old Masters eschewed a paintbox full of complex pigments in favor of three simple ones. We make choices every day on whether to pursue the things of the world, or to pursue the One who made it.
Those of us who choose the One find a Kingdom’s wealth of possibilities at our fingertips, even ones we may not expect (like blue or pink out of brown, black, and white).
In much the same way I responded with joy upon discovering this new-to-me method of art-making, the discovery that the seemingly lesser choice Jesus offers us actually brings us expansion and abundance is often accompanied by joy and wonder. In order to re-discover this technique of the Old Masters, I had to lay down my preconceived notions about art and being an artist. I had to open myself to the idea that maybe, just maybe, this ‘messy’ medium might be worth checking out more. I had to surrender the couldas, the shouldas, and the wouldas of being a legitimate artist.
And the delight of watching it all come together was more than worth the price of every notion and idea I laid down. Because now? Now innumerable artworks yet to be made stretch out before me, in the beauty and style I desired all along.
“Pisum sativum,” 12x18 inches; charcoal, sanguine, and chalk.
$300 US
Paper that is not white. Usually, refers to paper that is traditionally tan, brown, grey, or some shade in between. Today, colored papers come in any shade you like, including black.
Matthew 16:24-26