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5/31/23 Green Lake neighborhood |
Urban couch season is now open, and I bagged my first
last week! I must have been slackin’ all summer, because the last one I sketched was more than a year ago. I’m ready – bring ‘em!
As I sketched this, enjoying 61 degrees and a soft breeze in
the sunshine, three thoughts occurred to me: One was that in years past when my
palette was tied more closely to “real” colors, with rare exceptions, almost
all discarded couches were dingey, dirty brown (or formerly some lighter
color but brown by the time I sketched it) – talk about sketching mud! This one
was too, but using a secondary triad, I was able to get a slightly more vibrant
dingey, dirty brown.
Secondly, I thought about how couches make excellent exercises
in perspective. Most are basically cubic rectangles with some parts missing (especially
if they are lumpy and misshapen), but if you draw them from an angle, it’s quite
a challenge. In describing her new online course devoted to teacups, Liz Steel mentions that teacups present a good challenge in drawing ellipses.
Maybe I should teach a course on drawing urban couches with perspective as a
topic. 😉
Finally, making this sketch made me think about the importance
of context in visual storytelling. People new to Urban Sketchers often ask
whether something like a potted plant qualifies as an urban sketch if it was
drawn from direct observation. I think these two parts of the Urban Sketchers Manifesto address the question:
- Our drawings tell the story of our surroundings, the places we live, and where we travel.
- Our drawings are a record of time and place.
Nothing in the manifesto explicitly prohibits a potted plant
as subject matter for an urban sketch, but the question is always about the
story (no matter how small that story may seem). Does the sketch tell
you anything about where the potted plant was when you sketched it – on your own patio, on
the porch of a derelict building, in front of an Italian villa? Let’s see the
context that shows those location details, and then you’re telling a story.
As for my sketch above, imagine if I had sketched only the
couch. It could be in my own livingroom, in my friend’s livingroom, or at the city
dump. Or it could be on a residential street near Green Lake where, unfortunately,
it’s unlikely to be claimed because the street is closed for pavement work, so no
pickup trucks will be able to get to it. But without context, you’d never know
it was the latter.