FPC11: The Artist

Just something small for the competition, probably brought about from all the time I spend working on my AP Art projects. Hope you like it!

It was a breezy day in October. On sunny afternoons, I take my drawing board and supplies to a special spot in the field behind my house. I draw what I see around me. To the untrained eye, there is nothing of interest here, but to me, there are so many interesting textures and shapes and colors. 

I study the way the sun illuminates a blade of grass and exposes the veins running parallel to each other, like little highways for ants. Sam, my orange tabby cat, suns himself on an old stump. Today, I decide to sketch Sam, who rarely sits still long enough to be drawn.

I begin by lightly rendering the contours of his body. As I work, the breeze picks up again and ruffles his fur. I finish his outline quickly so that I can finish it before he decides to move.

When I complete the contour drawing, I decide to take a break. I don't want to accidentally rush the rest of the picture just because I had to work quickly to start. While I wait for my nerves to settle, I lay in the grass and let the sun warm my body. For some reason, I've always found this spot in the field relaxing. Nowhere else I go will ever be as magical as this on little spot, where everything is sacred and even the insects are beautiful.

Once I regain my composure, I begin adding the details to my drawing of Sam. I give his fur undertones of red and brown and put lots of yellow in his eyes. The hardest part is giving his fur texture. I want to make it look as soft as it is in real life so that the viewer will want to reach out and touch it. 

Some lines I blend into each other. Others stand out and draw the eye. I add small shadows of blue and purple to give my cat dimension. I use ink for the pupils to make sure that they're as black as I can make them. The wind tries to distract me by tugging on my hair and throwing bits of grass onto my paper, but I ignore it and continue my work.

At last, my drawing is complete and I unclip it from the board. I study it in the light to make sure my colors are perfect. When I finish my contemplation, I put it aside and begin drawing out a couple of dandelions on a fresh piece of paper. 

The wind takes advantage of my distraction and picks up my drawing. It carries the paper far out of my reach. I watch as it becomes a tiny, fluttering, smudge against the backdrop of the sky. Maybe the wind will carry it somewhere and leave it for someone else to admire. I don't need the picture, I have the real thing.

The End

5 comments about this story Feed