Friday, April 15, 2011

Artists and Others Still Tote Sketchbooks to Museums

The Age-Old Practice of Copying Masters is Alive and Well

Washington D.C.—The painter Paul Cezanne did it in Paris, and even the humble art student today can do it anywhere that the opportunity arises. This is the occasion of going to a museum to sketch and copy from masterpieces.
            While living in Paris, Cezanne simply shuffled down to the Louvre or the the Luxembourg Museum to study the masters. Sometimes he would copy them to learn the ropes. Other times, stuck on a painting problem in his studio, Cezanne would head back to the museum to see how other painters had achieved various painterly effects, such as a shadow or arm gesture.
            In Paris, of course, painters have been doing this for the past 150 years. American artists today count themselves lucky to have a great museum nearby to do the same. In the nation's capital, for example, anyone can go to the National Gallery of Art on the National Mall and experience something like Paris. Admission is free, so the gallery is a regular home to sketchers and copyists. By prior arrangement, a painter may pull up an easel and copy paintings in oil (the easels are already out, and painters store their material in museum lockers).
            Drawing forays are more common, as was the case one spring day with David Perry, a photography student at the Northern Virginia Community College in Alexandria. On the lower level of the National Gallery, Perry had arrived to draw what he saw at two exquisite exhibitions: the Chester Dale collection of mostly Impressionists and early modernists (Degas, Matisse, and Picasso, for example), and the Armand Hammer collection of drawings, which includes draftsmanship by Raphael, Leonardo da Vinci, and Van Gogh.
            Perry says that by looking at such great works, he is learning about line, composition, and technique. “I notice how something is done with an upstroke or down stroke, or done with more or less pressure, in how the lines move,” he says. As a photographer, he’s more a “composition person” than a line person. Either way, for his Drawing 101 class, Perry is there to complete an assignment: do five drawings each from the Dale and Hammer collections. Then write a short explanation of each of the ten sketches.
            The benefit of sketching from the masters is getting around. In New York, medical students have often been taken to sketch from works at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The idea is that attempts to describe things by drawing them sharpens the mental skills of observation and analysis.
            Back at the National Gallery, one floor above where David Perry is sketching, another artist, an oil painter named Lee (a resident of Virginia and wife to a successful real estate professional) is copying works in the maze of rooms that display classical European paintings. For twenty years, she has parked an easel and paint box somewhere in the National Gallery, recreating on her blank canvases Italian landscapes, Impressionist classics, and Dutch floral paintings.
            Lee earned her master’s degree in medical anatomy, but working in oils has become her pursuit. She has completed about 75 copies of paintings, either for friends or as commissions, coming in once a week for about a four hour session. Lee is a “certified copyist.” This status is open to anyone who can provide letters of recommendation and examples of their work. For a visitor, Lee shows her latest Copyist’s Permit, a folded piece of paper issued in 2005.
            On this particular day, Lee is copying the 1785 landscape “Fanciful View of the Castle St. Angelo, Rome” by Francesco Guardi, a Venetian painter. She prefers him over Canaletto, also a Venetian landscapist, who happens to be the topic of a special exhibit (“Canaletto and his Rivals”) elsewhere in the National Gallery this season.
            “I always start with drawing,” Lee says. To focus on a particular painting for several weeks, she must make an appointment. This ensures that the painting is on the wall for the duration, since paintings are often rotated or loaned to other museums for special exhibits.
            As Lee paints, it is not uncommon for children to stop and watch. They invariably ask her questions. One time, about ten years ago, the singer Tony Bennett pulled up by her side. He too was an artist by avocation, a proud Italian. He showed her his sketchbook, as she recalls.

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