Since I practice two separate but related disciplines, I am very aware of the commonalities and differences in the process of each. For me, graphic design tends to be more evolutionary in that I start with concept sketches and develop from there. My illustration process is a bit different, because I almost always have the image complete in my imagination before I begin to sketch it on paper. Things may change a bit as I go, but generally speaking I iterate an image onto paper rather than explore and develop options. This is true whether it’s created for a client’s project or for myself.

My illustration of the Lion of Judah, an icon of both Judaism and Christianity, was no exception. I saw this painting fully-formed in my mind and then brought it into being on paper. I made a couple of sketches first, then enlarged and transferred the drawing to watercolor paper.

The concept sketch:

The finished work created in watercolor, gouache and colored pencil on paper:

Some background on the work: Judah means praise. Judah was one of the twelve sons of Jacob and it was out of his line that Jesus Christ came. Judah was referred to as a lion in Genesis, and it is the Lion of Judah, referring to Jesus Christ, who is worthy to open the scroll in Revelation.

One row forward and three seats over.
I did this quick sketch in about 10 minutes in my sketchbook during a seminar.

This is the concept rough from my sketchbook, which is not finished enough to be considered a comp, and the finished artwork. The illustration was created in watercolor, gouache and colored pencil, on Arches 140#.

Most depictions of David, the hero king of Israel in the Old Testament, show him fighting Goliath of Gath. A few show him in his later years, and several tell the story of his affair and murderous cover up. In reading about David’s life, he comes across as an all around flawed hero: determined, passionate, sometimes fearful, as capable of screwing up as each of us is, but always trusting in God. I decided to portray David as an intense, visionary and epic young man who was aware of his destiny but sometimes unsure he would achieve it.

The illustration was done for a packaging project – a wrap-around cover for a CD album. The “five smooth stones” are on the back of the package where the audio titles will be placed.

My concept sketch for David illustration and CD album cover

Finished Illustration in watercolor, gouache and colored pencil

People who see me drawing often remark that they wish they could draw better. I hear this from my students fairly often. My response is simple: “Draw.” A lot of people who should don’t consider drawing to be all that important. They’re designers or photographers and don’t understand the technical and observational acumen that results from drawing and how it will enhance their design skill or photographic eye.

Drawing slows you down. When you draw, you’re taking time to look at something, to analyze it and reproduce it. You’re not simply setting up to capture it and move on to the next image. You become very aware of form, proportion and color. You come to understand light and shadow and how they reveal and define form. This awareness translates to any visual pursuit.

For those who want to draw better, here are a few recommendations:

1. Go draw something. Repeat.
Practice leads to improvement. You won’t get any better unless you engage in the attempt. The more you draw the more confident you’ll become.

2. Look at drawings.
Whether simple line drawings or meticulously detailed renderings, you can learn a lot from looking at the work of others. How did they use line and shape? How did they shade?

3. Draw from drawings.
This may sound peculiar, but what can you learn by copying a Da Vinci or Michaelangelo sketch? Tons. Learn from the masters by copying them. Really. They won’t mind.

4. Draw from photographs.
For most people, it’s easier to reproduce an image that’s already two-dimensional than reproduce an actual object, person or environment. When you’re working from photos, look at edges, shapes and angles. Don’t trace. Draw.

5. Draw from life.
If you’re just starting out, pick simple objects and work your way up to complex ones. Go ahead and try your and at drawing people and your pets. Draw your furniture and your living spaces. Do you enjoy coffee? Draw your coffee cup. Here’s a challenge: draw your hand. Hands and feet are the most complex parts of your anatomy and are readily available subject matter. If you can master these, you’ll pretty much be able to draw anything.

6. Take a class.
A class will keep you accountable. A teacher will correct your weaknesses. Watching others draw is immensely beneficial for building your own observational skills. Where do you find a class? Check your local university extension, community adult school, YMCA or community college. Another source is your local art supply store, where artists post notices of drawing meet-ups, uninstructed sessions with models, or private instruction.

7. Keep a sketchbook. Meaning, keep it with you, open it up and work at filling it. It will serve as a reminder to grab your pencil or pen and do some drawing. Join the ranks of Moleskine or Field Notes afficiandos, or simply pick up a sketchbook at your office or art supply store.

8. Be intentional. This is the hardest thing, because if you want to improve at anything, you must decide to do it. You need to make a commitment and even schedule regular time in your week or your day to pursue drawing. In order to become better at it you need to make a habit of it.

I think it’s also important to understand why you desire or need to draw. For me, it supports my work, but it’s also something that provides a lot of pleasure. I simply enjoy drawing. It’s foundational to my painting and my design, and it’s foundational to who I am. I find that drawing something or someone makes that thing or person more important to me. As I come to understand the thing as I draw it, I can perceive how it was formed and why. That leads to greater perceptions altogether.

And for those who tell me that they can’t draw a straight line, I can’t, either. I use a ruler for that.

“Sequoia, In Part” – a pencil sketch of my dog, found in a sketchbook.

I am currently in the concept stages of a logo development project. I always begin in my sketchbook, doodling forms and symbols, playing with shapes, sizes and letter forms until things start to connect. I go a long way with my pencil before I boot up my computer. Yesterday, as I was in this process, I kept remembering an icon I had drawn in a sketchbook several years ago. It wasn’t part of any particular project, it was simply a doodle.

So I took a break from my concepts and pulled out my stack of recent sketchbooks, paging through them one by one. These books go back about ten years, and as I looked at each page, I began to reminisce. Each drawing was, in a way, like a photograph: a memory sketched rather than caught. Some books included drawings by my daughter in her early years. Some of those were pictures we drew together. We used to play a game in which one of us would draw a line or a shape and the other would build on it with a line or shape, and we’d alternate back and forth until we either filled up the page or finished the drawing. 

As I looked and reminisced, I thought about where I was when I made each sketch – whether it was preliminary for a client project, or a record of a place, like Yosemite, a portrait of someone, quick sketches of my dogs. I recalled conversations, thoughts, locations, feelings… my general frame of mind and stage of life when each sketch was made.

I was struck by how different it is to take a photograph of something than to sketch it. Photographs are more separated and distant to me. They’re captured. WIth my camera I am more concerned with composing the shot, framing, bracketing and lighting and with the technical issues of focal length and f-stops. The approach is more analytical, and the image is captured in an instant.

Drawing and painting, in contrast, are built over time. They each are developed line by line or shape by shape. When I sketch or paint, I am concerned with composing, with form, light and shadow, angles, gesture, contour, color, texture…  but my mind can go wandering off and return again. In the time it takes to make a drawing, I get to know my subject. If a person, I can converse and observe. If an object, I memorize its contours and details. The slowness of the process allows me time to muse, contemplate and reflect. I literally can look at an old drawing and remember what I was pondering while I was making it. I don’t do that so much with photographs.

Needless to say, I revisited a large chunk of my life yesterday. I’m glad to say that most of my recollections were good ones: of a young girl now grown and gone, of people who are no longer on earth, of my dogs when they were pups, of places I haven’t been in awhile,  of design projects I’d forgotten about, of certain trees and forms that simple caught my eye.

I found the doodle I was seeking. It was in the fourth book in the pile, toward the back. And you know what? When I found it, I put that book aside and picked up the next one, and then the next, and kept going until I had finished looking through all of them.

©2009 Alvalyn Lundgren

Last weekend I was over at the local Borders bookstore and cafe. I sat down with my sketchbook and began drawing the folks at the table in the center of the room. They were all older, and were discussing films and the movie industry, spending a good portion of their conversation contrasting the three Pride and Prejudice movies (Lawrence Olivier, Colin Firth and Keira Knightly versions). I overheard their conversation as I drew, beginning with this gentleman. By the time I had finished drawing him, all but one of his companions had left. He was left alone talking about engineering with a lanky Asian who had recently joined the group.

So at least I got the guy captured on paper. One thing I remember about him was that he didn’t sit still… he was constantly fidgeting and changing positions. And he never looked my way or gave me a full profile. 

By the way, the best Pride and Prejudice opus in my book? The BBC miniseries with Colin Firth.

By straddling two “worlds” in my design practice, I often think about one of them while engaging in the other. For instance, while working on a design project, I’ll be musing over the illustration in progress over there on my drafting table. And when I’m in my illustration mode, I’ll be considering the next step in my design process for a web site or a book design.

In my musings and considerations I’ve noticed that the creative process is somewhat different for each pursuit. Although the same considerations are involved in each, the point at which they come in the development process is different.

I begin a design project with pencil and paper (even if it’s a web site). I work out a bunch of ideas, dealing with color, proportion, shape relationships, balance, etc. even in this sketch stage. I refine my ideas and then move to the computer to produce them. Most of the problem-solving is done before I begin developing the final artwork. By the time it’s in digital form most of the kinks have been worked out, most of the aesthetic and functional decisions have been made, and I have a clear path to follow in creating the finished work.

Not so with illustration. Given a concept or story to tell, I make some rough sketches and refined comps, select the best to tell the story and then scaled up transferred to my board  (usually Strathmore 4-ply or Arches 300# watercolor paper). Once the drawing is committed to the paper, I’m ready to apply the paint. That’s when the decision making process really begins. I seem to make more judgements at this stage – in which I am developing the finished artwork. Color scheme and temperature, value relationships, textural contrasts, maintaining the integrity of the drawing, balance, etc. are all ongoing considerations until I can call the work finished.

In a design project, I generally determine color in the beginning stages. Making a painting may require a firm color decision early on, but not always. These decisions are made and can change as I progress further into the work.

It’s an interesting contrast for me – where the weight of decision falls in each of these creative processes. In one it’s toward the beginning, and in the other it’s toward the end.

Ink sketch by Alvalyn Lundgren. ©2009.

I seldom get bored in meetings. There is always something or someone that catches my interest and I begin to doodle. A quick sketch of Laszlo, who was listening attentively to the guy with the microphone, occupied a few minutes of my time. Then I turned to a new page and drew someone else.

Stearns Wharf, Santa Barbara ©2008

I enjoy watching people. My frequent jaunts upcoast often include visits to piers where there is an abundance of both commercial and private fishing activity.

This was one of two young men who evidently spend a lot of weekend hours fishing from the pier. He takes his catch home to his family in a 10-gallon painter’s bucket. From the amount of fish already in the bucket I deduced he was having a very good day.

I’m getting into the habit of keeping my sketchbook close at hand all the time. I take it with me to my design classes at UCLA because a lot of times it’s easier to sketch a point than explain it verbally. The students will watch me draw and their light bulbs start flashing. Oh, duh!

I sketch fellow students in a class I’m taking. I aim to be unobtrusive and I try to avoid staring at my subjects while I’m drawing them. One thing I noticed is that, while most people will quickly realize when a camera is being pointed at them, they will be less aware of being drawn. They think I’m just taking copious notes. Most of the time they won’t notice at all until the person next to me happens to glance at my book and exclaim, “Oh! That’s Rick. You drew Rick.” And then, of course, Rick will have to come check it out when class ends. A lot of conversations have started this way, because of something I drew in my sketchbook. It’s almost like a social networking app, but in person and with less technology.

A few weeks ago someone sitting near me (who doesn’t know me) asked to look at my book and commented, “Hey, did you every think about doing this for a living?”