Observation of Nature
Camera versus sketching
by Stefan Baumann
I
am amazed by the photographic technology available to
capture a moment. Digital photography has become a part
of America's collective experience, and I too have reluctantly
jumped on the bandwagon, although I have refrained from
swapping out my trusted 35mm camera. Over the years, I
have invested thousands of dollars in camera equipment
to capture vistas from around the world, and hundreds
of hours compiling the photographic collection that resulted.
Slides were my format of choice and I have a tremendous
library of binders filled with thousands of images. They
are on a gigantic shelf in my basement. I have seen most
of the images twice; initially the moment I snapped the
photo, and then when I filed it into the binder....20
years ago. I would snap these photos in the hope of someday
returning to these locations in my studio. But there they
remain, waiting for their destiny on a gigantic shelf
in my basement.
In an era when there is too much to see and not enough
time to see it, we find ourselves recording everything,
without ever really seeing anything. We overlook the soul
of a subject and never connect to the view. Excuses like
"I don't have enough time to do it" or "my
spouse is in a hurry and does not want to wait for me",
are the motivating factors for not painting on location.
People, including artists, jump out of a car to snap a
photo, then jump back into the car and hurry off to the
next phenomenal vista.
Since I started my art career early in life, I have developed
a keen sense of retrospection and often ask myself the
universal question; "If I had to do it all over,
what would I do differently?” My answer? “Take
fewer pictures.”
I'm amazed by the volumes of work that Bierstadt, Moran
and Church did in their lifetime. How could these men
have been so prolific? Their location reality warranted
arduous journeys, traveling only a short distance each
day, and yet they created phenomenal bodies of work in
their lifetime.
The answers lie in the constraints of their placement
in history: They were forced to realize the importance
of the moment and worked accordingly. Most of the time,
they did not have cameras, and when they did, they were
limited by the number of B/W (not color) images they could
pack out of the back country. The skill they cultivated
in themselves was the end product, and it was removed
from the vicarious need of memory chips, camera filters,
and classes to understand f/stops.
These men relied on the field sketch to record their
experiences. Their placement in history forced them to
be present, and to objectively look at what was before
them. They developed their drawing skills in the field,
capturing a vistas color gradient and value on location.
Their knowledge evolved with the field sketch, not the
Polaroid, and as a result, their studio work reflected
the objective beauty that only location painting can teach.
Painting direct from nature was, and continues to be complimented
by symbiotic virtues; being present with ones own vision,
and cultivating a divine dialogue with nature.
A contemporary practice of these classic principles will
develop in you, an understanding of nature like you have
never known. Next time you travel, leave your camera at
home, and bring only your sketchbook. Communicate with
nature; document the details of the journey, both large
and small. You will return with sketches that offer timeless
lessons to both your spirit, and your art.
If it is worth taking a picture of, it's worth
creating a sketch.
