I began January with a goal to draw/paint/sketch 100 humans, and week two of 2019 was a big leap in that direction. I am up to 84 now.
As you can see, there are a few styles explored this week: Sharpie ladies with gobs of hair and very stylized features that remind me of the doodles my mother used to draw while she was on the phone, gesture studies of bodies in motion, anatomy studies, and loose charcoal sketches of beautiful people in more formal poses.
I'm doing this because I don't have much practice rendering the human form or features, and the only way to fix that is by putting in the time. I again employed the fail-to-success method, and there is a fat stack of castoffs on my art room floor that prove how many (double-digit!) attempts it took until some of the images in front of me finally resembled a human.
I believe in practice because I do not believe in talent. By far, the greatest identifier and most laudable achievement of my art journey is simply that I'm a practitioner. That's it. I have no idea what I'm doing on any given day, but the humiliation I experience through earnest practice and experimentation is filled with color and meaning. It is a frayed and unraveled string I tug at frequently because I have to; I tug at it frequently because it is the connective tissue between me and the big picture.
"Every beauty which is seen here below by persons of perception resembles more than anything else that celestial source from which we all are come." -- Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni