How I feel when I’m sketching….reality often looks a lot more like a hunched Gollem creature muttering to itself with hands covered in graphite and eraser shavings falling out of the hair. Oh well, this is how I feel on the inside.
There is something that feels almost secret and wonderful about the joy of a sketch. The digital world has opened up an incredible wealth of tools that has allowed for so much accessibility for people to express themselves artistically. Digital mediums are a wonder and I delight in having such things at my disposal to use in my own work. All that being said, the secret delight (although I know that it’s not so very secret really) of the sketch is that it is simply accomplished with very mundane tools; pencil and paper. There is something inherently thrilling about looking at the strokes of someone’s pencil, seeing the way they capture things in their scratches and eraser marks. Truly, a sketch is a wonderful thing.
Now that I’m done waxing rhapsodic on this particular subject, let me get real; the sketch is a useful tool in some respects, but it definitely is a fluid and interpretive piece of information. In the case of a scenic design, a sketch can lie in certain ways. It’s often capturing only a very rudimentary view of the scenery (everyone is always sitting in perfect sight lines right?) , and scale is relative at best. A sketch allows a vast degree of squeezing and scraping and tweaking of perspective that isn’t always in compliance with the laws that govern reality. Compared with the granular accuracy that can be achieved with an in scale live model, or even a 3D rendering in a computer program, it’s a wonder that a sketch is still utilized at all.
Despite all this, I know that for me personally a physical pencil sketch will always be useful. I’ve had some kind of drawing thing in my hand since I was little. Too many things inside, had to get them out and fixed in stillness somehow. It’s still very much like that. After the research, I have to order the vast ecosystem of ideas into some semblance of stillness that will even stand a chance of making sense to a director, and even to myself. Before I can move into a ground plan or model, I have to order objects loosely, investigating if they even make basic sense in a sketch.
Think of the process like steps in the recipe; you don’t just take the raw ingredients, throw them in the oven and expect to get a cake. You need to go through the procedure. Every recipe makes a different treat, but all treats require similar steps of somehow combining raw ingredients together to create something different than the original. The sketch for me is the combining of the raw ingredients of the research and mixing them into the base batter/dough of my design. I can take a quick taste from that batter (you all do it, smile in solidarity and don’t judge) and tell if I need another dash of this or that before putting it in the oven. The sketch is the first taste test to show the director. Sometimes, you make multiple and you pick the one you like best. In this case, I drafted one set of sketches because I knew that we had to shift pretty quickly into the model.
Sometimes, the sketch can be pretty loose to start, only a rough gesture vaguely larger than thumbnail. I may occasionally show this type of sketch to a director depending on the situation, but often this type is reserved FDEO (For Designer Eyes Only)
Example of a loose sketch that I did for Act 4 of The Seagull
In the case of Little Shop, we went with a slightly more formalized process.
My sketch process is actually a hybrid of analog and digital. I start with a picture of the model box of the theatre with a scale figure and usually a piece of model furniture. This will help me establish a scale relative to the human figure (usually made at 6ft. tall because, you know, basically most humans are that height…..sure) and the model piece will help me establish my horizon line so I can keep my perspective (fairly, mostly, it’s chill) accurate.
I do a main sketch on trace paper by hand over this picture of the box; keeps everything within relative proportions. I then create multiple trace paper sketch layers of different set pieces that move in and out of that main sketch.
Base picture of my model box for the Jorgensen Theatre that I will trace over to establish fairly accurate proportions for the sketch.
Main Base Sketch for Little Shop, Skid Row envelope (pre-final Photoshop)
Shop Exterior sketch layer (pre-final Photoshop)
Shop Interior Sketch Layer (pre-final Photoshop)
At this point, I scan all the pieces into the computer and then begins the Photoshop magic. I won’t pretend I’m a marvelous expert in the world of all things Photoshop. However, I use the ten tools I do know to excellent advantage. I’m a mixed media girl at heart. I always say that you should use the best medium for the thing you’re trying to communicate. The basic forms and shading of my scenery is best communicated through analog materials of pencils and marker and then digital tools are remarkably good at emphasizing what is important about those forms in a format that reads beautifully across multiple platforms. I am often sending this information to my director and team digitally, so it is imperative that I do everything possible to ensure that my work is clear and effective when being seen that way.
In this, the sketch is wonderful because I can place the viewer exactly where I want. Sometimes photographing a model can get tricky because I can’t always get the camera exactly where is most ideal. In a sketch, I have full control over the viewpoint and that is a huge advantage, especially at the early stage.
For Little Shop, I built three sketches; the base envelop of Skid Row, the shop front, and the shop interior.
Final Sketch for Skid Row
Final Sketch Exterior
Final Sketch Shop Interior
I had a lot of fun building these. The sketch is one of my favorite parts in the process because it gets at all my favorite things about the way I make art; pencil to paper, mixed media, and then building composite collages of the pieces to make something new. The sketch does have its limits, but it’s crucial and dear to me in both my professional and personal artwork. I mean, come on, who doesn’t love a sweet little drawing?