To become an artist, one should learn from the masters. So, with a thirty-dollar credit to adult education’s The Learning Annex and a free Sunday morning , I signed up for “Drawing at the Met.”The course description said the class would cover “Light and Shadow,” “Perspective” and “Color,” which all sounded fine, but a lot to do in just two hours. Armed with my graphite pencils, fat eraser and blank sketchbook, I hailed a cab, directing the driver as if I were simply going to brunch: “The Met, please.” (A few blocks later, self-conscious I was being too cavalier, I added: “Not the opera one.”)
The entrance to the Metropolitan Museum of Art is a sight — steps up to a Greco-Roman façade, beneath proud banners announcing exhibits spanning the centuries. At the information desk, two students had arrived, but not yet our group leader. After about ten minutes, Ralph showed up and introduced himself, apologizing for being late, and said we could run a little over to make up for it. Like any art student, I compared his looks to my expectations: clean cut for an artist, thirty-something, handsome, khakis, blue checkerboard oxford and a pair of severe black eye frames.
Trying to be friendly, I shook hands with the three other students: Joel, friendly, fortyish (this was Joel’s third session “Drawing at the Met” -- or second, if you don’t count the time he showed up but went to the wrong desk downstairs and missed the class); Umberto, fiftiesh with a lovely accent; and a young twenty-something woman with frizzy hair who chose not to reveal her name. Mystery is part of the arts, I reasoned, and this is, after all, the scene of the “Thomas Crowne Affair.”
In the Cezanne room in the Impressionist wing. Ralph directed us to choose a painting to draw. He imparted one piece of wisdom: Grip your pencil unlike a pencil so you don’t think too hard.
Confused but excited, I scanned the room of elegant still-lifes, lush landscapes and semi-famous portraits and asked Ralph if we should pick one or the other – for learning purposes, simplicity or otherwise? Ralph looked at me quixotically and said no, it didn’t matter, they were, after all, ALL PAINTINGS.
I thought back to the course description which said Ralph has taught anatomy and perspective. So, seeking to impress, I choose Cezanne’s “Card Players,” a painting of three peasants playing cards with one onlooker. It seemed to have a compelling story about friendship, socioeconomics, and gambling — not to mention it could be drawn sitting down from the bench.
So, on the wood bench in the center of the room, I sat down to copy this piece of art while the other students sought their own muse. Not knowing where to begin, and lacking any direction whatsoever from my well-dressed teacher, I relied on my honed skills from a previous expedition last year with The Learning Annex into art: Cartooning.
I first drew four fat ovals to indicate placement of the four people in the painting. Then, I drew one big square for the card table and small triangles for their noses and ears. For those of you who are neophytes, this is technically known as “blocking.” Or, wait, is that theatre? Over the next fifteen minutes, I refined my sketching and, to my amazement (as well as a tourist next to me), the four people and their scene began to emerge.
Ralph appeared over my shoulder and was pleased. He said, “You are drawing almost like a pro – confident lines, strong perspective…”
Pro?!?! Humbly, I admitted I had taken drawing classes before. He asked where, and assuming childhood classes at the Summit Art Center were not relevant, I said, “Oh through the Learning Annex also: Cartooning for Beginners.” Probably not recognizing the course, Ralph frowned, but offered advice on tone and contrast. He also suggested I get off my duff and get much closer to the painting.
Back up at the wall, I surveyed the room to see how the rest of the class was faring. Umberto drew feverishly, close to his chosen work, a Cote D’Azur landscape; he was chatting with Ralph, seemingly less getting advice and more just talking about art. The woman with no name was barely drawing, moving from picture to picture, still undecided on one. Joel was no where to be seen.
Returning fifteen minutes later, catching me back down at the bench, Ralph didn’t scold but was excited at my progress. “The drawing is coming along nicely,” he said, but was concerned I was thinking about the elements in the painting too much as separate elements. “Think about the negative space within the painting, as well as the continuous lines that let one element flow into the other.”
Perhaps I had a blank look on my face, or maybe I was thinking about lunch, but Ralph suggested I try an old trick of his. “Sometimes,” he explained, “it helps to squint at the work and you see things you wouldn’t otherwise.”
Well, I’ve never been one to turn down an inside tip, so together, in what was probably a storied teacher-student moment (I’ll need to again rent “Pollack”), Ralph and I together squinted at the Cezanne across the way.
Admittedly, I didn’t see much new, but my eyes did get tired, so I nodded gravely that I understood the value of the exercise, thanked him. Getting up to go see about the other students, Ralph told me we would get together at the end to share with each other our work and what we each had learned.
Quite comfortable I was clearly the favorite student, I got back to work with urgency, filling in details on the card table, fixing the men’s hats, and with flourish, drawing more confident dark continuous lines. (Joel, after all, has done the class TWICE.)
Ten minutes later, around the bench, the class gathered. Ralph offered the girl with no name to present her work first, but she declined, uncomfortable with what she had done. I was going to pressure her, but reasoned that maybe she was just there meet guys and perhaps hadn’t drawn anything anyway.
So veteran Joel showed what he drawn, a Renoir still life of fruit. Good varied color, nice black lines. We all offered smiles, encouragement and praise. Umberto then shared his landscape, which was really getting somewhere, and I think he would’ve made better progress if he had spent more time drawing and less time talking to Ralph.
Then I showed my drawing, which got rave reviews, modest applause from Joel, several questions from Umberto, and even a public compliment from Ralph.
Umberto then turned back to Ralph and unleashed a battery of questions on perspective and depth, for the first five of which I stayed. Eventually, though, I needed to eat and interrupted to say goodbye, thanking Ralph and everyone profusely and somewhat genuinely.
At the door, about to enter the Degas room, I was compelled to turn around and observe the group still huddled around the bench. Umberto was asking a question, Joel was listening intently, Ralph was trying to answer, and the woman with no name was looking elsewhere across the room.
I was quite tempted to sit and draw.
