Many writers plough through a first draft of their fiction in a heat of creative energy. There may be a focusing theme, often a central protagonist, or perhaps a group of central characters, and a framing of the place, or setting, of a story.
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| Pencil Sketch on Drawing Paper |
The initial fast pacing seems all to the good--getting the creative impulse down where it can be studied for what might be needed to make it a better work of art. To broadly relate the idea of developing a work of fiction as one would do for a painting (see similar discussion in an earlier blog, on 8/23/2009), we can use the preliminary pencil sketch of a reclining woman model, shown here. The sketch was done during a twenty minute pose at a life drawing workshop. The idea is to make a rapid assessment of major forms and spatial relationships presented by the model's pose, then block in the shapes quickly on paper as one continually tests the alignments and proportions of the shapes. One can take some artistic license and depart from a photographic-like realism by selecting some particularly beautiful lines and accenting them in a sort of impressionistic way--perhaps by using a heavy charcoal line in places. It probably wouldn't be useful to dwell too long on any local regions of the body at this point of the painting, just as it might not be too useful to dwell overly long at any particular conflict resolution contained in the first draft of a fictional work.
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| Color Wash of Sketch on Drawing Paper |
A potentially more exciting phase of the creative work takes place as the artist or author assesses the preliminary work, and judges how better to amplify a potential for drama, by 1) using contrasts of light and dark shapes in the painting--or personalities in the fiction; 2) choosing a color palette for the painting--or mood for the fiction; and 3) studying how best to use such choices for creating eye movement or intellectual movement through the piece. (The painting here is still very preliminary--a color wash on the original drawing paper. Think perhaps of a first revision of a fiction draft. A finished painting would be done on heavier, watercolor paper, using the insights gained in the sketch and wash process.)
Of course, it is not suggested that a writer use all these things in any rigorous checklist; however, if one took time to occasionally consider such analogies for telling a story in a painting and in a story, the insights might become part of a subconscious tool kit for creating a more dramatic and coherent work.
Lately, I've been re-reading Alex Powers' art book, "Painting People in Watercolor--a design approach," a favorite of mine, and thought about how similar in approach the design of a good story might be to the design of a good painting. Both furnish aesthetic experiences for a reader/viewer, and it might not be too surprising if they both shared some conceptual elements.
After covering a lot of design ground, Powers sums up four essential elements in his most successful paintings: 1) less subject; 2) bigger shapes; 3) darker values; and 4) faster painting (for livelier paint quality). If I can translate this to writing, some fiction presents numerous characters, place settings, and motifs or plots, an overall busyness, which can make reading more of a mental challenge than an aesthetic experience. The 'bigger shapes' criteria is related to fiction, because our right-brain attention may be challenged to discover focal points that can illuminate a story, when all the settings seem to demand equal attention. The darker values proposition is related to many artists' tendencies to paint their shapes in a narrow, unexciting range of light to middle value hues (colors), whereas the more adventureous, and aesthetically pleasing paintings will include a vivid use of glowing darks. Finally, the faster painting admonition can remind writers that perhaps the originality and energy of a story may be drained by a constant 'noodling,' and 'toning-down,' of any risky material.
I decided to select some classic short fiction piece and work backwards to visualize how a writer's vision might show some affinity with Powers' design principles. Ernest Hemingway's "Hills Like White Elephants," a strong, aesthetic reading experience, seemed to surface as a candidate immediately. So here goes. The opening paragraph of the story seemed to contain all the design shapes needed for the story:
The hills across the valley of the Ebro were long and white. On this side there was no shade and no trees and the station
was between two lines of rails in the sun. Close against the side of the station there was the warm shadow of the building
and a curtain, made of strings of bamboo beads, hung across the open door into the bar, to keep out flies. The American
and the girl with him sat at a table in the shade, outside the building. It was very hot and the express from Barcelona would
come in forty minutes. It stopped at this junction for two minutes and went to Madrid.
Hemingway offers all of the important shapes for a painting in his opening paragraph. The initial sketch includes the two main characters, the long, white hills with no shade or trees, and an abstraction of the railroad track leading away, toward Madrid. The river is suggested by another shape. The sketch might also have shown the couple sitting in shade outside the bar, waiting for their train, but it might introduce too much subject matter--too busy. Small shapes, like table and chairs, might weaken the composition, as in 2).
Some of the initial value range is established here, using warm hues to suggest the heat. The reflected white glare of the hilltops in sunlight suggest the white elephants fancied by the girl, Jig.
Aesthetically, the painting seems to be holding together well thus far. This is a digital painting, using Corel X watercolor tools, and is a lot more forgiving of mistakes than traditional watercolor painting. The eye moves through the painting from the lower right, over the 'paper-doll' silhouettes of the figures--our focal point--and leaves over the hills at the top.
Some of the values are further darkened, and the small format for the blogging images suggested that might be enough. A little decoration in the form of painting splatter is added, whimsically representing the scatter of dialog between Jig and her partner as they contemplate whether Jig will go through with an abortion.
The man is confident an abortion will be safe, reasonable, and allow them to continue a happy relationship. Jig wants to believe him, but seems ruefully uncertain, right up until the train arrives.
I think most of the major aesthetic shapes of the story are captured in the painting, but the complete aesthetic experience afforded by the intellectual impacts of the couple's dialog can only be experienced by reading and pondering Hemingway's story.
Nonetheless, I think a writer could benefit by visualizing his story as a composition of major shapes, shaded in a range of values that achieve some harmonious balance of importance, and containing language poised to achieve the promise of his vision's selected focal point.
