What drawing teaches us about seeing

I first went to art college in Middlesbrough in the North of England. The course was called a Foundation and was housed in a draughty Victorian building. The course was a year, and the idea was to try out some of the disciplines offered on an art degree and then specialise in the area we thought we might apply for.

One of the things I will always feel grateful for is the emphasis on drawing. We had mandatory evening drawing classes twice a week, plus weekly life drawing. I was terribly sheltered and provincial. The first time we attended life drawing, I had absolutely no idea what that meant. I was stunned when the lady in the tatty dressing gown dropped it. Gob smacked would be an appropriate description.I absolutely loved life drawing and once spent a 3-hour session drawing an elbow.

Our drawing tutors were all men. I assume they had attended art college themselves in the 1950s, 60s and 70s. They were serious about drawing, and we were taught rigorously and technically.I distinctly remember being told, "You have to learn to see before you can draw."In classic art school style at the time, nobody bothered explaining what that actually meant. There was a certain cachet in being as obtuse as possible. But it stayed with me because he was completely correct. Although explaining it would have helped.

Our brains take shortcuts every day on our behalf. They have to. The amount of visual information our eyes and brain process is enormous, and most of it is surplus to requirements for keeping us alive and functioning. When we observe the world with the intention of drawing it, we have to short-circuit some of those shortcuts. We have to begin paying attention differently. Learning to see is not simply looking harder. It is learning to notice relationships and comparisons. How large is that flower compared to the vase? How dark is that leaf compared to the branch? What shape exists in the space around an object? What colour is actually there rather than what I think should be there?

Anyone learning to draw makes mistakes. Usually not because they lack ability, but because the brain makes assumptions. We draw what we think we know rather than what is actually in front of us. The consequence is often a poorly observed drawing. Students frequently conclude from this that they "can't draw".Frankly, that is wrong. They simply have not yet learned how to look.

Looking for drawing is a learned practice. It takes time, patience and repetition. It takes practice. You have to unlearn a lifetime of casual looking. You also have to learn what to look for. Value. Proportion. Scale. Shape. Design. Colour. Texture. Pattern. Balance. Rhythm. Line. Contrast. These are the building blocks that help us understand what we are seeing. Never make the mistake of thinking that a strong drawing is an exact, realistic rendering of a subject. It is not. A drawing can be loose, expressive, disrupted, simplified or semi-abstract and still communicate something truthful. Good drawing is not about copying.It is about understanding. When drawing becomes discovery, exploration and finding out, it becomes much less threatening. Drawing becomes a process of questions and answers. You investigate your subject with curiosity. The remarkable thing is that this way of seeing does not stay confined to drawing. It changes how you move through the world. You notice more. You pay attention. You understand more. The world opens up when you look with intention

Drawing asks us to pay attention with intention. To stay with something a little longer than is comfortable. To notice more. The extraordinary thing is that once you learn to pay attention in drawing, you often start paying attention differently everywhere else, too. That has to be a good thing.

Helen Evans

I’m a full-time artist based in Brighton, Brisbane, creating contemporary paintings inspired by the natural world, from still life and botanicals to the landscapes and gardens around my home and studio.

My practice is grounded in observation, which I believe is essential to capture light, shape, and colour truly. I paint from life and I draw from life — whether it’s a plein air landscape or a still life set up in the studio. My sketchbook drawings serve as an essential source of reference, often evolving into richly layered acrylic paintings on board. Working directly from observation helps me understand a subject and its environment.

Through this process, I explore genius loci, the spirit of a place, and the ways painting can hold memory, identity, and a deeper sense of self. My work often sits between realism and abstraction, reflecting both what I see and what I feel.

Alongside my studio practice, I take commissions for collectors who want something personal and meaningful, and I run art workshops that encourage creativity, confidence, and joy in making.

https://www.helenjevansart.com
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