Different Purposes, Different Marks

Not every drawing is trying to become a photograph.

Some artwork invites us to study the smallest details. Some draws our attention to movement, color, or expression. Some holds a quiet place on a wall. Some goes out into the world on a shirt.

Those differences are not simply matters of skill. They are decisions about what the artwork is meant to do.

In my own work, even a change in destination changes the way I draw.

For my commissioned fine-art portraits, I work on Strathmore paper made for colored pencil. I do not use strong black outlines around the animal. The edges are handled differently, allowing the portrait to take shape without that pronounced boundary.

For a T-shirt design, I use white paper to brighten the colors, and I use a stronger black outline. I want the drawing to retain its character when it becomes part of a garment.

Neither approach is an unfinished version of the other. Each asks something different of me.

Lately, I have seen artists criticize other artists because their work does not look realistic enough, or because it falls short of photorealism. I understand admiring the skill required to create an image so detailed that it could be mistaken for a photograph. That skill deserves recognition.

But it is not the only skill worth recognizing.

When we judge every piece by how closely it resembles a photograph, we risk overlooking what the artist was trying to express. We can miss a deliberate line, an unexpected use of color, or a way of seeing that belongs to that person alone.

There is a difference between helping an artist develop their technique and suggesting that their individual way of working is something they need to outgrow.

Artists need room to learn. They also need room to remain themselves.

That matters to me as a self-taught artist. I experiment with techniques, but a new technique is not automatically a better fit for my work. Sometimes trying something different helps me understand why I value the way I have been drawing all along.

For me, the most valuable part of art is the energy the artist brings to the piece. The choices, the attention, the relationship with the subject. Another artist could draw the same horse and create something entirely different. That is not a problem to correct. It is part of what makes art worth exploring.

In my equine work, I want the animal to remain an individual. The technique serves that intention, whether I am drawing a portrait to be framed or artwork to be worn.

Photorealism has its place. So do the many ways of making art that are not trying to be photorealistic.

A useful question is not always, “How real does it look?”

Sometimes it is, “What has this artist helped me see?”