By the end of childhood I learned to draw
fine lines (with keen eyes and measured skill).
I learned to draw what mattered; to ignore
the distractions (there were no marks for frill).
How to overcome the errors of sight?
How to foreshorten an odd perspective?
These were the problems you had to get right:
minimal tolerance for technical give.
All things became parallel, rightly squared;
they had to marry-well to plot or grid;
they had to tally-well or be repaired;
they had to mirror what the real world did.
. After childhood there are no wonky lines;
. they neatly straighten and become designs.

© Tim Grace, 6 January 2012

To the reader: At school I enjoyed technical drawing classes, they appealed to my style of measured sketch; where objects take shape according to long-held principles of linear geometry. Tools of the trade were important and taking care of them was critical to achieving a clean result. Of all the lessons I learned at school it was through technical drawing I best understood myself. I freely gave away my naive interpretation of the visual world and adopted rules that enabled me to draw what I see.

To the poet: Between naivety and mastery lies frustration. It’s unfortunate that we abandon our fresh expression of life through naive art… but understandable. Expression, in all its forms, is a social tool that evolves to meet expanding needs. The licence to communicate has rules that can be stretched and personalised but ultimately an audience will accept or reject the value of art. Selecting an appreciative audience is one solution… avoid criticism; create your own applause.

fine lines