LEARNING IS EASIER WITH A VISUAL DEMONSTRATION

By Dougie Chowns

Pictures speak louder than words and a demonstration teaches students much faster than talking about how to draw or paint. The best way to communicate a skill or how to do something is to simply show how. Of course, it does mean as a teacher, you must be quite good at your subject. Teach what you know best. Teaching will actually improve your own ability and art knowledge.

Some years ago, the local Primary School was studying Degas. I was asked to attend as a local artist to give them a demo. I wished to keep it simple, ‘show them’ rather than talking about Degas. So, I arrived dressed with a Victorian look. I don’t look very much like Degas (although I do think I look like Stanley Spencer R.A. with his easel and paints in his pram in a wet-puddled lane in Maidenhead 1950’s England).

I dressed the part wearing a straw hat and a waistcoat, bow tie and braces. With my folding upright easel under my arm, my large wooden oil paint box and my big ‘well used’ 1870’s palette, I greeted the gathered children in my best ‘school boy’ French. My model, a wee lass, was ready dressed in an apron and Breton outfit. To the utter astonishment of the children, I greeted her – “Bonjour Mademoiselle” – and kissed her hand. The girls watching loved it. I had their attention. Wide eyed the group sitting around my feet said it all.

I selected a Degas blue and a sheet of pink paper, erected my easel and drawing board, then selected half a dozen specific tubes of paint, poured turpentine (with a big loving sniff) and linseed oil into the dippers on the palette, and began mixing the paint a little with a painting knife. I was ‘work ready’ with no verbal explanation. Their learning about Degas, started in class a couple of weeks prior with their non-artistic teacher, was now coming alive visually for them. Yes, true, I hammed it up to make it memorable – they wanted to look in the many compartments in my oil paint box – “what was in this little bottle?” – “why various pencils?” – “why a piece of soap?” – “why a box of matches?” – “why slivers of glass?” – “why the little pencil drawing of a cat and a jug with the scribbled message ‘Le chat “Fifi”’?

“Mon Deux!!!” I exclaimed with concern, “I av forgotten to feed Fifi!”.

Do I hear you say, “ridiculous performance?” I think not. Children accept an interesting and fun scenario readily, and surprisingly a month later memories were affirmed when, attending a function at the school, the word quickly went round – Degas is here!

My objective was to get them drawing with a brush on an upright easel and looking at the model frequently. Between laying in a sepia turpentine brush line, followed by mixing colour on the palette and changing brushes, I attempted to reduce my colour mixes and filled in the appropriate areas. Your own “painting by numbers method” I said – easy!

They saw the likeness develop, understood to paint from the shoulder not the wrist, and to hold the brush by the thin end, not near the ferrel. They approved. The model was coyly presented with the colour sketch and the paint on the palette scraped up and transferred to the old picture glass slivers with a palette knife and put into the waiting jam jar of water.

Hardly an explanation necessary, they watched my palette cleaned and finished off with a cloth and a little titanium white, the brushes cleaned in my home made baked bean tin with the adapted small tuna tin for the inner tin strainer holding mineral turps. A verbal caution not to lick, especially watercolour, brushes which can contain Cyanide yellow – “a student at art school lost her lip that way”, I said – just me passing on visual how’s and a few tips.

“What does ‘fugitive’ mean, Degas?”

“See the stars on the tube?” I responded, pointing at the stars on the tubes, explaining about light radiation energy and how Prussian blue fades in sunlight and recovers in shade but can also go a rusty brown tinge if the painting is in a damp or smoky room. Less than an hour and hardly what you might call a usual ‘primers art lesson’.

When we watch an artist painting, developing an image on a blank canvas, we automatically understand how to sit or stand, how to hold a pencil, conté chalk, a brush or painting knife. It’s obvious. We simply do the same. TV and video films abound but film demonstrations seldom show you how to get out of a problem midway when it all goes wrong – to see someone else recover can be the most important part of the lesson. Also, it’s watching, not talking that is so valuable to the student. Artists seldom show a mistake on DVD. However, we all make mistakes. Sometimes it makes for more of a painting – something special.

You may say that I am being over simplistic but in fact a demonstration is worth a thousand words and the watchers’ understanding is usually very good. Our memory of what we saw or experienced is easily recalled, and we do the same ourselves. If the demonstrator can add some performance colour for students, it helps the memory process by setting the scene and using actual tools and materials, brushes and paper, paint box and easel, a bottle of ‘Dimp’ insect repellent or a small piece of soap – they understand what they need to have as well, and how to complete their work. No verbal explanation is necessary.

How to communicate a message and what the message or lesson is, has been endlessly talked about in advertising – actually, it is very important. The tutor should know exactly what they are teaching or passing on at that moment. So, keep it simple. Graphics cross language barriers – demonstrating ‘how” works no matter what language or level of capacity an onlooker has. Every day we learn to complete a task, tie a knot, find a toilet, fry an egg or draw when we are shown. Our whole lives have been mostly full of being shown how. Drawing or painting is the same. I encourage ‘you’ to show others how you do it, no matter who you are. It will also teach you quite a lot in the process. Don’t say you are not good enough. Just keep within your own knowledge and ability.

Did you learn to ride a bike, kick a ball, drive a car, fly a small plane by reading about it? Likely not, we learn to do most things by example from those who have the virtuoso skill to show us how, and to communicate their message or lesson in an interesting way.

Years ago, when watercolour personality Ron Ranson and myself shared a studio with Tom Jones in a Hill Street, Berkley Square attic, watching Tom pull an expression on his own face of the face he was drawing for Clarks’ children’s shoes, taught me so much. Lunchtimes, visiting Bond Street Galleries and exhibitions with those who knew what art is all about – was my education. I was very lucky, I realise.

Meanwhile – how are your book illustrations coming along? Did you know that the original Superman comic artist Joe Shuster used to draw from a male model dressed as Superman or Flash Gordon hanging from the ceiling or lying on the floor? Make life easy for yourself, draw from life, pose a friend as a model.

Happy sketching!