From Publishers Weekly
With the triumph of photography and the retreat of representation from "serious" visual art, the place of drawing as a central and necessary human activity might appear to be under some threat. Yet naturalist Steinhart's lively and gently polemical book shows it to be positively thriving, most passionately (and unexpectedly) in "drawing groups" that meet all over the country to sketch models and discuss technique. Steinhart (
The Company of Wolves) is himself the enthusiastic member of such a group, and details of their rearguard defense of drawing traditions are the affectionately rendered center of the book. Moving from his own experiences to art history, science and the lives of the artists and models with whom he comes in contact, Steinhart examines this resurgence not only as an exercise in cultural self-expression but a collective response to a fundamental human need. Along the way, he gives quick but informative sketches of the world of children's drawing, the physiology of facial recognition and the evolution of photography. But the book's true milieu is the studio, and its core subject the complex relationships between hand, brain, eye and subject in the drawn depiction of the human figure. The fascinating life of the figure model Florence Allen (who not only posed over a period of many years for everyone from Diego Rivera to Richard Diebenkorn, but helped organize her colleagues into a professional guild) shows a side of the art world rarely explored with such sympathy and depth. And if Steinhart partakes a little of the "Us vs. Them" opposition to the contemporary art world common among his peers, he doesn't make a big deal out of it. For him, a drawing bound for the fridge door is taken as seriously as a painting in the Prado. 31 illus.
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Naturalist Steinhart's previous books include
The Company of Wolves (1995), so drawing may seem like a departure for him, but as he so magnanimously avers, "The naturalist and the artist are alike in their watchfulness." Each must be disciplined, observant, and ardent. Steinhart has been drawing for years, finding it an immensely beneficial endeavor, and he is not alone. Although art schools downplay traditional drawing classes, many amateurs and professionals have formed drawing groups so that they can work with a model, thus instigating a grassroots renaissance of figure drawing. Steinhart, an engagingly grounded and generous writer, seeks to explain this phenomenon, and his conclusions are as surprising as they are moving. An "undressed art" in its intimacy, drawing from nude models is an "act of discovery" and a "way of seeing" that nurtures our innate "human need to look deeply and expressively," especially at each other. As Steinhart incisively chronicles the experiences of models and artists alike, he eloquently celebrates life drawing as a communion and a source of compassion and meaning.
Donna SeamanCopyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved
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