Eye of an Artist

I retired from my job with the provincial college at the end of the Covid pandemic in 2022 and after 30-plus years of a career as an adult educator. It took some time, but as the reality of retirement took hold I had a notion of returning to a childhood pastime of drawing and painting. In truth, I hadn’t totally abandoned my art for all those years. I have picked up a pencil, pen, or brush from time to time and tried to capture some image from my travels or my memory. But it seemed at times a chore to do as an adult what gave me such joy as a youngster.

About two years ago, I became interested in the phenomenon of urban sketching – in part because I felt that my reticence to getting serious about art was, in part, that I was too concerned with detail and, as a result, too many of my studies became full-blown works when drawing en plein air. I had heard that urban sketching was a fast way to capture impressions on site.

In January last year, I began to follow some talented urban artists like Mark Taro Holmes, Peter Sheeler, and Ian Fennelly and finally enrolled in a course being delivered online by the latter. It was energizing just having some direction and some accountability for my art…but then I wasn’t sure it was really my art since I was largely following the direction of one artist – sketching along with a host of colleague learners painting the same image from the same reference photo. 

 I did get some skills from that experience – in particular a process that I could follow that went something like:  pre-sketching (to establish the composition); capturing large objects in light minimalist sketches in pencil and ink; then adding in color; following with some tone for depth; and, finally, adding in greater detail in ink – telling the story of one’s own impressions of a scene or venue. I came to realize quickly that I was no Ian Fennelly – nor did I want to be. The form of urban sketching that he promotes is somewhat whimsical, sometimes bordering on cartoon. I wanted to remain impressionist in style while presenting an image that was more clearly representative of the true picture, perspective, and colour I perceived – and not exaggerated or comical. While his style never stuck with me (and I am pleased to say that I feel I have developed a unique style of my own through my work), that process has persisted into a practice as I have been working on new pieces, techniques, and from my own photos and live, on-site experiences.

There is something else, though, that has emerged during my study this last year and I don’t know if it was there when I was young or if it has only developed in this past year or two. It is a profound change in the way I see things, how I look at a scene, view the sky, observe a beach or a trail, appreciate an old building or even a derelict barn, truck, bicycle. I call it the eye of an artist and it has brought me a new perspective on the beauty that exists in this world – even when it may not seem so beautiful to all. In a world where there are so many things that are distinctly not beautiful, having the eye of an artist and a return to a childhood joy have given me great peace. Are you an artists who has experienced this unique perspective? Do you consciously examine the clouds, the sea, a building or a potential subject wondering what techniques you might use to capture it in your medium?

“Fresh Snow on the Trail”, Gaetz Brook Greenway, East Chezzetcook, Nova Scotia by Stephen Parsons ©2025