How It Came To Be That I Started Drawing Two-Headed Crows

by Dave Presby

Late last November, I met a friend at her place for a leisurely seven-mile Sunday run.  After we finished, we went inside for a few minutes to stretch and grab some water.  As we were talking, I noticed a bunch of watercolor paintings of birds lying around on her kitchen table.  Some were already framed, some were waiting for a frame, and a few looked to be waiting for finishing touches.  What they had in common is that they were all unique and beautifully done.

“Did you paint all these?” I asked.

“Yep,” she responded.

“Have you had any formal art training?”

“Nope.  I just really like birds.”

“They’re beautiful.”

“Thanks!” she replied, clearly grateful for the compliment.

I have to admit, I was just slightly in awe of their beauty in that moment.  I’ve loved birds for years, always taking any opportunity I can to observe and listen to them, whether out for a walk, camping off the coast of Maine, or hanging out near a bird-feeder in the suburbs.  What’s more, it was baffling to me that somebody without any formal art training could crank out such wonderful work.  Clearly, she’d been at it for awhile…  which got me thinking.

Hmmmmmmm…

I have never had any formal art training, and I’d never had the patience to even attempt a serious drawing or painting composition.  There was a period in college when I drew a series of cartoons for the campus newspaper, depicting stick figures being tortured by demons for not being able to solve Organic Chemistry equations.  The quality of the work itself wasn’t great, but the subject matter was popular with over 75% of my Organic Chemistry class, with whom I managed to fail in flying colors.

Later that evening, my friend and I were exchanging pet pictures; that’s what pet parents do.  I sent her a snapshot of my two cats raiding the kitchen sink.  She countered with a picture of her two chocolate labs curled up on the couch.

I wonder if I could draw that, I thought to myself, studying the peacefully-sleeping canines in the picture.  Having moved into an apartment earlier in the year after ten years as a homeowner, free time to experiment with new hobbies was something that I had in spades.

The next day, I stopped at Michael’s on my way home from work and picked up a pad of sketch paper, along with a set of charcoal pencils of what looked to be average quality.  I didn’t want to break the bank on supplies just yet, as I had a feeling my attempt at becoming an artist would be short-lived.  I’d only been inside a Michael’s on two other occasions in my life.  I felt out of my element as I wandered the aisles looking for sketching supplies, doing my best not to bump into or offend my fellow shoppers, most of whom were surely more creative and artistic than me.

Later that evening after dinner, I sat with the collection of pencils, erasers, and sharpeners littered around the kitchen table before me, along with the sketch pad opened up to the first page.  The blank surface seemed to be taunting me, as it stared back in mocking fashion.

Go ahead.  Draw something on me.  I dare you.  Just try it.

“Piss off,” I mumbled, as I accessed my phone’s settings, set the auto-lock to ‘Never’, and called up the photo of my friend’s adorable chocolate labs.

Not quite sure where to begin, I decided to draw simple outlines of the two dogs, to at least establish their position on the paper.  If I was going to create some horrible artwork, then dammit I was determined to make sure it was laid out properly on the page.  Next, I decided to try to draw one of the dog’s noses, as it was one of the darker spots on the photograph.  Its one exposed nostril was a wacky, strange, curly shape that looked as if it would require maximum effort.  Funny… I’d never really taken the time to look at a dog’s nostril.  I actually found its shape to be somewhat fascinating.  After establishing a crude nose, I moved on to the dog’s eye.  I stared at the image on the phone for a good minute, trying to comprehend how a two-dimensional image could look so three-dimensional on a flat surface.

How the hell do I make this look real?

After another moment, I tried to forget that I was looking at a dog.  Instead, I focused on different shapes and shades of color, their relationship to each other, and how they came together to create the illusion of reality.  I managed to successfully place the closed eye on the lower dog, making it appear as if the pooch was sound asleep.

As I was working, I noticed that I’d been making a mess of the charcoal, getting it all over my hands and paper in places that it didn’t belong.  And then, it hit me… I had that moment of clarity.  I stared at the dark lump, which I’d scrawled just above the dogs closed eye, in an attempt to form a three dimensional socket just beneath the brow.  Taking my finger, I deliberately smeared the charcoal northwest… away from the closed eye.

Bingo!

All of a sudden, I had a three dimensional brow.  My friend’s dog was beginning to take on life, spirit, and personality on the paper before me.

“How do ya’ like them apples!” I barked in my best Matt Damon voice at the previously blank pad of paper, which I’d managed to silence with a few well-placed charcoal smears.

All of a sudden, I was hooked.  I began filling in the darkest areas of the dogs with heavy layers of charcoal, subsequently smearing them left, right, up, and down… wherever necessary to mirror the canines on my phone.  I worked for the next three hours, completely oblivious of the time.  Before I knew it, the clock on my stove read 11:30… way past my bedtime for a Sunday night.  At that point, both dogs had taken shape and were virtually complete, save for a few subtle details.

During the next week, I shifted my focus to painstakingly recreating every fold, crevice, and shadow of the sweatshirt that my friend was wearing in the picture.  Again, I used the smearing and erasing technique to lend lifelike, believable qualities to the composition.  Lastly came the bottom of my friend’s chin, including her grin, which had crept into the picture.  At first, I was tempted to leave that part out. Humans, and facial features in particular are notoriously hard to draw, and it was tempting to quit while I was ahead.  But I ultimately decided that I shouldn’t cut any corners, despite the challenge.

The teeth in particular were a challenge… not because there was anything wrong with my friend’s teeth.  Rather, recreating the representation of healthy dentition on paper leaves little room for error.  One wrong move, stray mark, or errant smudge can be the difference between healthy, clean teeth and teeth that have just devoured a handful of mixed nuts or suffered collateral damage in a hockey fight.

After a weekend’s work, I managed to recreate the image of her chin and teeth to an extent that satisfied me.  My representation wasn’t perfect… again, a reflection on me, not her.  But for my first attempt, I was more than satisfied.

At 11:30 that Sunday night, almost exactly eight days after I’d started, my amateur composition was complete.  I dropped the charcoal pencil on the table and stared at the drawing that lay on the pad before me.  For the first time, I considered the drawing as a whole, and not just a series of assembled tones, shades, lines, and shadows.  At that moment, I was astounded.  What lay before me was absolutely beautiful.  I sat there for almost ten minutes, gazing upon my creation in stunned silence.

Did I really just create this in eight days?

The initial pride in my work that I felt was overwhelming, but the lasting emotion was one of gratitude, primarily for having the good fortune to discover a previously untapped, unknown talent that had apparently been slumbering inside my being for just over four decades of my haplessly bumbling around the planet, mostly without any sort of direction or purpose.

Seeing that it was my first serious attempt at artwork, it was tempting to hang onto it for sentimental reasons.  However, since it was my friend’s pooches that served as my inspiration, I framed it and gave it to her as a Christmas gift… a gesture for which she was most grateful.

Not wanting to rest on my laurels, my next mission was to prove to myself that my initial success wasn’t a fluke, and that I truly had a gift that could be further developed and expanded upon.  With that, I put dogs on the back-burner and moved on to the most obvious subject matter… CROWS!  Not only are crows one of my favorite birds, but their composition of primarily black shades and variations lends itself perfectly to the use of charcoal pencils.

My attempts at accomplishing anything at home in my apartment were short-lived, as one of my cats made every effort to nuzzle my right arm to death anytime I tried to start a drawing.  One evening after yet another failed attempt to escape the affection of Snickers, I packed up my supplies into my laptop sleeve, drove a mile down the road to a nearby brewery, and set up shop at the bar with a flight of microbrews.

And that’s been my routine ever since, as I’ve started exploring and learning what I can accomplish with a pad of paper and a set of pencils.  Since cutting my teeth on charcoal, I’ve expanded my toolkit to include graphite pencils and colored pastel pencils.  After my initial success with the chocolate labs, I’ve moved on to crows, a cardinal, crows, a magpie, more crows, a flower, psychedelic crows, a Labatt’s beer can, and even two-headed crows… one of which was perched on a diner mug.

On weekend days when I have a free hour or two, I’ll head to a coffee shop with my supplies, order a pour-over or a mocha made with almond milk, and draw.  On Thursday and Saturday nights, I’ll shift gears and head to a local brewery or watering hole and draw… sometimes for three hours at a time.  Three hours may seem like a long time to be at a bar, but I’ve learned how to make two beers last for almost the entire duration of my stay.

After frequenting several different establishments, I’ve settled on two favorites.  During the daytime hours of the weekend, I like to spend time at Fairpour, a lively coffee shop on the north side of the canal just across the bridge in Fairport, New York.  Aside from offering multiple options for a delicious pourover cup of coffee, they also make a fantastic caramel mocha with almond milk. 

Once the sun goes down on Thursday and Saturday evenings, I cross the railroad tracks and head to Iron Smoke Distillery also in Fairport. Iron Smoke made national news in January, when Forbes named their Iron Smoke Straight Bourbon as one of the “10 best bourbons beyond Kentucky.”  In addition to hosting great local bands virtually every Thursday and Saturday night, the entire staff is one of the friendliest, kindest, and most knowledgeable that you’ll find anywhere.  In a short month, they’ve made me feel welcome as a weekly regular.

During the past two months, I’ve learned several things.  On a personal note, not only have I learned that the ability to draw is a gift with which I’ve been blessed, but it’s also an outlet that’s capable of capturing and holding my focus and attention for hours… something for which I’m eternally grateful when I need to unwind, mentally clock out, or take a break from reality.

Secondly, I’ve learned that others are very interested and appreciative of my efforts.  I’ve never ventured out to a bar on my own until the past several months.  Initially, I wasn’t sure how others would react to the dude sitting at the bar by himself shading the breast feathers of a two-headed crow while sipping a Scotch ale.  But I’ve had so many people come up to me, admire my work, pay me generous compliments, and even tell stories about how something that I’m drawing has significance in their lives.

Yes, people.  Crows are significant.  Deal with it.

I’ve also learned that others are actually willing to pay me for my time and effort.  In early January, a restaurant manager was observing me in action, and he asked me how much I charge for a sketch.  I was stunned and kind of laughed off his inquiry at the time, thinking it would be an isolated incident.  However, within the two weeks that followed, I had another business owner and also a bar patron ask me for drawings on separate occasions… one of which involved a crow.

Of course, my next stop was the original restaurant, where I assured the owner who’d first inquired about my work that I’d be happy to draw something for him.  So I currently have three separate projects in the pipeline, two of which involve crows.

Yes, people.  Crows are significant.  Deal with it.

Finally, I’ve learned, and am still in the process of understanding one of the most important lessons in our life journey…  especially helpful during this past year, which has been a very trying time for me in my personal life.  While the details of what I’ve experienced will not be, nor should they be, disclosed here, let’s just say that the beginning of 2019 sees me in a very different spot than at the same time last year in 2018.  The last several months in particular have been a time of challenge and adjustment, but let’s just say that I’m beginning to find my way.

As for that valuable lesson, the following words have become cliché since originally spoken by Alexander Graham Bell, but their meaning still rings true…

“When one door closes another door opens, but we so often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door, that we do not see the ones which open for us.”

I’ll be the first to admit that it took awhile for me to get past several of the doors that had closed… for various reasons.  However, in my newfound discovery of my artistic abilities, I recognize that a new door has swung wide open, offering me a handful of exciting opportunities for new experiences and meeting new people.  And for that, I’m extremely grateful.