Why I Never Start with the Details

One of the questions I'm asked more than any other is:

"How do you know where to start?"

Whether I'm sketching on a busy street in London or painting a larger studio piece, my answer is always the same.

I don't start with the details. In fact, I actively avoid them.

When we're faced with an interesting urban scene it's incredibly tempting to begin with the things that caught our eye in the first place, the ornate windows, the shop signs, the people or perhaps an old doorway full of character.

The problem is that details rarely hold a drawing together.

They decorate it. The structure comes first.

Learning to see the big picture

One of the biggest breakthroughs in my own drawing happened when I stopped trying to draw things and started looking for relationships.

• How tall is that building compared with its neighbour?

• Where does the street disappear?

• Which roofline creates the strongest movement across the page?

• What are the biggest shapes before I worry about the smallest ones?

  
  

These simple questions completely changed the way I approached drawing.

The more I simplified what I was looking at, the more convincing the finished sketch became.Ironically, by drawing less, the work began to say much more.

The hidden framework

When people look at one of my paintings they often comment on the expressive line work or the loose washes of colour.

What they don't usually notice is the quiet framework underneath.

Before any colour goes down, I'm already thinking about:

• the direction of the space

• the balance of the composition

• the rhythm created by repeating shapes

• where I want the viewer's eye to travel

  
  

These decisions are largely invisible, but they are what make the expressive marks feel believable rather than random.

Leave something for the viewer

As artists we sometimes feel responsible for explaining everything.

• Every brick.

• Every window.

• Every architectural detail.

But viewers enjoy participating in a painting. Give them enough information to recognise the place, then allow their imagination to fill the gaps. That is where atmosphere begins.

For me, drawing has never been about creating an architectural record. It's about capturing the feeling of standing in that place on that particular day or the changing light, the movement of people, the rhythm of the street and the energy that exists between the buildings.

That's what keeps me returning to urban landscapes. Not because they are complicated.

But because they remind me that simplicity is often the hardest thing to achieve.

And perhaps that's why I still begin every sketch in exactly the same way...

Not with the details. But with the spaces between them.