An Essential Drawing Hand Exercise.

Are you struggling to unlock your artistic potential and take your drawing skills to the next level? Look no further! In this article, I reveal the secret to unleashing your creativity: an essential drawing hand exercise and unlock your imagination and observation skills.

Whether you’re a beginner or a seasoned artist, this exercise will strengthen your hand muscles, improve your dexterity, and enhance your overall creativity abilities.

By incorporating this exercise into your daily practice routine, you’ll notice a remarkable improvement in your control, precision, and confidence when wielding a pencil or pen. Not only will you be able to create more detailed and expressive artwork, but you’ll also experience less fatigue and discomfort while drawing.

Join me on this artistic journey. Get ready to unleash your true artistic potential.

Let’s get started!

A small bamboo table slightly discolored by use and sun.

Around it chairs misshapen here and there by the weight of the bodies they have taken in over time.

The blue is in some places more scratched , in others it looks like enamel freshly drained from the pantry.

The old cafes of Bologna or Paris.

What does it matter.

It is that open-air space between the traffic and the walls, where literature and movies have introduced us to writers and artists.

With their mythical moleskines observing people and portraying them, or writing the memorable pages of a novel.

For me the pinnacle of professional achievement as a teenager was to be an artist sitting in a Café, with a notebook and a pen observing humanity and reinterpreting it.

And it is still a culmination for me today, imagining myself with no responsibilities, no deadlines, no duties, sitting, a small table in front of my legs, the paper material, a glass refracting the light, the smell of coffee, chocolate, vanilla, that cold that induces you to drink, and so many human beings passing through the sifting of my pencil.

You see fewer and fewer artists in that situation.

Almost all of them in front of a pc, on social media, on the web, out of reality.

And it’s incredible.

To encounter life happening in that moment trying to interpret it or stop it with a pencil, with no other aid than one’s eyes, hands, thoughts.

And choosing a subject, making it immortal in a notebook, secretly appropriating its life in an instant.

Sitting, without digital connections, distractions, without hurry.

An eternal instant.

Silent, personal, I would say fun though secret and even useless in the eyes of others. Because there is no sharing.

Only a test of one’s spirit of observation. A wager with one’s own doing, feeling, seeing.

To sit at a small bistro in Paris and sketch.

Almost like being at MoMA looking at paintings or drinking coffee.

That’s what it’s all about: living with a double speed and sense: me drawing you while you live and you living without me, yet we are connected. But one of us doesn’t know it.

Guessing a riddle: who is the person portrayed? where is she/he going? what is she/he doing? is he/she sad? is she/he happy?

After an instant he or she will disappear forever.

Except live on that paper, like an unwitting Maier subject. Or like the preparatory sketch of something to come.

Sitting in that chair at that rattan table, with a notebook and a pen, are perhaps something ancient or something revolutionary.

Because it is about a concrete act without outside help. And a bet with one’s own talent.

That is why for me it remains the highest point of an artist’s career.

Not the awards, not the money, not the fame.

But discovering life and enjoy it with no other motivation than to recreate the world.

One book out of all comes to mind when I have the hot cup in front of me, the sugar packet with a witty motto, and my work tools.

George Perec and his “An Attempt at Exhausting a Place in Paris”.

We start here when we sit in a café that we like and inspires us:

My purpose“- Perec writes – “is … to describe the rest: what is generally not noticed, what is not observed, what does not matter: what happens when nothing happens except the passing of time, people, cars, and clouds.

Being an artist sitting at a little worn-out table, in a comfortable chair, with a few papers and a pen, is always a prelude to transformation.

I will start: It is two o’clock in the afternoon, the touch of the bell tower is lost in the passage of a furious motorcycle. Three pigeons vie for crumbs, a lady sitting stiffly does not know whether to eat her pastry first or drink her coffee. her nose is angry and reticulated with purplish capillaries.

Out comes a wiry man, smiling at something that is not there.


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