I love that laughter video. I must learn more about Annette Goodheart.

Also I loved your comment here:
"Using this (watercolour kit) in a public place, I found, was more useful for starting conversations with girls than having a dog a Golden Labrador leash."

Brilliant! I must try that out one day. Besides, dogs don't fit into your pocket.

Ebert: Of course that should read "...more useful for starting conversations with girls than having a Golden Labrador on a leash."

None of my corrections made last night took. I think Movable Type timed out on me and didn't inform me. Damn.

Thank you so much for this. I've always thought I wasn't good enough..yet I love to mess with water colors. You're making me think now...maybe ... just maybe... I'm OK. Because nobody can paint like me. :)

Hello Roger - you don't have to post this comment at all, just thought I'd suggest that you review your very interesting entry one more time. There are a few more typos and missing words than I usually see in your posts. Maybe you were in a hurry. Have a good day. RJ

Ebert: I can't believe it! I proof-read before I posted, and made a lot of changes. None of them took. All repaired now, I hope.

Wow, I think this column came about at the perfect time. I've been searching for motivation to keep going in my life. I feel like I have no dreams, no talent, nothing to give back to the world.

I do miss the days when I was a kid and my creativity flowed. I still have paintings from when I was 6/7 years old and I enjoy them. I guess I stopped because I saw the flaws in them, they weren't perfect.

But they are.

Maybe I really am an artist... my artist. Nobody can do what I can do, I never thought of it that way.

As someone with some modest amount of technical ability, I'm always trying to improve without becoming so polished that my work is no longer fun to look at. All my favorite drawers are people who are technically lacking here or there, but all the more interesting for it.

One guy worth looking at is the Japanese manga artist King Terry. He has this heta-uma, bad-good philosophy, which means art that is technically lacking but inspired is better than something that's technically perfect but uninspired.

His work is... pretty awful, technically speaking, but infinitely more fun to look at than the average modern superhero artist whose capacity for perfect anatomy and perspective is matched only by his refusal to enjoy himself.

http://tinyurl.com/4l3j7gu
http://tinyurl.com/4scb2bw

There's a whole category of Japanese comics by people empowered by King Terry to draw even though they can't draw.

You could replace "draw" with the word "act," and subsequent dependent nomenclature, and it would a perfect fit. Or "dance". Or "write". Just about any artistic pursuit is something innate in us at a very early age, and only when we pick up our "erasers" do we start to understand failure. (Which isn't at all, of course. The failure in doing something is in stopping too soon.)

Of course, if one wants to be truly precocious, one would replace the word "draw" with "live". But one chooses to just think about the idea, for now.

Thanks for another wonderful post about your amazing life, Mr. Ebert. I hope you have an idea of the amount of people you inspire.

I think that's a great idea. I find it sad that when humans "grow up" they are afraid to express themselves through drawing anymore.

If I'm out in a public place but want people to leave me alone I'll take out a little notebook and start writing. If I feel lonely and want to be approached, I bring a sketchpad and start drawing.

Both practices achieve the desired result almost every time.

Drawing as you describe it is a way of engaging with the passing scene without immersing yourself in it. Thanks for including the wonderful drawings and paintings.

This is basically what the impressionists and those such as Picasso tried to establish or 80 years.

Yellow Labrador or Golden Retriever. Pick one. :)

I just finished reading this a few seconds ago and am blown away. Thank you SO much for your astonishing support and encouragement over the past 8 months; you have no idea how much it means to me. I'm just about to start a painting based on the Hopper-esque photo you showed me a while back. I love your drawings and the stories behind them. Never stop drawing, sir!

Everyone can draw. With my art students, I always tried to downplay the mysticism behind what is essentially a physical skill similar to typing, driving a car, or shooting a free-throw. Some people are better at those skills than others, but nearly everyone can learn the basics. The more you practice them, the more you'll improve. And if you have what I call "the love," you can slip into that zone of concentration you described so well. I almost hated to show my students this place. It made me feel like a drug pusher giving them their first taste for free. Once you're in there, you never want to leave, but it is indeed the best place to be and its rewards are great.

I used to be able to draw very well but over the years, my focus has shifted to other things. I recently returned to my sketch pad only to discover that my skills have been lost somewhere. I started beating myself up about it (in typical fashion) and walked away. This post just gave me my spirit back. I have changed and my sketches are a reflection of the person I am now. Thanks for making me realize and embrace this!

I made a conscious effort to give my daughter the freedom to express herself through art. A favorite picture of her, at the ripe age of perhaps fourteen months, kitchen table covered with large sheet of paper and paint galore.

Kept paper and materials on hand as she grew. I think her most recent medium of choice would be chalks. But, she always has a sketchbook where she can find it.

I've enjoyed doodling over the years. Ink, mostly fluid lines. Nothing to do with formal rendering of anything.

The fear of imperfection is a horrible thing. I remember growing up with coloring books and praise for staying in the lines. We have gotten better about that in this culture. Thanks for this, Roger.

Wow, so nice, Roger.

It makes such sense that "we can all draw" until told we can't!
Those drawings! I'd love to see more of your sketches as elements in your pieces. And brava, Marie Haws!

The Conference on World Affairs exposes people to such great, and often surprising, ideas and people: "laughter therapy" by the finely named Annette Goodheart! And just being in Boulder offers that, too. As a college freshman there in the late 1960s, I was on the Hill above CU, scanning titles at that bookstore (the name escapes me now), when this tall man with waist-length hair said, "I'd like to do your chart." My what?

Coming from central Illinois - little Kewanee (a town whose Illini Native name means "prairie chicken") - I'd never heard of astrological charts, nor seen many men with waist-length hair.

But of course I let him.

Your scribble-sketches [I don't mean that description insultingly, by the way] remind me of Jules Feiffer's art, the most well-known of which are probably his whimsical illustrations in The Phantom Tollbooth: http://tiny.cc/xwp8y

When I was in high school, I took one of those career-choosing tests based on the qualities one would like in one's job. The result said that I should be a cartoonist. The test failed to ask if I could draw! Who would have guessed back then that one might now make a living off a stick-figure webcomic?

Thanks, too, for this empowering entry.

My favorite architecture teacher once told me that sketching is essentially the same expression as writing. "Sketch everything you see," he said. "It will make you a better architect and a better thinker."

I now take my class notes on paper just so I can sketch in the margins, and those sketchy notes have a quality and permanence that makes the typed stuff feel pretty thin!

Roger,

This doesn't have anything to do with your post, but out of curiosity are there any very famous or stand-out critically acclaimed films that you've yet to see?

Thanks for another lovely post.

I have always enjoyed the maxim "If it's worth doing, it's worth doing badly." Although the pejorative word "badly" is there to make a witty and surprising contrast with the original line it parodies, I think there's a real (and non-pejorative) point behind it. There are many things that we could enjoy as hobbies -- painting and drawing, playing music, writing poetry, woodworking, golf, cooking -- but we get intimidated by the sense that we shouldn't do them unless we are good at them. Instead of doing things for the fun of the activity itself, we judge our efforts by the perfection of the end result. And our yardstick for being "good" is what professionals do, which is about as hopeless as thinking we should all achieve a fashion model's level of physical attractiveness.

My main area of interest is folk music, and at its core, folk music is about people singing and playing music in their everyday lives, for the sheer pleasure it brings, either on one's own or with family or members of one's community. Until relatively recent times, most people couldn't afford to pay a professional for entertainment; they entertained each other by sitting around their kitchen or living room or local pub, telling stories, singing songs, playing music (often on homemade instruments at that). People also sang as they worked, to pass the time or (in the case of sea shanties or prison work songs) to coordinate a group of workers. And although they surely admired an especially good musician or singer or storyteller in their midst, they weren't intimidated out of participating themselves.

Too much of our lives is so goal-oriented that we forget to simply do things for sheer fun and pleasure. You might know the song that Steve Goodman used to sing, "Lovin' of the Game" (written by Pat & Victoria Garvey):
Beside the looking-for, the finding's always tame;
The treasure's not the taking, it's the loving of the game.

Been drawing since I can remember (I am 23 now). With few exceptions, I never color. To me, getting the damn picture made and looking great is a challenge enough... And I had one experience as a child that has scarred me against coloring ever since. (Basically, I ruined what was a good picture)

But when I look at what I can do and see how it could benefit from color, it makes me want to branch out. I have watercolors at home here and have been too scared to use them... Maybe it's time for me to conquer some fears.

Ebert: Do you ever draw from your mind to the page with no outside inspiration? No looking at a photograph, no looking at your surroundings... You can truly create some of your own most original and profoundly startling work by looking at nothing other than the blank page and what you have already created. There are no limits, and like I said, you'll be surprised and delighted by your own creation by the time you're done.

Ebert: Oddly, perhaps, I have never drawn from imagination alone.

Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!

I have organized free art classes at my son's school (which ranks up there with Labradors on leashes, let me tell ya), and I always start by saying I am not a very good artist. They beg to differ, but I am not being disingenuous . I tell them that I do not draw better or worse than them, just different than them. But the most important thing is that i do it at all.

Lately i have ben using Sketchbook Pro on my iPad to finish some sketches. And the same thing applies: not better or worse an other media, just different. A lot more forgiving than watercolor though. And if there's one thing I need, it's forgiving. Wow, I sound Catholic.

Life goes on whether you draw, paint, play the cello, dance, photograph a scene, make a movie, watch a movie . . . When you get to the end of your life, will you say, "I wish I learned how to draw like so-and-so." Or will you say, "All my possessions for a moment of time" (Elizabeth I) And, what would you do with that time? Work more? I think not. Do it now for tomorrow may dawn without you. Congratulations Roger for the courage and curiosity to spend your free time according to your own wisdom. I play the cello, and feel the same sense of intellectual abandon when I do. It is freedom, it is in the moment, and I love it. I wish the same for everyone.

What I can tell you for sure Rog is that I will never make a sandwich, spread butter on a piece of bread or repair any kind of fixture as well as Monica does. Her painting is 100% a reflection of her meticulous character.
On a normal portrait she will spend a couple of weeks on the face alone and maybe another two on the rest. It's almost like she embroiders her subjects and does it so little by little, I've never known her to make a mistake and require a do-over which is beyond my comprehension.
My character is completely the opposite, for the FFC pieces I will watch a movie, write some ideas, make a blunt draft and polish it for days until I'm close to going crazy. On contrast, while reading your reviews I can sense you have the ability to pour your ideas on paper the first time around which I truly envy.

This post is awesome. I would like to see some of your drawings. You should post them!

Hi Roger,

Reading your wonderful essay here this morning, I am reminded of a song by another of my favorite people - Harry Chapin.

His song "Flowers are Red" is about a little boy (his little boy?) who was taught (corrected!) in school about how to draw flowers and such.

The chorus early in the song starts with the teacher:

And she said...
Flowers are red young man
Green leaves are green
There's no need to see flowers any other way
Than the way they always have been seen

And the little boy said:

There are so many colors in the rainbow
So many colors in the morning sun
So many colors in the flower and I see every one

Of course, he's punished and corrected and begins to say it like everyone else does. Even when he moves to a new school, and the new teacher says:

The teacher there was smilin'
She said...Painting should be fun
And there are so many colors in a flower
So let's use every one

But he continues to paint flowers in neat rows of green and red, and when the teacher asks why he says:

Flowers are red, green leaves are green
There's no need to see flowers any other way
Than the way they always have been seen.

It's just a song. Fictional. But it matches nicely with your thoughts.

Here's Harry singing it, in a theater much like I saw him perform in a couple of times.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1y5t-dAa6UA

Thank you, Harry. And Roger.

That is a profound insight, by the way, that the laughter coach draws out of that gentleman:

"My kids may never know me as I want them to."

Wow.

How much do our kids know of our life before they came along? How much do they accurately know of our life with them even? I've given long thought to that question before, actually.

My kids will never know me as I want them to. Tee Hee.

Playing Pictionary is a fun way to draw, too, in part because it reminds you that what you are doing is communicating, not trying to make a perfect work of art. And you are so right about the value of capturing what you saw at a given moment because you may never see it that way again. That's why I write and take photos.

If you let yourself get wild enough, the end result can be like a collage of your personal dreamscapes.

I like to draw a bit but I just tend to leave drawings unfinished for some reason. maybe because I reach a point where I feel like I'm going to screw it up if I go any further or because an unfinished drawing is like having slightly less sugar in your coffee than it needs, it makes you yearn for more which is infinitely more satisfying.

My nieces love to draw. The funny thing is, one of them has been a perfectionist since she was two years old. She wants her drawings to match her idea of what an object should look like, and when they don't, she gets upset. Or used to. She's better about it now.

As soon as both of them come home from school (they're in kindergarten), they draw. And they draw for hours. I have received many drawings from them here in Seattle, which I treasure for the reason you give above: nobody else can draw like them. I hope both of them continue to draw well into adulthood.

Drawing (or writing or dancing or acting, or any other form of expression) always tells us something about the person doing the drawing. Also, we all have our own technique, which is partly skill, partly personality, partly hard work. But, for all of us, no matter how skilled or talented, it's all about the process. And once you fall in love with the process, you'll continue to indulge in the practice.

Finally, thanks for reminding me that I have to buy a sketch pad. I haven't forgotten your advice, and should get some practice in before the weather gets warm and I can draw outside so as to meet wo--so as to enjoy the scenery. :-)

P.S. My brother worked on the rock arch (with the harbor in the background), mountains, and rocks that can be seen in this trailer for The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim (though someone else did the textures). He's a very talented artist, and drawings of his hang in both my parents' and my sister's houses.

http://www.elderscrolls.com/

P.P.S. The drawings by Marie, Kelly, and Monica are fantastic, and yet, as if to prove your point, your sketch, Roger, brims with its own life.

I get suspicious when people start talking about all art being valid, but I see that you have a real appreciation for drawing. You are right; it’s easy to get too caught up in the results rather than the process. The process is valuable even if your work doesn’t resemble Andrew Wyeth’s.

I consider myself an artist, and I put time and effort into trying to make my drawings accurate. However, accuracy is not the main motivation, seeing is. Everything you see is seen and experienced much more clearly when you draw it.

The first time I heard the theory that all children draw until they are old enough to believe their drawings are bad was in the book Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain. I wonder if Annette Goodheart read that book.

It is true that you don't think the same way when you draw, when you think visually you are not thinking "this is a tree," or if you are thinking about the fact that it's a tree you think about it in addition to a lot of other things like how long the lines are, where the light is, and what you are feeling at that particular moment. According to the book I mentioned above, this is because when you draw you are using the right side of your brain, and the verbal side of your brain is on the left.

Ebert: I read that book and for all I know I attributed some of its suggestions to Annette. They're true either way.

Sir, you absolutely CAN draw. And not just in Paris, London, or Cannes. Don't overlook the rich visual textures of the great city of Chicago. Keep drawing. Doesn't have to be water colors or special pen. Just your eye.

Excellent article. My personal issue isn't so much the drawing or getting things to look exactly like they do in real life (give me a photo and I can probably pull off something like it) but 2 issues: 1) translating what is in my head and 2) feeling like I have no personal style. I spend way too much time comparing myself to others and feeling like I am more or less ripping off someone else's style than creating one that is uniquely my own.

I loved this column.(I first learned what a column was from our family friend Joe Aaron at the Evansville Courier. This blog entry is a lot like some of the more revealing of his daily columns...) I didn't notice typos.

I remember trying once to draw a portrait of my brother -- I was probably 11 at the time. It didn't look right to me. Perfectionism entered.

Now I have some time to spend in the country, and plenty to look at. I will take that step of paper, ink, no erasures. Start fresh. Look more closely. Look again.

Your blog adds so much to my life. Thank you again for it.

I always find it profoundly ironic whenever you lament your drawing skills.

As a child, I was surrounded by literal-minded thinkers (parents) who stressed the need to color-in-the-lines. And later as an adult, I was rewarded for my technical skill. Which is fine, as there's definitely skill involved when inking animation cels and such.

But as a result, I'm otherwise too stiff. I'm too exact and precise. And I fight against that, every time I want to render a looser sketch. I want it to look messy - but in "just the right way".

Chuckle!

Tim Burton - way cool.
John Singer Sargent - beyond awesome.

The trick is being able to see the lines that really matter, and just use those and ignore the rest....

http://blogs.suntimes.com/ebert/assets_c/2010/10/Sargent%20Grand%20Canal-26112.html

The above watercolor by Sargent is nothing short of a tiny masterpiece. If your soul can drop to its metaphorical knees in worship, mine does, every time I see this.

I love loosey goosey. And that's what Roger can do. His goose is very loose and why his color sketches have so much life. When things are loose, they move. The very thing he doesn't find as impressive, is the very thing I like best about his work.

I remember the first time I saw his sketchbook over at Flickr. I was filled with envy. And then Roger paid me a compliment about one of my own paintings and I was like "that's nice, but dude... your goose is looser!" :-)

"Just breezin' along with the breeze"

http://www.flickr.com/photos/rebert/4063767335/in/set-72157622708821838/

That's often the way with artists, though. It's nice when someone likes your stuff, but it doesn't stop your own eye from filling with wishful thinking. Roger wants to be tighter. I want to be looser. Roger doesn't think his dog is very good. And I'd proudly wear it on a t-shirt and show it off to all my pals. Seriously. I might even steal it. Get it silk-screened. He'd never know - he's in Chicago.

Smile.

"Lately I have been using Sketchbook Pro on my iPad to finish some sketches. And the same thing applies: not better or worse an other media, just different. A lot more forgiving than watercolor though." - Mike Spearns

Sketchbook Pro + Wacom Cintiq 21UX = alternate reality where watercolors never dry until you want them to. :-)

That said... everything that makes it easier for an artist to avoid working "too hard" can actually backfire on you, once you're separated form your technology. Whereas if you know you can't escape certain things, you learn to avoid doing them, which in turn makes you even faster then, when using technology because you muck about less.

Hopefully. :-)

Ebert: Why is it so much easier to approve of the work of others than of our own?

I want to draw. I really, really, do. But every time I put pen or pencil to paper, I freeze, knowing that the result won't even be close to the drawing I see in my mind. And it's a shame, because I know if I practiced, I could make it closer and create better artwork.

Writing has always come easily to me. I began writing when I was a child and wrote well enough beyond my age level that I was always praised. By the time I began working hard at it, I had become good enough that I was never frightened at trying to improve.

Perhaps I should take art classes. Then, as Don in Richard Bach's Illusions commented, I will have suffered enough to allow myself to draw well. (Same with bass guitar.)

15 seconds after I finished reading this entry, I found myself looking at a pad of watercolor paper purchsed for some craft project last fall, sitting here on the dining table. A pen rested nearby. I am one who says "I can't draw," but I've never really tried it for its own sake. Only in art classes in school, with the stress of a grade hanging over my head.

Now, maybe 6 minutes later, I've just completed an ink sketch of a silly item lying on the windowsill (a short "sword" used to roast marshmallows in the fireplace). There is something liberating about using ink: I can't be too much of a perfectionist if I don't have the option of erasing. And I find that I'm looking around for other things to sketch.

I write a bit, in a blog about the wildlife near my home. Perhaps next, I'll try a bird. Or a leaf. But I'll definitely try again.

Thank you for this entry, Roger. You've encouraged me to explore a side of myself I hadn't considered before.

As referenced in some of the above comments, this entry lends itself towards expansion to all art forms. Art and expression are such a vital part of the human experience that it is a shame that part of our culture takes joy in berating those with less talent. (Thinking of the early rounds in American Idol)

I teeter between the 'everything is beautiful' standpoint and the more realistic stance that there is a natural hierachy of talent and the more skilled artists deserve greater recognition.

As a film critic, you have written plenty of reviews for bad movies. Are these movies truly 'bad'? Are they not an accurate expression of how the film maker felt at the time of creating?I am perhaps taking the entry too far, as there surely is a difference between making imperfect private sketches and charging the public to see a poorly made film.

Maybe it's fair to say that everyone can be an artist, but to charge for your art it better be worthwhile?

I can't imagine myself drawing to capture a city, or sitting still long at a cafe to do it.

My tool is my camera. I've had many many experiences now of setting out to "see" a new city that I was in on business. I cover a lot of ground in a short time, and observe through the lens. Not just the standard tourist shots, but detail. I get a secondary experience of the city when I sit down to edit the shot collection. Love it.

For example, I had a couple of opportunities to visit New Orleans in the last year. 2 hours at a clip to walk through the French Quarter and experience it. I covered some ground on foot, and came out with pictures that I like to review later and remember. (Galleries at Lick Creek Photography - click on my name)

In fact, my whole photowebsite is just for me, to record my digital observations of where I've been and what I've seen. That anyone else may enjoy it too is a bonus.

One of my coworkers was looking at my site recently. He said this to me yesterday: "You know, when I looked through your pictures I realized that you shot at places that we've all been to many times and passed right by and you stopped and saw things that we missed." Ultimate compliment.

Roger, is there a website where we can see more of your drawings?

Your blog today reminded me of a wonderful book by Josh Waitzkin called "The Art of Learning." Movie watchers might remember Josh's early life story from "Searching for Bobby Fischer." That boy, who was a young chess prodigy, gave up competitive chess later in life, but he picked up Tai-Chi and went on to win multiple world championships.

Josh describes his own experience mastering chess as a child, then how he took what he learned about learning and mastered a martial art. He's highly introspective and insightful about the workings of his own mind and body. The writing is deep, but also joyful about the work and energy required to become an elite performer. Plus the scenes of his competitions make it a page turner!

As an artist, a pianist and an author for 15 years, I have to see the people, places and things I create from alternate perspectives. Having put up my art online and published one book, I learned that my work constantly changes. The idea is controversial but not inappropriate that 99% of my art is now done on the computer using Microsoft Powerpoint.
The characters I have created are based on people I have met in real life and envy to meet in the future, yet, the way I perceive them is through the eyes of a 7 year old child. No use of proportions or standards set by other artists with better history than me; just shapes, polygons, curves forming one person combined with bright colors and facial expressions.
If you yearn to draw, what do you take from the real world and put on canvas from all the people you met, worked with and places you've been?

Always remember, like film, the drawing board is the window to the other world where the grass is greener and either we get to touch the blades or we don't.

Don't worry about the grammatical errors. I get this feeling before I get my AARP card and before you leave this world that they will invent a mindtype device so your mind will produce words faster than your fingers. Keep your lobes crossed.

Beautifully said.

I'm a professional artist and have to remind myself of the simple pleasure of drawing, of being in the moment and recording what I see, what I feel, where I am. Your observation that this fixes the moment in memory is spot on. When I take a photo, I have the photo but not that strength of feeling or sharpness of recollection. When I make a drawing, I will recall all sorts of things about it later on. Where I was, whether the sun was out, if I had a café au lait in front of me, if I was on the edge of a cemetery or the side of the road, how the clouds looked overhead.

Often, people I meet seem to think that because I make art for a living, I'll hold their own efforts to an impossible (for them) standard. Not so, perhaps because, as you noted, I know how hard it is. And anyway, I can't draw the way they can! There have been times I've wished I could, but try telling that to a student who's blinded by perfectionism.

I may need that watercolor kit.

Thanks for the reminder about this (while I have a commission waiting on the easel and bills to pay and a head crowded with so much noise). I think it's time for me to find something to draw before today is over with.

As referenced in some of the above comments, this entry lends itself towards expansion to all art forms. Art and expression are such a vital part of the human experience that it is a shame that part of our culture takes joy in berating those with less talent. (Thinking of the early rounds of American Idol)

I teeter between the 'everything is beautiful' standpoint and the more realistic stance that there is a natural hierarchy of talent and the more skilled artists deserve greater recognition. As a film critic, you have written plenty of reviews for bad movies. Are these movies truly 'bad'? Do they have any artistic merit, at least to their own film makers? I am perhaps taking the entry too far, as there surely is a difference between making imperfect private sketches and charging the public to see a poorly made film.

Everyone can be an artist, but to charge for your art, it better be worthwhile?

Hi Roger -

I really enjoyed this post, and I read it this morning before heading off for a life drawing session. I'm hoping to find a way into drawing for a living, after having some education and a lot of practice, and just wanted you to know I was extra-inspired today by having read this, and had a fine day drawing.

Here's what I drew today under the influence of Ebert:

http://dustinresch.blogspot.com/

Ebert: I feel like a can read his mind.

That watercolor kit brings back images of architecture school--and oddly enough, its what the water color kit did and not so much the technical drawing skills I had that have really taken a hold of my research trajectory.

It reminds me very much of the narrator's plight in "The Little Prince". He was lucky enough to find someone who could recognise his elephant swallowed by a snake, so perhaps all is not lost for those of us who have forgotten the love of drawing.

I like to draw and most of my friends consider me good at it, but...

One friend of mine is a serious artist (oil and watercolor). I've seen only a few of her drawings, but one of them was of a cat playing with something tiny, and it humbled me. It was very quick and spare, many details just hinted at, or left entirely to the imagination. The tiny insect or bit of fluff was entirely invisible, not even a dot, but it was obviously there because the single-minded attention of the cat was so clear. And that left front paw! It was just one squiggle with a rather dull pencil, but it was batting at something! I don't know how that's possible, but I won't say I can draw well until I can achieve something like that one time in a hundred.

Like laughter, art is good for one's soul.

I had a similar situation myself not drawing, but with writing. Having had a sad bout of writer's block lately, one late evening I decided to break the spell with a small idea that just floated in not much earlier (nothing special, just a girl getting up and ready for her morning.) But what happened in the process reminded a lot of what you described here yourself, about letting the artwork carry itself.

Basically, previous bouts of writing had ended when I had gotten stuck on one word or another, tending to be very choosy about synonyms and meter. Here, I was finally annoyed with tendency, and decided to just write just how it was coming out of my mind, unfiltered and natural. The writing itself went along fine, and for once I didn't find myself wincing every sentence or so line by line. But in letting the story hold itself, I realized some very interesting things were happening.

First, the characters were surprising me. The initial personality of the main girl, for example was shy, but afterward started to linger on the soulful, and then spirited. After realizing a continuity error in one paragraph, where I had forgotten she was married despite mentioning her husband sleeping, I decided to acknowledge it and write the error in as her own, turning her into a much more mischievous character than I intended. After that following their brief conversation, it was interesting to see them develop, completely on their own and almost out of my control as I ran them.

The same also occurred with length. The story originally was not expected to exceed four paragraphs. The final length was nine pages, and most of it was on internal thought and description of action. Again, another example of letting the characters run the story.

Lastly, the amount of time spent on it. For a one-shot where I was writing with editing, I ended spending nearly 2 and a half hours on the thing. It got dedicated enough that even after I had to use the bathroom badly well after half and hour, I still kept going, and didn't stop for much longer.

In the end, it left highly astonished as to how the whole thing ended: still where I expected to, but with a whole lot more happening in between. Perhaps drawing is a lot like that. Years before I scoffed at the phrase "Who makes music, the harp or the man who holds it", but having now chosen to pull back and be less totalitarian on my works for once, I think it's fair to say that I'm starting to re-ponder the question.

(P.S. That makes me think, though, how would movies instead turn out if directors chose to take the same process and let the film go where it wanted?)

"Have you ever heard the old fable about when the devil offered all the tools of his trade to anyone who would pay their price? They were spread out on the table, each one labeled - hatred, malice, envy, despair, sickness - all the weapons that everyone knows so well. But off on one side, apart from the rest, lay a harmless-looking, wedge-shaped instrument marked discouragement. It was old and worn looking, but it was priced far above all the rest.

When asked the reason why, the devil explained: "Because I can use this one so much more easily than the others. No one knows that it belongs to me, so with it I can open doors that are tightly bolted against the others. Once I get inside, I can use any tool that suits me best."

Harvey MacKey

Maybe I missed it, but have you thought of publishing the art you've created on your travels? Or perhaps an exhibition one day? I know many Chicagoans would love to walk between the big green lions and into the Art Institute to see an Ebert Exhibit.

Ebert: Ha! Among them, me.

Speaking of laughter, here's what my status says on facebook today:

News Story: Man Shoots Man On Highway Because He Caught Him Making His Fart Face

i think you hit my problem on the head, im a writer, or at least i want to be. typing with my feet is slow. not neccessarly because my feet are slow, its correcting my mistakes that makes me tired; and before you say it. i HATE word prediction software; it crosses me up. interpretive sketches are fine. interpretive spellings of words? Not so much/
if you click on my name; you can read the book i wrote years ago. i should write my movie script (Youd love "the wildsnake conspiracy": Rog, think 'the fugitive' meets 'my left foot'. No, seriously)''''

Ebert: You need to write. That's the best kind of writer.

Architecture students were required to keep a sketch book when I was in school. I should draw more now. The first entry in my current book was drawn in September 2002. Reviewing the early sketches I noticed that I alternated between tatoos that I'll never get, and clocks that I haven't made yet. I did make a few items in the book - window treatments, computer table, storage shelving, shoe rack, head gear, door decorating contest entry.

I was laid off from my job a few years ago. The next job was horrible. I sat at the computer all day doing computer drafting. I was bored and in physical pain. After I was dismissed from employment I told a woman I met on a building tour field trip that I prefered drawing freehand first, then doing the computer work. The drawings in my sketch book have a lot more character than the same drawings in CAD. CAD is precise and to scale, but sterile. The woman told me that my hand is connected to my brain so it draws what I know I want to see.

I looked at a lot of your sketches (in photobucket I believe). I like them all. Inks, and colors. I think the coolest sketch I've drawn (final semester of graduate school) was a reflection of my childhood neighborhood: a boy in a Chicago Bulls cap chasing/taunting a girl in the school yard with a snake in his hand.

Continue writing, drawing, photographing (?), and making home videos. It's all art.

Ebert: That period when you hated your job. That must have been when your messages grew minimalist, right?

Like sketching, writing a journal has photographed memories into my head better than snapping pics would have. I wouldn't care if the journals all burned, for the memories are lasting.

I once took a night school course in art history where I learned that art lovers may come to enjoy not only the art but the craft such as the brush strokes used... like how I enjoyed your prose.

I loved the art of your piece. You started out light so we wouldn't take our art too perfectionist-ly, used delightful repetition of a main idea, and I smiled at how in the last paragraph you went from self to audience, from I to you.

What a lovely surprise was reading your beautiful article.
Who wouldn't want to have a talent for writing such as yours? Many of the points you bring in this blog are the subjects I constantly discuss with my art students and my family (all of which are artists). This is our never ending conversation.
As I mentioned to you last year, I just love your sketches. They show a great sense of humor, are very expressive and introduce your audience to your world.
I was recently asked to put in paper what painting watercolour means to me. I would like to share my answer with you:
To me, watercolour is like a door that, once opened, takes me to an interior world where paper, water and color morph into a game of unexpected challenges that seek for shapes and end up finding expressions.
With my paintings I'd like to invite the audience to:
-dialogue through silence.
-listen through their eyes.
-and reflect on every detail on the mistery of life.
Saludos. Monica

Ebert: Readers, Monica comes from a family of artistic renown in Mexico City.

Have you ever read "Le Petit Prince" by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

It loses a bit of it's charm in english (and as a video), but...

Dessine-moi un mouton!!!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R1EwtqkGRI4

Love it. Love it. Love it.

I'm have an art degree with a specialization in painting and have often shrugged sheepishly when anyone ever says I'm an artist, because my paintings aren't as skillful as those done by others.

This post spoke to me.

Ebert: Why is it so much easier to approve of the work of others than of our own?

Because we know what we want to achieve when we put pen, or pencil, or paintbrush, to paper, and the result never measures up, whereas other people only see the end result, and judge it on that. Plus, when I look at something I've written, I am not only reading what is in front of me, but all of the edits that led up to that piece of writing. Those edits are what cloud my view of what's in front of me.

Luckily, there is a method for learning to appreciate something you've drawn or written. It's called forgetfulness. No, really. Look back at something you've written or drawn years ago. You'll notice the mistakes if it's bad, but you'll also notice the perfections if it's good.

My psychologist teacher learned how to draw when he was at his friend's house with his other friends and that friend is an art teacher and s/he was like it's not really that hard ok go and draw that plant. and since there was no competition, they were able to relax and actually draw. and my teacher did find his inner talent/ability to draw and now draws from time to time. as a psychologist teacher, he said it's one of his archetypes he didn't discover. just like when a shy person becomes sociable.and he also said that when we're innocent, we just believe in justice, that whoever does wrong must be punish and when you're an adult you believe in mercy because we accept that people make mistakes

no eraser, what if i just accidentally stroke my pen that way???

i learned how to really draw by first tracing anime characters then just copying them and then sorta imagining them and drawing them. it really helps if you really wanna draw them and a little mind of perfectionist to get better.

drawing the essence of it? that sounds like either chinese or japanese painting.

I loved this blog entry. I also love drawing, and my original major was intaglio etching.

Studying art in college can be a treacherous endeavor filled with teachers who tell you ridiculous dogma: All artists must be Marxists, Bright colors aren't used by serious painters, or This is art and that is craft.

I still draw and have gone back to taking art classes. I'm surprised that many students don't want to keep notebooks. How do they think without sketching out their ideas?

I think drawing is much like dancing. We all start out as children wanting to draw, but are often told we don't do it well. Likewise, I think most children want to dance, but at some point told that they don't do it well.

Of course, then there was that crazy set of supervisors at Yahoo who told me I would never advance because I doodled during meetings AND regularly did my ergonomic exercises. That didn't stop me from doing either.

There are so many people who want to kill all the whimsy in life. Don't let them do it. Doodle on.

As an artist struggling to make money, I often attempt photo-realism because that's what people want (you can see some of my work at my website: http://davidlambertart.com) although I've never quite understood people's desire for that sort of thing. Why not just take a photo?

What I mean to say is, great piece.

Great post, Roger. I've drawn quite a bit (mostly comic-ish) and have received some encouraging responses to my pictures, but I primarily see the imperfections in my pictures, telling myself I'll never master the perfection of Robert Crumb or the beautiful simplicity of Chester Brown. Maybe I should just aim for the...whatever of me.

Thankfully, my college professors never saw my doodles, despite the fact that some were published in the monthly Physics department newsletter, of all places. Some of those Physics majors had more faith in my artistic abilities than I did. Those doodles also kept me in class. My true friends were anyone who would dare sit next to me after glancing at my notes.

As is the case with most of my creative endeavors, no one ever told me I couldn't do it, so I did. I still cringe at the thought of being called an artist, even if I do it for a living in one form or another. My father was the real deal, School of Visual Arts, freelance commercial artist for decades, amazing. I'm just a hack, and I'm fine with that. I would embarrass myself if I began calling myself an artist, as much as I love to create works of...

I have very little spacial awareness. I can't even set directions in the town I've lived my entire life. Representationalism isn't my forté, is what I'm saying.

"There is hope in honest error; none in the icy perfection of the mere stylist."

I wish I could remember who said that. I want to think Oscar Wilde, but the one he said that I remember is "Fashion is a form of ugliness so intolerable that we have to change it every six months."

Marie, having exchanged some comments with you, I feel the need to compliment you on your art. Beautifully done. There's an aura of late 19th century to it, I have an idea of a young woman in rural Manitoba from that era. Just an impression I have looking at it.

I loved Kelly Eddington's. Kids and books - two of my weaknesses. I think Neitzche said something like...in order to become truly mature, we must rediscover the earnestness of a child at play.

Monica Valero's work - if I'm not mistaken that is a reproduction of a photo from Roger's post about his father. It captures the love the man had for his son.

And Roger's scribble captures the energy of the scene. I can imagine the frantic scritching back of chairs, other people looking over in alarm or curiousity.

"Ebert: Ha! Among them, me."

Rog, betcha five bucks you'll have an exhbit of your art within the next six months....just sayin'...

Dear Roger, I am going to digress a bit in an off-topic post, but I need to tell you that you are and has always been my favorite film critic. I admire you both as a critic and as an intellectual. Our views are pretty much the same about the most important issues. It is a pleasure to read what you write. You are an inspiring person. You are very precious.

your fan,
Paulo

This essay contains some common stupid remarks about art. It is simply not true that all pictures of dogs look equally unlike dogs. The light reflected off a skillful drawing or painting of a dog strikes the eye in ways more like the way light reflected off a dog strikes the eye than the light reflected off an unskillful drawing. Skillful use of dark tones mimics the effect of shadows, one of the cues used by the visual system to judge 3-dimensionality. Perspective was a great breakthrough. The romantic notion that "all children can draw" and are ruined by discouragement of unconventional results is equal nonsense. Some children are obviously better draughtsmen than others from a quite early age. And let's not have that silliness about your drawing your unique dog and Durer drawing his. If I drew a dog nobody could tell it was a dog or a horse or a random assemblage of parts.

Ebert: You could.

I found it very interesting.

I guess I just thought of it as, those who can draw, and those who can't. I guess it's more about our own unique perspective.

I liked the punks in the pub drawing; the others too; also the laughter video.

I grew up displaying absolutely horrible artistic skills.
It was not until after graduating high school that I slowly came to the realisation I could draw if I'd only let myself draw things as crummy as I'd always had, and stop trying to do it well at all.
I eventually applied this approach to filmmaking when I made an experimental short called "Space Thing":
http://vimeo.com/10798779

I often see independent filmmakers who display great technical skill in putting together a film using all the latest digital technology, but whose work often lacks any real sense of passion or soul.

i know youre right roger. but the idea of writing for months on end, physically exhausting; without feedback; is extremely unappealing to me. call me lazy. Selfish. Thats just me;

Ebert: How about you go on Twitter? I'll follow you!

My nephew sent me this article on painting (I am a painter)> I use oils and went through a self-learning phase when I was 20+ and sketched non-existing things (you may call it doodling) but ti liked some of what I sketched and eventually started painting.
What is interesting is this - this article can be copied exactly for any artistic endeavor - for example writing. I am a writer too and I didn't go to any school for writing (just like my painting) - this all comes from the heart and transports me when I paint or write. In my 60's I continue to do both.
Lastly, this also applies to cooking and gardening (i do both) and to anything else one can think of (sculpting, pottery, music, piano, guitar ad infinitum) - so what's the main lesson or idea.
Do Not Be Afraid of doing whatever it is you choose. And judge the result by what you like not by what others may or may not like.

Reading this was my second recent epiphany about perfectionism. The first was about perfectionism causing procrastination ("If it can't be done exactly right, why do it at all?"). And now I've instantly re-evaluated another long-held assumption I've had: I can't draw very well. Oh I could draw okay; if I drew a dog, you could probably make out that it's a dog. I drew all the time as a kid, right up to about adolescence. At some point -- I can't pinpoint a moment -- I switched over to writing, where I could compose stories that move (drawings can be vivid, but they were always captured instances, static, frozen, and I liked to see characters develop and circumstances change).

I might have continued my meager drawing along with my better writing were it not for my brother, who really is a good visual artist who can make things look like the things they're supposed to look like. At one point I hit a wall and realized that my art wasn't improving like his was. Eventually I just stopped. I didn't realize I missed it until I read this and started thinking about some of my old drawings (mostly imagined characters and fantasy, the kinds of things I write about now instead of draw). That I won't ever be as good as my brother hasn't changed. But now I'm wondering why that matters if I enjoy it.

These journal entries are uncanny, and the video is a breath of fresh. As one who was convinced that he couldn't draw by any number of grammar school teachers, I applaud your resolve. I found mine when they told me I couldn't sing (which was true and still is to more of a degree than I'd like, but I didn't let it stop me). My California cousins convinced me I couldn't dance, too, and to this day I am particularly and wistfully enthralled by all visual artists and dancers. As for the video, my main gift seems to be an ability to make people smile, so it's yet another example to me of how high a calling that is. The well-named Goodheart is very skilled at it and using her gift nobly. It dawns on me that I could mesh these two thoughts by using my attempts at drawing and dancing to elicit gales of laughter from people.

two words. THANK YOU!!!

Dear Roger,

You may not really want to publish this as comment for the general audience, I just am not clever enough to have found an email address for you. That said, a friend of mine FB 'ed this article to me because because I have been working with children's drawings for along time. What you had to say about drawing, childhood naivete and erasers, ect., is particularly pertinent. I started out in college comparing children's self-portraits with their scores on standardized self-esteem test, and as you cite, the free flowing drawing without many attempts at correction scored very high, cross-hatching , broken line and asymmetric drawing score lower (inversely) proportional to self-esteem scores.
This is probably going to sound a little crazy, but I had a serendipitous moment 20 years ago, which left me with the unshakable notion that certain (abstractly expressive) drawings can be compared to the chart/drawing found in astrology--the birth chart.
I know it sound's nuts, but I've been doing this a long time, and I have been playing with your fire-in-the-ashtray sketch and your unstated birth time. (date and place being a given) . So , now, we can see if you did as well as my daughter did at giving me unconsciously projected astrological data--specifically, your actual birth time. at how you can see that my daughter expressed the birth position of her natal Moon, which conscious thought of as a beach.

My daughters (an experimental, assigned, drawing task ) a map of her personal island kingdom..its pretty great.. : )

http://pedantus.free.fr/HE/Image4.jpg

Now the mystery man...did Roger Ebert do as well as a child at giving away a facet of his unique identity, his actual birth time?

http://pedantus.free.fr/Ebert_R_01a.gif

This birth chart "guess" has you being probably born at about 2:49 AM (June 18, 1941, Urban, Il)

I really do wish I had a map of your "personal island kingdom" to work with, but I was just hoping you put the planets Mars in the ashtray, and that this mean low and central to the drawing.

It my premise that all drawings (that which is confined to two dimensions) obey the same 'rule' of some root, unconsciously coordinated, human 'artistic' function...that the drawing that is the birth chart of astrology is an evolved collectively unconscious projection...man's non-verbal search for a patterning ..a kind soul-print "image" as Johannes Kepler thought it to be.

Well, let me know what you think. Oh, and send me actual birth time if you please.

Thanks very much,

Rog

Roger L. Satterlee
Elmira , NY

Ebert: I actually don't know the time, but the year was 1942.

Here's a test. This is a drawing by someone known to me. Can you tell me anything about this person?

http://bit.ly/h2zL4C

that almost reminds me of how I write. like before writing it down, i'll try to organize them in my head to make it sound clearer and the meaning of it will come out stronger but then that's taking so long that all my other thoughts i forget and when i say it or write down it doesn't make any sense.

Ebert: How about you go on Twitter? I'll follow you!

I am on twitter @toetyper

ill make you a deal. lf you follow me, i promise to tweet at least 3 times a day. deal?'

Ebert: I'm there. Readers who Tweet: Follow @toetyper

What a lovely essay to discover when I clicked on your site Roger. Reading it felt like unwrapping a present.
There are a few people I am going to show this to. When we are very young we think we can do snything. Then we keep being told we can't. What a wonderful discovery to learn that they were wrong.

Thank you for this wonderful post.

I live in San Francisco (like Chicago, one of the country's great cities for architecture), and I'm always meaning to spend more time with a sketchbook. On the few occasions I've actually managed to sit and draw a bit of a building, I'm quietly delighted by how my relationship with the building is transformed. I KNOW that building now. In the way of friendships and experiences, it somehow belongs to me now.

I've just requested your Cannes book from the library. Thanks for mentioning it - and for sharing the great advice to always finish, and never erase.

Roger, sir,
This is great. I remember seeing a few of your watercolors in an earlier post. At the time I was unaware that you drew, and have been interested to discover more about your artwork. You have relayed a great lesson to me with this post.
Sincerely,
A long-time reader and fan
ps- the arsonists would have fit right in an issue of the national lampoon.

Ebert: That period when you hated your job. That must have been when your messages grew minimalist, right?

I had to reread my comment. I never said I hated my job. Ha!

April to August 2007. (That job lasted only four and a half months.) You may be correct. I read your journal entries and others comments for several months before I submitted anything. I didn't make any sketch book entries duting that time either.

Well i certainly love laughing, but as far as art goes....ill stick with movies and......VIDEO GAMES.....haha, i jest.

"...for example, at my own jokes."

Ha! Good one, Sir!

As for the "we can all draw argument," it's only partly true, in my opinion. Each of us can see and in doing so construe in our own mind's eye the image we see, but to what extent is our hand, moving on the page or canvas, a reflection of our mind's-eye image?

I say this because I'm aware of my own limitations at hand-eye coordination. When our clan gathers, we play a game called "corn toss" (or called "corn-hole" by the bawdier clan members, who are numerous) in which little pillow-shaped bags of cornmeal are tossed at a hole in a plywood board some thirty feet away. My 92-year-old father, who played golf all his life, wipes me out at this game every time we play. My mind's eye can create the image of the little pillows flying into the target hole, but my hand won't do my mind's bidding the way my father's well-trained hand will.

So, I'm just saying, when I attempt to draw, what I put on the paper is not an accurate representation of "my own woman in my own grassy field." It's more like a drunkard's rendition of the image in my mind's eye.

Still, thanks for the encouragement; I do believe I'll try drawing again.

Robert

About this conscious thought, and how I explaining earlier how anyone can be a genius, the trick is yin and yang, the conscious and the unconscious mind.

The unconscious mind , which processes thousands of times faster than the conscious mind, is doing things for us all the time: meaning effortlessly.

Knowing that the unconscious mind works at a much faster speed should effect how the conscious mind decides it wants to do something.

Anyway, as soon as the conscious mind sees a way to utilize the unconscious processing powers, at the exact same instant there will be a feeling of the conscious mind slowing things down and at which point one should be thinking,ironically, as soon as one has seen a way to solve something with the conscious mind, "Don't figure this out, don't figure out, don't figure this out"....and let the effortlessness do it all by itself.

So, you use the conscious mind to see a way, and the ironic thing is, at the exact time that you do see the way, you will be constantly thinking "Don't figure this out, don't think" etc. until the unconscious mind does it all by itself and the answer spontaneously appears.

So, you can't really have an ego about your drawings either, because the unconscious mind is doing it all by itself, but I suppose the unconscious mind is kind of who we really are and you have to not be afraid to face that in order to not constrain it: and perhaps that is the underlying philosophy behind art: which is really life or the life force, beckoning, as it were, symbolically represented: as we are symbolic creatures anyway: and perhaps negativistically so (hence the negative "DON'T figure this out"...or why NOT? and so on).

So in other words, art is about the energetic life force or the life forcefulness of the energy, perhaps time and space, but ultimately spontaneity: and spontaneity can't exist without anti-spontaneity. So, in visual arts, there is negative space and positive space; one represents time and the other represents space, or spontaneity would be the time, but space is the kind of lifelessness that is necessary to birth spontaneity. So, I think with visual arts, or with any art, you want to capitalize on the light, but you need the darkness to set it up. Perhaps, it all represents the genius within all of us, the conscious mind sets it up for the unconscious mind to knock them down.

A quote by Rodin, who considered, I think his drawings to be his masterpieces:

“[my] drawings are freer, they will bring greater freedom to the artists who study them, not by telling them to do as others do, but by revealing to them their own genius and inciting them to find their own momentum, by showing them the vast space in which they can develop."

Everyone do yourself a favor and google: Rodin drawings, or just look for his drawings: which there are thousands of them.

Here is one, where perhaps, you can see how the light, kind of bursting out (the spontaneity) in the background kind of like a universe of stars, couldn't really be possibly be anything without all the kind of darkness before it. Or going back to the time and space analogy, as it were, darkness (or positive space as the technical art term) is the space, and light (or negative space) is the light. Perhaps that's because that's the nature of spontaneity: out of a kind of darkness comes a sudden flash of light, kind of God's paintbrush.

http://blogs.princeton.edu/wri152-3/f05/fmiller/images/pl81bilitis.jpg

Speaking of which, art isn't completely art unless it praises art itself. So, that means that the piece as a whole should conspire to make all the individual elements, or components etc. a matter of joy that they wouldn't have been otherwise; I mean every single possible element that can be conceived....is elevated by art. So, think of all the elements in art. In music, it would be rhythm, notes, then how the notes play off eachother, and then how you compose it to where certain parts sing etc. and art is completely art when it transforms those concepts into a matter of joy that they wouldn't have been otherwise; with music, a rhythm by itself isn't really a matter of joy; you put music on top of that and suddenly rhythm is a matter of joy. So, with visual arts, there's color, shapes, light and dark again, and you have to make it where those elements sing where they wouldn't have as concepts without that conspiring. So, say, simply, the color orange. Well, by itself, orange isn't so hot, but you put some purple in there, and suddenly, oh, orange is great.

Like the Rodin drawing again here:
http://blogs.princeton.edu/wri152-3/f05/fmiller/images/pl81bilitis.jpg

There's that little orange around the purple of their hair, and you think, wow, that orange really brought out the purple hair, or the light. Or look at the light background, and how the orange looks like stars, bringing out the light.

That's kind of what it's about: how the dark brings out the light.

If you look at Marie Haw's and Kellie Eddington's work, what's interesting is where the dark brings out the light in the hair and in the dresses etc. how the darkness brings out the light, perhaps, kind of like time (light) and space (dark).

I mean, we're space, yet, we're animated by time. Art is the illusion of spontaneity. It's about living and being spontaneous; about not just being space about being about space, but about being about time to being about time.

Adding onto last comment, since art is about darkness bringing out the light, or perhaps, space bringing out the time, then it's all kind of part of the same fabric: and it's not really so much about WHAT it is, but about HOW the dark brings out the light.

So I'm back, having done some of the best and most FUN drawing I've done in ages -- sitting in a bar called 331 in Northeast Minneapolis, at a session of Dr. Sketchy's Anti-Art School.

This was my first time at Dr. Sketchy's, and Roger, I thought of you and this post so much. Beer, a burlesque performer for a model, the poses only about 20 minutes each. There was no time to think myself to death; I had to simply DRAW. You can see the results on my blog if you're curious. Dr. Sketchy's site is:

http://www.drsketchy.com

There are branches of this group all over the place, including one in Chicago. Some who attend are pro artists, others not, and they welcome all skill levels. I'm offering this link because going to Dr. Sketchy was such good medicine for me and I hope someone else will find their local group and have as great a time as I did.

In the days before photography, the ability to make a realistic and accurate sketch was an essential military skill. It was a part of every scouting mission, both overt and covert, and was taught at military acadamies.

The "Flurry of Excitement" drawing resembles a James Thurber cartoon.

"Ebert: Why is it so much easier to approve of the work of others than of our own?"

Because artistic ego always sets the bar higher for itself than for others.

Smile.

"Ebert: Why is it so much easier to approve of the work of others than of our own?"

Because when you look at your work you still compare to what you were trying to express, and see what might have been. When you look at another artist's work you don't have that history, so you just see what is. Your essay reminds me of one of my favorite art aphorisms - the difference between an artist and a non-artist is that the artist creates things. It doesn't matter what or how, and certainly doesn't matter if it's "any good". It's the process, the making, that enriches your life.

I have a degree in art education but I never taught in the schools after I finished my student teaching. There were no jobs when I graduated and I've ended up in retail management instead. It's very sad what's happened to the arts in the public schools in the US.

Roger, excuse this for being off-topic, but did you really think the Oscars were that bad last night? I admit, there were spots where it dragged quite a bit, and some of the Academy's attempts at appealing to a younger demographic were downright embarrassing (autotune "Twilight" song, anyone?). But overall, I enjoyed the show. I liked the contrast between Franco's deadpan sarcasm and Hathaway's wide-eyed enthusiasm. Like when they cut to Franco after Marisa Tomei presented the award to all the scientists and engineers behind recent technological breakthroughs in cinema; ("Congratulations, nerds.") Or when he told Anne he was offended by the titles of some of the nominees: '"How to Train Your Dragon?' That's disgusting." Not exactly a brilliant joke, true, but his delivery of it made me laugh. I liked the song Anne Hathaway performed, and I enjoyed the goofy but entertaining opening spoof.

Another plus: the show actually ran ON TIME. Well, not quite. But pretty damn close; it was about ten minutes over schedule from what I could tell - but that's a hell of a lot better than most years. And I enjoyed quite a few more of the speeches than I thought I was going to, Melissa Leo's notwithstanding (Adams was robbed!). Aaron Sorkin speaks just about as fast as his characters do, and was quite entertaining. David Seidler's speech, as you mentioned, was also quite memorable, as was Colin Firth's. Natalie Portman just exuded so much warmth and sincerity that it was nearly impossible not to cheer for her. I also really enjoyed Sandra Bullock's mini-speeches to the Best Actor nominees.

The show definitely deserves some criticism as a whole. It was not paced very well, and parts of it seemed rather sloppily constructed. But worst Oscarcast of all time? Seems a bit of a stretch.

The Nobel Prize winning physicist Richard Feynman learned to draw at the age of 44. He had an ongoing argument with an artist friend over the relative challenges of art vs. science, and agreed to take drawing lessons. He eventually became quite good. His favorite choice of subject was female nudes and he often went to a strip club near his office at Cal Tech to practice drawing. He signed his works as "Ofey". He even had some of his drawings exhibited at the Louvre. In my opinion, his biggest strength as an artist was his lack of fear - he just plunged in and did it, which is really how he lived his life overall. Your drawings have that feel also.

Great food for thought for the artist and non-artist alike. I have passed it on. Thanks Roger!

Roger,
Yes, your birth date,June 18, 1942 that is the date I used in the chart-v-drawing comparison (above)...My gaff, 1941, was just a typo. Its really is too bad that you don't know your birth time. Well, If ever you see the exact time on the long form of your birth certificate, we can see what the results of my analysis come to.

Here's the way you want to see drawings for comparisons. You of course were born on Paul McCartneys birth date. Thus you and Paul have the same conjunction of Mars and Pluto near the Moon in your respective natal charts. Here then is how McCartney expresses the same thing you expressed when you showed the sketch of the lighter fluid fire in the ashtray. His individual variation on that same "influence" (to use a really misleading but popular term), his painting, "Boxer Lips":

http://www.maccafan.net/Library/Paintings/BoxersLips.jpg

A portion of his commentary on it, from an interview with Wolfgang Suttner:
http://www.maccafan.net/Library/Paintings/Paintings.htm

"[..]Wolfgang Suttner: He is really perfect.

Paul McCartney: He is really nice. There is something of me in this, I don't know why, I don't know how to describe it, but a lot of these ideas you can see the germs of back in my schoolbooks, old schoolbooks I have: little scrawlings, rude ladies, naked girls, things I was awakening to, and the thrill was being able to conjure them up like an illusionist. [..]"

Do you see what you two have in common, yet? Hint: you have to think like a critic.... : )

Rog

A slightly different spin on this topic involves one of my nieces who showed astounding drawing ability as a preschooler. Her sketches, understandably more "cartoony" than realistic, were amazingly stylized and beautiful. And she produced great volumes of them, seemingly without effort. She’s the only person I have ever known that I’d seriously consider to be a prodigy.

Unfortunately, this actually scared her parents (who bring to mind the "Upper-class Twit of the Year" segment from Monty Python). All they could think about was their daughter as one of those "starving artists." Couldn't have that. Can you imagine parents feeling that way—about their preschooler?!

I should have reported them for abuse, but instead I tried to encourage this girl over the years, which was tough since we lived many states apart. I sent supportive notes and art books to her on special occasions, which thrilled the parents, I’m sure.

But sadly, I think her family slowly drove the artist into hiding, using all those techniques that parents and societies use to steer kids into "good futures." By high school, she stopped displaying the magic. She's now in college, majoring in—gulp—accounting. As did her dad.

The irony is that my son has a friend who was also a talented artist in his youth. This guy got a job creating the visual worlds for video games, at an impressive salary for a 20-year-old. It wouldn’t surprise me if he out-earned an entry-level accountant. He's hoping to take his talent to France someday.

All I can do is hope that my niece has an epiphany now that she's away at school. Maybe her suppressed artist will emerge in a rage, as she becomes more and more imprisoned in the grids of the spreadsheet. Here’s to hope, Kayla.

I used to draw a lot as a kid. Especially Superman. At some point I decided my drawings weren't any good and I stopped drawing. Completely. Still, whenever I have a piece of chalk in my hand, invariably I'll draw the best "S" shield you've ever seen. Or at least the best I've ever seen. Over and over again. I should start drawing again.
Thanks!

Hi Roger:

My daughter is an artist and has been ever since she put crayon to paper at age 3. She's 26 now and has a degree in fine art from Concordia in Montreal. Anyway, when she was 2-ish, she'd sit on my knee and tell me "draw Kevin swinging in the tree" and I would try and she obviously thought the image was magical! What a feeling for a parent.

We read (or rather I read and they listened) voraciously from the same early age. I got to the point with my daughter very early on where I was running out of "age appropriate" books. I was reading "The Secret Garden" to her when she was 3 and a half, and asked her if it bothered her there were no illustrations- at least in this one there weren't. She told me "don't worry Mummy, I can see it all in my head."

What a revelation. She drew so much I couldn't keep her in paper. The dining room, which could have used a coat of paint anyway, was plastered with her art from floor to ceiling. Sometimes with one of her more convoluted drawings I would ask her to tell me the story behind it, and I would write it down in a blank space on the page. I still have these creations and I am brought back instantly to the moment, and her complete absorption in the whole process. She couldn't write of course, but to her that was what she was doing- creating a story.

At the cottage where we had no TV or other distractions, I'd bring along a large cardboard sheet and the kids would draw pictures inspired by what ever we were reading ("The Rats of Nimh" was one)- and these we would cut out and paste collage-style to the cardboard. The adults did their share too. It kept everyone busy over many days when we'd run out of other things to do, like swimming or jaunts in the rowboat. Great memories. Even my son who was the youngest could draw bugs, hornets being his favourite, to add to the story board.

Art and the imagination are so crucial in children's development, but sadly we seem to forget that with age. And the school system really fails to take advantage of the creative abilities of children. But parents can easily have fun with their kids at home without the worry of perfectionism. I felt that I got to revisit my childhood while doing these things with my son and daughter.

I enjoy you're column so much because I never know what topic will grab your interest next. Thanks Roger!

Oh. I just hate this sort of thing. I too like Robert above simply don't have the hand eye coordination to draw. I can't draw a straight line..really. Not even using a ruler.

And let's face it. Much of drawing IS an inborn skill. I believe that studies of congenitally blind children have shown that those whose parents have better ability to draw with perspective can actually do so themselves (presumably because their brain and hands are geared for it). How much more proof would one need that it's not some fear of perfection but brain issues which may lead to one's ablity to draw.

What I "hate" about this is the preverse (in my view) thinking that everyone must be good at everything. That admitting or accepting you are not is a form of defeat or a lack of self worth. Rather than a willingness to take joy in the things that one can do and not worry at all about those things one can't.

Roger, this entry really hits home for me, as it obviously does for so many others. The horribly constricting vise (and vice) of perfectionism -- AUGH!!!

I loved to draw as a boy, but set it aside by my late teens. I'd gotten "mature enough" (ha!) to know that I didn't have any really skill as an artist & I shouldn't waste my time trying. That attitude managed to stay firmly in place for more than 4 decades (although I wrote for a time & even had a couple of so-so fantasy novels published in my 20s -- dreadfully overwritten & stiff & leaden, except for the last one, which I still like -- all long out of print, of course).

But about 3-4 years ago, I decided to forget that I absolutely didn't have any artistic talent & just plunged into it. I dabbled in paint, continue to sketch & cartoon -- but very soon I discovered a real knack for collage. I started by buying a pack of children's flash cards in a thrift shop for 25 cents, and making images on them. Then I started using thin canvas boards. Much to my utter delight, I discovered that I could create evocative images.

At this point I've entered 3 local juried art shows & had work selected for each one. I won't deny the pleasure & pride of that, not for a moment! But I honestly have to say that the real joy comes from creating something, pulling together images & emotions until they suddenly cohere into something that didn't exist a moment ago. There's a certain very pure & primal satisfaction about that!

Though you're right about being the worst judge of one's own work. I've made pieces that I considered failures, only to have others rave about them. (And vice versa, too.)

Why does our culture undervalue creativity for its own sake so much? Why is it that if you mention that you paint, or write music, or poetry, or ___________ (fill in blank), the first thing many people ask is, "Yeah, but can you make any money doing that?" If there's one thing I truly believe after 57 years, it's that the soul must be nourished & nurtured. I'm not talking about egocentric navel-gazing, mind you -- creativity is about the act & the creation itself, not the ego. Auntie Mame was right, "Life IS a banquet and most poor suckers ARE starving to death!"

If you're interested, you can see some of my work at:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/22309932@N05/

And thank you to everyone posting links to their work!

"Nor does a photograph look like a dog. You see my point."

Well, I see a two-dimensional representation of your point...

Roger:

Matisse famously said: "It took me my whole life to learn how to draw like a child."

You should look into a couple of children books my daughters, and I, love: 'The Dot' and 'Ish" by Peter A. Reynolds... Right to the point of your blog... I recommend them to every parent I know, and gift them often...

Regards.

Muammar Gaddafi is just 11 days older than Roger Ebert. Both like to draw. Both are movie aficionados. If Muammar hadn't gone evil and mad, they might even have become Facebook friends.

Hi Roger,

This make me smile, so I thought I'd share it with you: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ykwqXuMPsoc

How are the memoirs coming along?

My last comment got lost so I'll just try to write it again.

About what I said earlier about how everyone can be a genius, it's about using your whole mind, your conscious and your unconscious mind: yin and yang.

Your unconscious mind is processes thousands of times faster than your conscious mind; by itself it is doing things for us all the time: meaning effortlessly: such as when you open a dictionary on the exact page you were looking for, or maybe you seemingly clumsily do something and it turned into something perfect, like you accidentally toss your pen up and then when you catch it the pen balances in the palm of your hand for a moment: it's helping you google; your eyes will go to the exact point on the page that you didn't know you were looking for. The point is these are not accidents. If your conscious mind is pure and it's looking for truth, the unconscious mind will, at thousands of times a faster speed, help it out.

So, knowing what the unconscious mind can do should help you figure out a logic, any logic, to solve something.

So, genius is effortless.

So, what happens is that as soon as your conscious mind sees a logic to solve something, just the logic, what happens at that exact instant is you'll, ironically, be thinking "Don't figure this out, don't figure this out....with this logic to figure this out." So, there's a duality and a paradox to genius, which is that the moment your conscious mind figures a way to do something out, you have to with that very same logic, tell it NOT to figure it out, and the unconscious mind will effortlessly figure it out; spontaneously the answer will appear.

Genius is another language.

About spontaneity, it is said that God is spontaneity.

But what I wanted to get to was...

Art is the illusion of spontaneity.

It's about how the darkness brings out the light: which is perhaps the nature of spontaneity; in a little quiet darkness comes a sudden yet gentle light or energy.

Perhaps it's about genius itself. It's about how the darkness that is our conscious mind, brings out the light from the unconscious mind; it's about our highest achievements, like Beethoven's 9th symphony. About everyone becoming a genius, or in other words, being kind of the agents of God or the infinite: being the universe personified (which I'm pretty sure is an oxymoron) or being a part of being itself.

Here's what Rodin says about his drawings, which I think he said that he considers those, and not his sculptures, to be his masterpieces:

“[my] drawings are freer, they will bring greater freedom to the artists who study them, not by telling them to do as others do, but by revealing to them their own genius and inciting them to find their own momentum, by showing them the vast space in which they can develop."

Also, everyone, do yourself a favor and google: Rodin drawings; or just look for his drawings: there are thousands of them.

So here's a drawing here by Rodin:

http://blogs.princeton.edu/wri152-3/f05/fmiller/images/pl81bilitis.jpg

As art is the illusion of spontaneity, or how the darkness brings out the light or perhaps how God works showing the nature of spontaneity and perhaps further how we can become agents of God or the infinite and about becoming genius' and our highest achievements (darkness is our conscious mind bringing out the effortless spontaneous light of our unconscious minds),

let's look at how the darkness brings out the light of the drawing.

But also, art isn't art, or completely or really art, if it doesn't praise art itself, which means that all of the elements should conspire to make each individual elements a matter of joy, or just kind of elevates those individual elements that they wouldn't have been otherwise. And when I mean each individual elements, I mean every possibly element or component that can be conceived as part of what constitutes art. So, with music, there's rhythm, the notes, and how the notes are composed to make certain parts sing (darkness bringing out the light etc.). So, rhythm by itself isn't really anything itself, but if you put music on top of that and suddenly rhythm itself is a matter of joy or is elevated or should be elevated (most music doesn't really put much care into elevating the concept of rhythm).

Or with art, there's orange. Orange by itself isn't so hot, but maybe you put some purple next to it, and suddenly orange is great.

So, looking at the Rodin drawing,

You see how the Orange (or darkness) when it outlines the purplish-white (light) of the hair, then you see what I mean about how all the elements should conspire to make each individual element a matter of joy, and ultimately to make the darkness bring out the light; you can see how in the background the orange, looking kind of like stars, is helping to bring out the light in the background, by being scattered about it: and the light is really shining; it's also has little dark lines that are like rays bringing out the light.

Let's look at another part of the same drawing (here it is again http://blogs.princeton.edu/wri152-3/f05/fmiller/images/pl81bilitis.jpg).

This part is really great.

Look at the two little dark areas under the women. Notice how the darkness organically, which is also kind of to say gradually, (as art is the illusion of spontaneity) brings out the light; it's really dark then you notice how suddenly there's light and it has pink around it; the darkness brought out the light.

I suddenly lost my train of thought.

But anyway, that's what art is supposed to be about, how the darkness brings out the light.

Many artists need suggestions for ways to look more closely at the world around them and then be able to suggest it as concisely as possible, whether in word or brush stroke.

For me, long fluid gestures are far downriver, now. Physical strength and dexterity are also required for the drawing medium, as they are for shooting a three-pointer in a perfect arc. Frustration and fatigue can cause people who have been drawing or painting all of their lives to want to give up.

However, a lovely friend sent me a link that has really helped me to find drawing rewarding again, now that my strength for it has diminished. The only materials I need for it are a pocket-sized blank moleskin notebook and a fine-point ink pen.

The website "Zentangles" explains the form. Others call it creative doodling. A google image search will bring up many examples of people's work. There is a youtube tutorial that shows how one can make a mandala by filling in a circle. I find this exercise also grants satisfaction because the drawings can be finished quickly.

While doing these drawings, I have found a greater affection for the objects and sights in my immediate vicinity. And, I still need practice at being concise. :)

--Liz

Dear Mr. Ebert;

My name is Steve Catanio and I'm a student at Sacramento State University. I am writing a 1-2 page paper in which I must interview someone I admire. If it's not too much trouble could you send me a response to five questions (listed below) for my paper? (They don’t have to be too long). I know it's rather tedious and that you’re incredibly busy but it would be a great help to me and I would be sincerely grateful.

I have been an avid watcher of your show for years until they took it off the air. I am also a fan of your many writings. You have a genuine insight that I've always admired and I thank you for your continual commitment to the arts (In the past I’ve posted on your blog under the nickname "Zeiram").

After my questions I included a sample movie review I wrote on Blu-Ray.Com's blog (if you wish to read it). Perhaps you could give me some advice?—(I wouldn't mind maybe writing reviews for my school paper sometime).

Regardless of whether you respond to this message or not, thank you so much for all you do. I know that it has influenced me (and a whole theater of others) in a positive way.

Roger Ebert Interview Questions:

1) What made you first want to become a film critic?

2) Who are the individual(s) in your life that have inspired you?

3) It has become increasingly difficult to "sell" ideas in the film industry. What sorts of stories would you like to see film makers do more of and what kind of advice do you give to aspiring storytellers?

4) What skills/education is most important to have for this job?

5) What makes a good critic vs. a bad one in today's ever-changing movie environment?

Thanks again. Look forward to any kind of response (either in my e-mail or here)

A DREAM COME TRUE.
Movie Review of “Inception” By: Steve Catanio

How do you define cinematic perfection? Lawrence of Arabia took us on an epic emotional journey. Movies like Jaws let loose our deepest fears. Star Wars freed up our imagination into a galaxy far, far away. Add to that list: a big white van freefalling into a river of uncertainty.

Christopher Nolan is the film maker of our generation. For nearly 20 years he has captivated audiences with complex ideas, emotionally wrenching pathos and even more audacious spectacle. Memento unleashed a fury of cinematic genius. The Dark Knight, an eloquent sonnet of ideas. Now with Inception, Nolan immortalizes his greatness with an operatic opus. Few film makers have dared to dream as big as Chris Nolan. Even fewer have gotten away with such inspired pursuits by the age of 40.

Explaining the movie to the uninitiated is rather pointless. Inception is all those loosely floating adjectives and more; words likely to render its viewers obsolete (or very numb). If you managed to explain it to someone you’d still leave room for improvement. The key is to let its power wash over you. It remains in the words of a prominent critic: immune to spoilers. Part action movie, sci-fi drama, global espionage thriller and psychological character study; Inception feels like the culmination of the last 20 years of cinema. All its strengths manifested into one slick package.

Dom Cobb (Leonardo DiCaprio) is the world’s most skilled “extractor", a person who enters someone’s mind to steal their ideas. Mainly contract work for rival organizations who want the skinny on their competition (think corporate espionage on the high-tech). The latest comes from CEO Saito (Ken Watanabe) who wants Cobb to perform one final task. Inception (the birth or beginning of an event) is something never before attempted: the implanting an idea, in this case into young rival CEO Robert Fisher (Cillian Murphy). A powerful man like Saito believes that Cobb can pull it off. But things won’t be easy. Cobb is tormented by the premature death of his wife Mal (Marion Cottiard), who keeps appearing throughout his subconscious as shades of a happier past life.

Such things eat away at the man from the inside, escalating suspicion of his involvement with her alleged murder. In exchange for Cobb’s services, Saito will award him the freedom to return home to his family free of any negative repercussions.

To do that, Cobb must assemble a dream team (no pun intended) of gifted extractors. After a rendezvous with his father-in-law at a local college, Prof. Stephen Miles (the always reliable Michael Caine), Cobb is introduced to Ariadne (Ellen Page); an aspiring architect who is highly skilled at creating mazes. Though weary at first, the young student is intrigued at the idea of creating whole cities using her imagination. Using advanced machines, Cobb will utilize her gifts to mold the dream space; the playing field where extraction can take place. Like a maze of the subconscious, it’s a huge city that can alter shape and size. Sometimes “folding over itself” as if a mirror image (a thrilling sequence that doubles as a moment explaining to the audience how everything works).

Nolan’s dream project (again, no pun intended) came about through almost two decades of planning and it really shows. On one level, it plays like an advanced “Ocean’s Eleven” but at its heart’s core lie the makings of an emotional domestic drama. For if one took the action spectacle of “The Matrix”, combined with the perplexing dilemma of “Shutter Island” (also starring Leonardo DiCaprio), mixed with the ironic pathos of “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind”, the elucidating drama of “Synecdoche New York” and the thrilling mental juggling act of “Memento”; one might begin to appreciate Inception’s level of dynamism and scope. This is a $200 Million Budget art film with the sensibilities of a traditional crowd-pleasing blockbuster.

During initial viewing this can all be very complex but the movie is never confusing in my opinion. I was entranced by the film’s pull and found its narrative choices very engaging. Nolan, along with his brilliant team of technical wizards do a fine job of balancing each element so as not to leave viewers too disoriented (but I suppose that’s part of the fun). Each thrilling sequence is more elaborate than the last, bringing Cobb and his team closer to retribution.

The rest of Nolan’s talented (and geographically diverse) cast consists of stars in their own right at the peak of their cinematic prowess. Among them Bronson’s Tom Hardy who’s understated yet powerful work is simply magnificent. Nolan regulars like Cillian Murphy and Sir Michael Caine. Acting veterans like Ken Watanabe, Dileep Rao (Avatar), Tom Berenger and Pete Postlethwaite in fine supporting roles. But it’s really Marion Cottiard who shines as Cobb’s tormented wife. The Oscar®-winner does overtime playing many different facets to her personality; each one sad, exciting, scary and yes, sexy. Also, Ellen Page’s ephemeral beauty has never looked better with the help of Wally Pfister’s stunning cinematography (which often resembles a beautiful painting come to life). Front and center is DiCaprio who turns in one of the finest performances of his career.

Powerful images ignite the screen during the climatic showdown; as three converging events blend the narrative towards a thrilling conclusion. In Nolan's world, the dreams can be altered as imprints of the subject’s subconscious pose a danger (often manifesting themselves as physical threats). Things get interesting when our heroes get trapped inside the different layers of the dream world. Together they must devise a plan to emerge before the imprints of Fisher’s mind come crashing down. Forcing them into limbo, a dark place where you can’t initiate a “kick” to get out of the dream and back to reality (I haven’t even mentioned that ridiculously catchy tune yet).

In one instant classic sequence, Cobb’s long time point-man Arthur (Joseph Gordon-Levitt in a star making role) engages in a vertigo-induced fight down a hotel corridor where gravity is clearly not an issue. The last 45 minutes of the movie in particular were so engaging that it nearly left me in tears. The catharsis are Shakespearean in their level of clarity and leaves one feeling as emotionally wound up as Cobb's totem (a small top-like device dreamers use as a reminder to keep their level of reality in check). In the end, it remains the film’s most recurring and iconic image.

Inception is a movie that sticks with you. The film’s final moments are magnificent. As moving as anything I've ever seen and takes its rightful place with the greatest movie endings of all time. Right up there with Citizen Kane, It’s a Wonderful Life, Casablanca and (yes) The Wizard of Oz. Nolan's film is above all things a dream come true. I could go into limbo citing its many worthy praises. One requires their brain work faster in order to compensate. It remains an enigma beautiful and illimitable; right from the very first frame.

Combine that with miraculous feats of editing, production design, groundbreaking visual effects, stunning pyrotechnics and emotionally wrenching music by Academy Award®-winning composer Hans Zimmer and what you have is a huge dose of cinematic heaven. You simply must take a leap of faith and discover it for yourself. I think you’ll find the journey to be well worth it. I look forward to the decades of praise in store for this modern classic. Just give me a huge kick when it’s all over.

Dear Mr. Ebert;

My name is Steve Catanio and I'm a student at Sacramento State University. I am writing a 1-2 page paper in which I must interview someone I admire. If it's not too much trouble could you send me a response to five questions (listed below) for my paper? (They don’t have to be too long). I know it's rather tedious and that you’re incredibly busy but it would be a great help to me and I would be sincerely grateful.

I have been an avid watcher of your show for years until they took it off the air. I am also a fan of your many writings. You have a genuine insight that I've always admired and I thank you for your continual commitment to the arts (In the past I’ve posted on your blog under the nickname "Zeiram").

After my questions I included a sample movie review I wrote on Blu-Ray.Com's blog (if you wish to read). Perhaps you could give me some advice?—(I wouldn't mind maybe writing reviews for my school paper sometime).

Regardless of whether you respond to me or not, thank you so much for all that you do. I know that it has influenced me (and a whole theater of others) in a positive way.

Roger Ebert Interview Questions:

1) What made you first want to be a film critic?

2) Who are the individuals in your life that inspire you?

3) It has become increasingly difficult to "sell" ideas in the film industry. What sorts of stories would you like to see film makers do more of and what kind of advice do you give to aspiring storytellers?

4) What skills/education is most important to have for this job?

5) What makes a good critic vs. a bad one?

Thanks again. Look forward to any kind of response (either in my e-mail or here)

A DREAM COME TRUE.
Movie Review of “Inception” By: Steve Catanio

How do you define cinematic perfection? Lawrence of Arabia took us on an epic emotional journey. Movies like Jaws let loose our deepest fears. Star Wars freed up our imagination into a galaxy far, far away. Add to that list: a big white van freefalling into a river of uncertainty.

Christopher Nolan is the film maker of our generation. For nearly 20 years he has captivated audiences with complex ideas, emotionally wrenching pathos and even more audacious spectacle. Memento unleashed a fury of cinematic genius. The Dark Knight, an eloquent sonnet of ideas. Now with Inception, Nolan immortalizes his greatness with an operatic opus. Few film makers have dared to dream as big as Chris Nolan. Even fewer have gotten away with such inspired pursuits by the age of 40.

Explaining the movie to the uninitiated is rather pointless. Inception is all those loosely floating adjectives and more; words likely to render its viewers obsolete (or very numb). If you managed to explain it to someone you’d still leave room for improvement. The key is to let its power wash over you. It remains in the words of a prominent critic: immune to spoilers. Part action movie, sci-fi drama, global espionage thriller and psychological character study; Inception feels like the culmination of the last 20 years of cinema. All its strengths manifested into one slick package.

Dom Cobb (Leonardo DiCaprio) is the world’s most skilled “extractor", a person who enters someone’s mind to steal their ideas. Mainly contract work for rival organizations who want the skinny on their competition (think corporate espionage on the high-tech). The latest comes from CEO Saito (Ken Watanabe) who wants Cobb to perform one final task. Inception (the birth or beginning of an event) is something never before attempted: the implanting an idea, in this case into young rival CEO Robert Fisher (Cillian Murphy). A powerful man like Saito believes that Cobb can pull it off. But things won’t be easy. Cobb is tormented by the premature death of his wife Mal (Marion Cottiard), who keeps appearing throughout his subconscious as shades of a happier past life.

Such things eat away at the man from the inside, escalating suspicion of his involvement with her alleged murder. In exchange for Cobb’s services, Saito will award him the freedom to return home to his family free of any negative repercussions.

To do that, Cobb must assemble a dream team (no pun intended) of gifted extractors. After a rendezvous with his father-in-law at a local college, Prof. Stephen Miles (the always reliable Michael Caine), Cobb is introduced to Ariadne (Ellen Page); an aspiring architect who is highly skilled at creating mazes. Though weary at first, the young student is intrigued at the idea of creating whole cities using her imagination. Using advanced machines, Cobb will utilize her gifts to mold the dream space; the playing field where extraction can take place. Like a maze of the subconscious, it’s a huge city that can alter shape and size. Sometimes “folding over itself” as if a mirror image (a thrilling sequence that doubles as a moment explaining to the audience how everything works).

Nolan’s dream project (again, no pun intended) came about through almost two decades of planning and it really shows. On one level, it plays like an advanced “Ocean’s Eleven” but at its heart’s core lie the makings of an emotional domestic drama. For if one took the action spectacle of “The Matrix”, combined with the perplexing dilemma of “Shutter Island” (also starring Leonardo DiCaprio), mixed with the ironic pathos of “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind”, the elucidating drama of “Synecdoche New York” and the thrilling mental juggling act of “Memento”; one might begin to appreciate Inception’s level of dynamism and scope. This is a $200 Million Budget art film with the sensibilities of a traditional crowd-pleasing blockbuster.

During initial viewing this can all be very complex but the movie is never confusing in my opinion. I was entranced by the film’s pull and found its narrative choices very engaging. Nolan, along with his brilliant team of technical wizards do a fine job of balancing each element so as not to leave viewers too disoriented (but I suppose that’s part of the fun). Each thrilling sequence is more elaborate than the last, bringing Cobb and his team closer to retribution.

The rest of Nolan’s talented (and geographically diverse) cast consists of stars in their own right at the peak of their cinematic prowess. Among them Bronson’s Tom Hardy who’s understated yet powerful work is simply magnificent. Nolan regulars like Cillian Murphy and Sir Michael Caine. Acting veterans like Ken Watanabe, Dileep Rao (Avatar), Tom Berenger and Pete Postlethwaite in fine supporting roles. But it’s really Marion Cottiard who shines as Cobb’s tormented wife. The Oscar®-winner does overtime playing many different facets to her personality; each one sad, exciting, scary and yes, sexy. Also, Ellen Page’s ephemeral beauty has never looked better with the help of Wally Pfister’s stunning cinematography (which often resembles a beautiful painting come to life). Front and center is DiCaprio who turns in one of the finest performances of his career.

Powerful images ignite the screen during the climatic showdown; as three converging events blend the narrative towards a thrilling conclusion. In Nolan's world, the dreams can be altered as imprints of the subject’s subconscious pose a danger (often manifesting themselves as physical threats). Things get interesting when our heroes get trapped inside the different layers of the dream world. Together they must devise a plan to emerge before the imprints of Fisher’s mind come crashing down. Forcing them into limbo, a dark place where you can’t initiate a “kick” to get out of the dream and back to reality (I haven’t even mentioned that ridiculously catchy tune yet).

In one instant classic sequence, Cobb’s long time point-man Arthur (Joseph Gordon-Levitt in a star making role) engages in a vertigo-induced fight down a hotel corridor where gravity is clearly not an issue. The last 45 minutes of the movie in particular were so engaging that it nearly left me in tears. The catharsis are Shakespearean in their level of clarity and leaves one feeling as emotionally wound up as Cobb's totem (a small top-like device dreamers use as a reminder to keep their level of reality in check). In the end, it remains the film’s most recurring and iconic image.

Inception is a movie that sticks with you. The film’s final moments are magnificent. As moving as anything I've ever seen and takes its rightful place with the greatest movie endings of all time. Right up there with Citizen Kane, It’s a Wonderful Life, Casablanca and (yes) The Wizard of Oz. Nolan's film is above all things a dream come true. I could go into limbo citing its many worthy praises. One requires their brain work faster in order to compensate. It remains an enigma beautiful and illimitable; right from the very first frame.

Combine that with miraculous feats of editing, production design, groundbreaking visual effects, stunning pyrotechnics and emotionally wrenching music by Academy Award®-winning composer Hans Zimmer and what you have is a huge dose of cinematic heaven. You simply must take a leap of faith and discover it for yourself. I think you’ll find the journey to be well worth it. I look forward to the decades of praise in store for this modern classic. Just give me a huge kick when it’s all over.

Dear Mr. Ebert;

My name is Steve Catanio and I'm a student at Sacramento State University. I am writing a 1-2 page paper in which I must interview someone I admire. If it's not too much trouble could you send me a response to five questions (listed below) for my paper? (They don’t have to be too long). I know it's rather tedious and that you’re incredibly busy but it would be a great help to me and I would be sincerely grateful.

I have been an avid watcher of your show for years until they took it off the air. I am also a fan of your many writings. You have a genuine insight that I've always admired and I thank you for your continual commitment to the arts (In the past I’ve posted on your blog under the nickname "Zeiram").

After my questions I included a sample movie review I wrote on Blu-Ray.Com's blog (if you wish to read). Perhaps you could give me some advice?—(I wouldn't mind maybe writing reviews for my school paper sometime).

Regardless of whether you respond to me or not, thank you so much for all that you do. I know that it has influenced me (and a whole theater of others) in a positive way.

Roger Ebert Interview Questions:

1) What made you first want to be a film critic?

2) Who are the individuals in your life that inspire you?

3) It has become increasingly difficult to "sell" ideas in the film industry. What sorts of stories would you like to see film makers do more of and what kind of advice do you give to aspiring storytellers?

4) What skills/education is most important to have for this job?

5) What makes a good critic vs. a bad one?

Thanks again. Look forward to any kind of response (either in my e-mail or here)

A DREAM COME TRUE.
Movie Review of “Inception” By: Steve Catanio

How do you define cinematic perfection? Lawrence of Arabia took us on an epic emotional journey. Movies like Jaws let loose our deepest fears. Star Wars freed up our imagination into a galaxy far, far away. Add to that list: a big white van freefalling into a river of uncertainty.

Christopher Nolan is the film maker of our generation. For nearly 20 years he has captivated audiences with complex ideas, emotionally wrenching pathos and even more audacious spectacle. Memento unleashed a fury of cinematic genius. The Dark Knight, an eloquent sonnet of ideas. Now with Inception, Nolan immortalizes his greatness with an operatic opus. Few film makers have dared to dream as big as Chris Nolan. Even fewer have gotten away with such inspired pursuits by the age of 40.

Explaining the movie to the uninitiated is rather pointless. Inception is all those loosely floating adjectives and more; words likely to render its viewers obsolete (or very numb). If you managed to explain it to someone you’d still leave room for improvement. The key is to let its power wash over you. It remains in the words of a prominent critic: immune to spoilers. Part action movie, sci-fi drama, global espionage thriller and psychological character study; Inception feels like the culmination of the last 20 years of cinema. All its strengths manifested into one slick package.

Dom Cobb (Leonardo DiCaprio) is the world’s most skilled “extractor", a person who enters someone’s mind to steal their ideas. Mainly contract work for rival organizations who want the skinny on their competition (think corporate espionage on the high-tech). The latest comes from CEO Saito (Ken Watanabe) who wants Cobb to perform one final task. Inception (the birth or beginning of an event) is something never before attempted: the implanting an idea, in this case into young rival CEO Robert Fisher (Cillian Murphy). A powerful man like Saito believes that Cobb can pull it off. But things won’t be easy. Cobb is tormented by the premature death of his wife Mal (Marion Cottiard), who keeps appearing throughout his subconscious as shades of a happier past life.

Such things eat away at the man from the inside, escalating suspicion of his involvement with her alleged murder. In exchange for Cobb’s services, Saito will award him the freedom to return home to his family free of any negative repercussions.

To do that, Cobb must assemble a dream team (no pun intended) of gifted extractors. After a rendezvous with his father-in-law at a local college, Prof. Stephen Miles (the always reliable Michael Caine), Cobb is introduced to Ariadne (Ellen Page); an aspiring architect who is highly skilled at creating mazes. Though weary at first, the young student is intrigued at the idea of creating whole cities using her imagination. Using advanced machines, Cobb will utilize her gifts to mold the dream space; the playing field where extraction can take place. Like a maze of the subconscious, it’s a huge city that can alter shape and size. Sometimes “folding over itself” as if a mirror image (a thrilling sequence that doubles as a moment explaining to the audience how everything works).

Nolan’s dream project (again, no pun intended) came about through almost two decades of planning and it really shows. On one level, it plays like an advanced “Ocean’s Eleven” but at its heart’s core lie the makings of an emotional domestic drama. For if one took the action spectacle of “The Matrix”, combined with the perplexing dilemma of “Shutter Island” (also starring Leonardo DiCaprio), mixed with the ironic pathos of “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind”, the elucidating drama of “Synecdoche New York” and the thrilling mental juggling act of “Memento”; one might begin to appreciate Inception’s level of dynamism and scope. This is a $200 Million Budget art film with the sensibilities of a traditional crowd-pleasing blockbuster.

During initial viewing this can all be very complex but the movie is never confusing in my opinion. I was entranced by the film’s pull and found its narrative choices very engaging. Nolan, along with his brilliant team of technical wizards do a fine job of balancing each element so as not to leave viewers too disoriented (but I suppose that’s part of the fun). Each thrilling sequence is more elaborate than the last, bringing Cobb and his team closer to retribution.

The rest of Nolan’s talented (and geographically diverse) cast consists of stars in their own right at the peak of their cinematic prowess. Among them Bronson’s Tom Hardy who’s understated yet powerful work is simply magnificent. Nolan regulars like Cillian Murphy and Sir Michael Caine. Acting veterans like Ken Watanabe, Dileep Rao (Avatar), Tom Berenger and Pete Postlethwaite in fine supporting roles. But it’s really Marion Cottiard who shines as Cobb’s tormented wife. The Oscar®-winner does overtime playing many different facets to her personality; each one sad, exciting, scary and yes, sexy. Also, Ellen Page’s ephemeral beauty has never looked better with the help of Wally Pfister’s stunning cinematography (which often resembles a beautiful painting come to life). Front and center is DiCaprio who turns in one of the finest performances of his career.

Powerful images ignite the screen during the climatic showdown; as three converging events blend the narrative towards a thrilling conclusion. In Nolan's world, the dreams can be altered as imprints of the subject’s subconscious pose a danger (often manifesting themselves as physical threats). Things get interesting when our heroes get trapped inside the different layers of the dream world. Together they must devise a plan to emerge before the imprints of Fisher’s mind come crashing down. Forcing them into limbo, a dark place where you can’t initiate a “kick” to get out of the dream and back to reality (I haven’t even mentioned that ridiculously catchy tune yet).

In one instant classic sequence, Cobb’s long time point-man Arthur (Joseph Gordon-Levitt in a star making role) engages in a vertigo-induced fight down a hotel corridor where gravity is clearly not an issue. The last 45 minutes of the movie in particular were so engaging that it nearly left me in tears. The catharsis are Shakespearean in their level of clarity and leaves one feeling as emotionally wound up as Cobb's totem (a small top-like device dreamers use as a reminder to keep their level of reality in check). In the end, it remains the film’s most recurring and iconic image.

Inception is a movie that sticks with you. The film’s final moments are magnificent. As moving as anything I've ever seen and takes its rightful place with the greatest movie endings of all time. Right up there with Citizen Kane, It’s a Wonderful Life, Casablanca and (yes) The Wizard of Oz. Nolan's film is above all things a dream come true. I could go into limbo citing its many worthy praises. One requires their brain work faster in order to compensate. It remains an enigma beautiful and illimitable; right from the very first frame.

Combine that with miraculous feats of editing, production design, groundbreaking visual effects, stunning pyrotechnics and emotionally wrenching music by Academy Award®-winning composer Hans Zimmer and what you have is a huge dose of cinematic heaven. You simply must take a leap of faith and discover it for yourself. I think you’ll find the journey to be well worth it. I look forward to the decades of praise in store for this modern classic. Just give me a huge kick when it’s all over.

Dear Mr. Ebert;

My name is Steve Catanio and I'm a student at Sacramento State University. I am writing a 1-2 page paper in which I must interview someone I admire. If it's not too much trouble could you send me a response to five questions (listed below) for my paper? (They don’t have to be too long). I know it's rather tedious and that you’re incredibly busy but it would be a great help to me and I would be sincerely grateful.

I have been an avid watcher of your show for years until they took it off the air. I am also a fan of your many writings. You have a genuine insight that I've always admired and I thank you for your continual commitment to the arts (In the past I’ve posted on your blog under the nickname "Zeiram").

After my questions I included a sample movie review I wrote on Blu-Ray.Com's blog (if you wish to read). Perhaps you could give me some advice?—(I wouldn't mind maybe writing reviews for my school paper sometime).

Regardless of whether you respond to me or not, thank you so much for all that you do. I know that it has influenced me (and a whole theater of others) in a positive way.

Roger Ebert Interview Questions:

1) What made you first want to be a film critic?

2) Who are the individuals in your life that inspire you?

3) It has become increasingly difficult to "sell" ideas in the film industry. What sorts of stories would you like to see film makers do more of and what kind of advice do you give to aspiring storytellers?

4) What skills/education is most important to have for this job?

5) What makes a good critic vs. a bad one?

Thanks again. Look forward to any kind of response (either in my e-mail or here)

A DREAM COME TRUE.
Movie Review of “Inception” By: Steve Catanio

How do you define cinematic perfection? Lawrence of Arabia took us on an epic emotional journey. Movies like Jaws let loose our deepest fears. Star Wars freed up our imagination into a galaxy far, far away. Add to that list: a big white van freefalling into a river of uncertainty.

Christopher Nolan is the film maker of our generation. For nearly 20 years he has captivated audiences with complex ideas, emotionally wrenching pathos and even more audacious spectacle. Memento unleashed a fury of cinematic genius. The Dark Knight, an eloquent sonnet of ideas. Now with Inception, Nolan immortalizes his greatness with an operatic opus. Few film makers have dared to dream as big as Chris Nolan. Even fewer have gotten away with such inspired pursuits by the age of 40.

Explaining the movie to the uninitiated is rather pointless. Inception is all those loosely floating adjectives and more; words likely to render its viewers obsolete (or very numb). If you managed to explain it to someone you’d still leave room for improvement. The key is to let its power wash over you. It remains in the words of a prominent critic: immune to spoilers. Part action movie, sci-fi drama, global espionage thriller and psychological character study; Inception feels like the culmination of the last 20 years of cinema. All its strengths manifested into one slick package.

Dom Cobb (Leonardo DiCaprio) is the world’s most skilled “extractor", a person who enters someone’s mind to steal their ideas. Mainly contract work for rival organizations who want the skinny on their competition (think corporate espionage on the high-tech). The latest comes from CEO Saito (Ken Watanabe) who wants Cobb to perform one final task. Inception (the birth or beginning of an event) is something never before attempted: the implanting an idea, in this case into young rival CEO Robert Fisher (Cillian Murphy). A powerful man like Saito believes that Cobb can pull it off. But things won’t be easy. Cobb is tormented by the premature death of his wife Mal (Marion Cottiard), who keeps appearing throughout his subconscious as shades of a happier past life.

Such things eat away at the man from the inside, escalating suspicion of his involvement with her alleged murder. In exchange for Cobb’s services, Saito will award him the freedom to return home to his family free of any negative repercussions.

To do that, Cobb must assemble a dream team (no pun intended) of gifted extractors. After a rendezvous with his father-in-law at a local college, Prof. Stephen Miles (the always reliable Michael Caine), Cobb is introduced to Ariadne (Ellen Page); an aspiring architect who is highly skilled at creating mazes. Though weary at first, the young student is intrigued at the idea of creating whole cities using her imagination. Using advanced machines, Cobb will utilize her gifts to mold the dream space; the playing field where extraction can take place. Like a maze of the subconscious, it’s a huge city that can alter shape and size. Sometimes “folding over itself” as if a mirror image (a thrilling sequence that doubles as a moment explaining to the audience how everything works).

Nolan’s dream project (again, no pun intended) came about through almost two decades of planning and it really shows. On one level, it plays like an advanced “Ocean’s Eleven” but at its heart’s core lie the makings of an emotional domestic drama. For if one took the action spectacle of “The Matrix”, combined with the perplexing dilemma of “Shutter Island” (also starring Leonardo DiCaprio), mixed with the ironic pathos of “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind”, the elucidating drama of “Synecdoche New York” and the thrilling mental juggling act of “Memento”; one might begin to appreciate Inception’s level of dynamism and scope. This is a $200 Million Budget art film with the sensibilities of a traditional crowd-pleasing blockbuster.

During initial viewing this can all be very complex but the movie is never confusing in my opinion. I was entranced by the film’s pull and found its narrative choices very engaging. Nolan, along with his brilliant team of technical wizards do a fine job of balancing each element so as not to leave viewers too disoriented (but I suppose that’s part of the fun). Each thrilling sequence is more elaborate than the last, bringing Cobb and his team closer to retribution.

The rest of Nolan’s talented (and geographically diverse) cast consists of stars in their own right at the peak of their cinematic prowess. Among them Bronson’s Tom Hardy who’s understated yet powerful work is simply magnificent. Nolan regulars like Cillian Murphy and Sir Michael Caine. Acting veterans like Ken Watanabe, Dileep Rao (Avatar), Tom Berenger and Pete Postlethwaite in fine supporting roles. But it’s really Marion Cottiard who shines as Cobb’s tormented wife. The Oscar®-winner does overtime playing many different facets to her personality; each one sad, exciting, scary and yes, sexy. Also, Ellen Page’s ephemeral beauty has never looked better with the help of Wally Pfister’s stunning cinematography (which often resembles a beautiful painting come to life). Front and center is DiCaprio who turns in one of the finest performances of his career.

Powerful images ignite the screen during the climatic showdown; as three converging events blend the narrative towards a thrilling conclusion. In Nolan's world, the dreams can be altered as imprints of the subject’s subconscious pose a danger (often manifesting themselves as physical threats). Things get interesting when our heroes get trapped inside the different layers of the dream world. Together they must devise a plan to emerge before the imprints of Fisher’s mind come crashing down. Forcing them into limbo, a dark place where you can’t initiate a “kick” to get out of the dream and back to reality (I haven’t even mentioned that ridiculously catchy tune yet).

In one instant classic sequence, Cobb’s long time point-man Arthur (Joseph Gordon-Levitt in a star making role) engages in a vertigo-induced fight down a hotel corridor where gravity is clearly not an issue. The last 45 minutes of the movie in particular were so engaging that it nearly left me in tears. The catharsis are Shakespearean in their level of clarity and leaves one feeling as emotionally wound up as Cobb's totem (a small top-like device dreamers use as a reminder to keep their level of reality in check). In the end, it remains the film’s most recurring and iconic image.

Inception is a movie that sticks with you. The film’s final moments are magnificent. As moving as anything I've ever seen and takes its rightful place with the greatest movie endings of all time. Right up there with Citizen Kane, It’s a Wonderful Life, Casablanca and (yes) The Wizard of Oz. Nolan's film is above all things a dream come true. I could go into limbo citing its many worthy praises. One requires their brain work faster in order to compensate. It remains an enigma beautiful and illimitable; right from the very first frame.

Combine that with miraculous feats of editing, production design, groundbreaking visual effects, stunning pyrotechnics and emotionally wrenching music by Academy Award®-winning composer Hans Zimmer and what you have is a huge dose of cinematic heaven. You simply must take a leap of faith and discover it for yourself. I think you’ll find the journey to be well worth it. I look forward to the decades of praise in store for this modern classic. Just give me a huge kick when it’s all over.

Ebert: Sorry, but I'm at the TED conference in Long Beach and just don't have the time.

Thanks for answering... Sorry about the multiple entries. I think there was a problem with the website and page refresh. My paper isn't due till April 11th 2011, so if you change your mind that would be great... Otherwise don't even worry about it. I am honored that you would even reply back to me. Still, if you do reply any further info please use my e-mail.

Thanks again;

-Sincerely

Steve C.

Roger, excuse this for being off-topic, but did you really think the Oscars were that bad last night?

Roger said he was busy, so let me answer that one: YES. It was.
The prevailing post-mortem theory I'm going with to clear up the mystery revolves around that weird in-jokey Hugh Jackman number we were either all supposed to get or all weren't*: I'm hypothesizing that Jackman & Hathaway may been asked back to repeat their not-too-bad '09 job of hosting, Jackman (as noted) had contractual obligations, so Another Generic Handsome Male Host was brought in, and the "It's the Young Hip Oscars!" alibi quickly concocted...Which even the hosts had difficulty conveying to their audience with sincerity.
It's the Whoopi Goldberg "I'm not doing too good, am I?" Rule: When the hosts joke about how badly they're dying on stage, experiment failed. Bet money that there will be a new host next year, faster than you can say "Chris Rock".

(* - Remember, much of the Oscar ceremony's traditional bad moments can be attributed to one man: Bruce "Get Bruce!" Vilanch, ex-70's variety show writer, most infamously remembered for writing the Star Wars Holiday Special, as well as for playing Edna Turnblad in the LA production of "Hairspray".
And like most gay celeb-centric comedy writers, his taste for Oscar-gag humor tends to revolve around the triumvirate of 1) arcanely nudge-nudge celebrity in-joke refs for those in the live seats, 2) schoolyard overexposed-movie gags, and 3) entering onstage in goofy costumes.
The Twilight autotune gag?...Likely Bruce. The lesbian-TS3 joke?...Possibly Bruce. Franco in a goofy Marilyn dress?...DEFINITELY Bruce.
There are many theories about "how to make the Oscar show more entertaining", but the more informed ones involve "Waiting for Mr. Vilanch to die". Oh, and did I mention there's a reason why Whoopi got to host twice?) ;)

I am always telling people the same thing about music. It doesn't matter that it isn't perfect, it's your music. Just have fun! Sing loud, and sing with others. If you can play an instrument, make your friends sing along.

I also started roasting my own coffee beans at home. They're not professional quality, but I do it because it's fun! The stuff I get from my local small supplier is much better, but I didn't roast it in a pot on a charcoal stove on my balcony.

I don't practice drawing, but as an ESL teacher to young children, I love drawing cute little illustrations to communicate the meaning of a word. The kids love my childish drawings, and so does my wife. They're just fun, and they get enjoyed, and that's enough.

I never saw the point of photorealism. I have a camera for that. On occasion I'll see a nearly photoreal piece of art that prominently retains brush or pencil strokes and its brilliant. It has a tinge of the artist's emotion in it. I prefer what you are talking about to a perfect representation of life in 2D. "Talent" is a set of tools that allows a person to create great art, but most talented artists are not great.

Why is it so much easier to approve of the work of others than of our own?

In high school, I made a short film for a videography class. I disliked it; the story was sort of lifted from "The Exterminating Angel" (although in reverse), one of my actors was a little stiff in his line reading, I thought I should've had an open door here, etc.

Nobody noticed these things. Most of these quibbles only exist in my head until I tell other people about them. (Sure, film nerds might notice the story, but how many high schoolers would recognize a Bunuel film?) Until then, the only thing that matters is what they noticed, and nobody's going what an open door would have meant when it's only in the background, barely interacted with.

Seeking perfection is futile. Nothing is perfect; even "Citizen Kane" has mistakes, like a transparent eye on a bird. There's simply a point where something is done, and that's it. Unless you pull a George Lucas and go back and fix your mistakes.

The example of George Lucas is a good reason why you shouldn't seek perfection. How many alterations has he made to "Star Wars?" How many does he continue to make? "A New Hope" was done in 1977, but now that he's started "fixing" it, when will it really be done? The most probable answer is when George Lucas passes away and can alter his films no more. And it still probably won't be his "perfect" vision. Sometimes it's best for an artist to simply polish the work as much as he or she can, then abandon it.

I've drawn all my life and have shelves and shelves of sketchbooks that I've kept since I was a teenager. To what purpose? It's rare that I'll pull one off the shelves to leaf through, and I don't think I've ever referred back to old drawings to inform new work. For me there is an intrinsic value to simply observing, recording and articulating thoughts on the page. But, interestingly, I can apply what you say about drawing, to writing. A person struggling to get a drawing of a dog to look like a damned dog might equate to how I feel when I'm trying to form a sentence to say precisely what I mean for it to say. And so I think your discussion expands to include any creative endeavor. Resisting that self conscious urge to edit before your thoughts have room to breathe on the page. And yet even typing this, my cursor darts back and forth through the paragraph as I compulsively re-write and replace words. Writing for me is less like the gestural flow of a solid line drawing and more like the violent forging of crude metal.

I've enjoyed this blog entry and was compelled to share my thoughts. I would very much love to see more of your drawings.

(reposted)
About what I said earlier about how everyone can be a genius, it's about using your whole mind, your conscious and your unconscious mind: yin and yang.

Your unconscious mind is processes thousands of times faster than your conscious mind; by itself it is doing things for us all the time: meaning effortlessly: such as when you open a dictionary on the exact page you were looking for, or maybe you seemingly clumsily do something and it turned into something perfect, like you accidentally toss your pen up and then when you catch it the pen balances in the palm of your hand for a moment: it's helping you google; your eyes will go to the exact point on the page that you didn't know you were looking for. The point is these are not accidents. If your conscious mind is pure and it's looking for truth, the unconscious mind will, at thousands of times a faster speed, help it out.

So, knowing what the unconscious mind can do should help you figure out a logic, any logic, to solve something.

So, genius is effortless.

So, what happens is that as soon as your conscious mind sees a logic to solve something, just the logic, what happens at that exact instant is you'll, ironically, be thinking "Don't figure this out, don't figure this out....with this logic to figure this out." So, there's a duality and a paradox to genius, which is that the moment your conscious mind figures a way to do something out, you have to with that very same logic, tell it NOT to figure it out, and the unconscious mind will effortlessly figure it out; spontaneously the answer will appear.

Genius is another language.

About spontaneity, it is said that God is spontaneity.

But what I wanted to get to was...

Art is the illusion of spontaneity.

It's about how the darkness brings out the light: which is perhaps the nature of spontaneity; in a little quiet darkness comes a sudden yet gentle light or energy.

Perhaps it's about genius itself. It's about how the darkness that is our conscious mind, brings out the light from the unconscious mind; it's about our highest achievements, like Beethoven's 9th symphony. About everyone becoming a genius, or in other words, being kind of the agents of God or the infinite: being the universe personified (which I'm pretty sure is an oxymoron) or being a part of being itself.

Here's what Rodin says about his drawings, which I think he said that he considers those, and not his sculptures, to be his masterpieces:

“[my] drawings are freer, they will bring greater freedom to the artists who study them, not by telling them to do as others do, but by revealing to them their own genius and inciting them to find their own momentum, by showing them the vast space in which they can develop."

Also, everyone, do yourself a favor and google: Rodin drawings; or just look for his drawings: there are thousands of them.

So here's a drawing here by Rodin:

http://blogs.princeton.edu/wri152-3/f05/fmiller/images/pl81bilitis.jpg

As art is the illusion of spontaneity, or how the darkness brings out the light or perhaps how God works showing the nature of spontaneity and perhaps further how we can become agents of God or the infinite and about becoming genius' and our highest achievements (darkness is our conscious mind bringing out the effortless spontaneous light of our unconscious minds),

let's look at how the darkness brings out the light of the drawing.

But also, art isn't art, or completely or really art, if it doesn't praise art itself, which means that all of the elements should conspire to make each individual elements a matter of joy, or just kind of elevates those individual elements that they wouldn't have been otherwise. And when I mean each individual elements, I mean every possibly element or component that can be conceived as part of what constitutes art. So, with music, there's rhythm, the notes, and how the notes are composed to make certain parts sing (darkness bringing out the light etc.). So, rhythm by itself isn't really anything itself, but if you put music on top of that and suddenly rhythm itself is a matter of joy or is elevated or should be elevated (most music doesn't really put much care into elevating the concept of rhythm).

Or with art, there's orange. Orange by itself isn't so hot, but maybe you put some purple next to it, and suddenly orange is great.

So, looking at the Rodin drawing,

You see how the Orange (or darkness) when it outlines the purplish-white (light) of the hair, then you see what I mean about how all the elements should conspire to make each individual element a matter of joy, and ultimately to make the darkness bring out the light; you can see how in the background the orange, looking kind of like stars, is helping to bring out the light in the background, by being scattered about it: and the light is really shining; it's also has little dark lines that are like rays bringing out the light.

Let's look at another part of the same drawing (here it is again http://blogs.princeton.edu/wri152-3/f05/fmiller/images/pl81bilitis.jpg).

This part is really great.

Look at the two little dark areas under the women. Notice how the darkness organically, which is also kind of to say gradually, (as art is the illusion of spontaneity) brings out the light; it's really dark then you notice how suddenly there's light and it has pink around it; the darkness brought out the light.

I suddenly lost my train of thought.

But anyway, that's what art is supposed to be about, how the darkness brings out the light.

I also am an Urbana H. S. alum, '68, and was reminded of an old teacher there when they announced the death of the oldest American WWI vet a few days ago.
I recalled reading a review in which you'd mentioned Mr. Himes (I'd mistakenly remembered as Hines), and remembered that he once told about having enlisted at 14, in WWI, then lied again to serve in WWII (being too old). He resembled Karloff's Mummy, but I think that his skin condition was related to mustard gas in the Great War.
Most affecting for me, years later, was the apparently trivial detail, where in class he referred to all the boys as "Mr. __" - every one, black, white, alike. Coming from an old white teacher, in the tense years of the Civil Rights era, seems noteworthy; I wonder how students of color remember him.

Thanks for sharing your passion and the bliss of creating for oneself. Today anyone who produces a sketch, water color or oil painting seems to desperately search for acceptance as an artist or the need to be recognized and called an artist. The simple pleasure of enjoying ones own creations is an accolade enough.
thank you Roger.

"Anyone can draw" is the kind of statement that makes me want to beat my head against my desk, if only because I've heard it so many times...and it's been the cause of many awkward moments wherein someone who is totally convinced of that uses it as an excuse to browbeat me into trying, and then, after seeing the result, very conspicuously changes the subject.

I do think perfectionism does lead to a lot of frustration, and that we have to let it go. But I would say that while everyone can be an artist, I don't think everyone can draw. (Exhibit 1: myself.) I have terrible visual-spacial skills, and weak fine motor skills. I can barely read my own handwriting. The problem basically comes down to being unable to see things in a way I can transmit to the paper, however abstractly...and then being unable to copy that mental version to the paper (I'm terrible at piano, too. I can read music, and know what my fingers should be doing, but I can't seem to get that message to them). Drawing convinced me that I absolutely could not do art, realistic or abstract because I could never get anything in my head, no matter how imperfectly, on to the page. (When I was in high school and we started making flash movies, it was like a revelation. I could create crude versions of what I imagined because the computer could interpret my raggedy weird triangular shape and turn it into the circle I had been trying for.)

It was only when I accepted that sketching was never going to be a satisfactory medium for me that I stopped wanting to beat my head against the wall when I felt like being creative. Pencils and pens, with their fine lines, are a lot less forgiving than watercolors and other paints, at least on an abstract level. You may not be able to record something visually, but you can play with color and texture and impress upon the paper how you feel. Or you can be observant and write, which also impresses a place strongly upon your memory. There's also photography, which makes you look at even ordinary things differently.

In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my mind ever since.

"Whenever you feel like criticizing any one," he told me, "just remember that all the people in this world haven't had the advantages that you've had."

I typed up a rather longwinded comment the other night about my own journey of artistic improvement. Then my internet went kaput at the moment I clicked "submit," and my comment vanished into the ether.

I think the only thing worth retyping is how much I admire my boyfriend's little "doodles," and how sad it is when he disparages his artwork in comparison to my own. He draws the most joyful, silly, ridiculous muppet-ish monsters; his imagination astounds me and inspires me to loosen up within my own artwork, which all tends to feature sad girls standing around in pretty dresses.

That, plus three quotes that I think have defined the path of my artistic growth pretty well:

When I was about nine, I drew a portrait of my little sister, and showed it to my dad, who is also an artist. He looked at it and just said, "Draw what you see, not what you think you see."

John Lasseter said something along the lines of, "Everyone has 10,000 bad drawings inside of them. Get them out."

And my character design teacher said, "It's fine to look at something you've drawn the next day and hate it, but if you're not sitting there thinking 'man, this is the greatest thing ever' while you're drawing it, there's something wrong."

Remember what movie this is from?
http://i.ehow.com/images/a04/ft/f5/block-drawing-favorite-scenes-movies-800X800.jpg

Don't you think if put into motion this sketch would be much more powerful than the actual photography. Like a dream.

Roger,

I love love love this blog entry.

I say that three times: First I love the title. The title alone drew me in (err, no pun intended, unless it was funny, then pun intended), because I too have always admired and envied those who were able to draw "well." (Which I put in quotes now, in deference to things you said in your post--what, exactly, does "drawing well" mean?)

My envy goes all the way back to nursery school, five years old. We were to draw an apple tree. I do not recall excactly how mine looked, but even after some 35 years I still clearly rememver that it wasn't anywhere near as good as that of a girl in my class.

My envy started that day, and has never left, which is why your blog title piqued my interest.

The second "love" is for uncanny parallels. As I read, I was pleased to discover that some of your experiences were very similar to my own--I have bought such sketchbooks, I have sat in quiet spots in busy areas and attempted to sketch. I eventually arrived at watercolor, and even have a small field watercolor set--with Winsor & Newton paints, though the kit itself is not the same one you pictured.

The third, and foremost, reason I loved this post is that even though I might have had simiar experiences to yours, you described a piece that had been missing from mine: The idea that what you draw is by nature "right," every time.

Honestly, this thought had never occurred to me before, and came as something of a revelation. Most of the time I have been addicted to the eraser, and in light of this new (to me) idea, I think I haven't gotten as much pleasure from drawing as I might have, had I not stopped every 4.5 seconds to critique and correct, sometimes to no avail.

Over the years, my practice of drawing and sketching (and watercoloring) has come in cycles, on and off. I do believe that your post has trigged the next "on" cycle--and for the first time since I was a chile, with a new perspective. Thanks!

Will

I never wanted to be an artist. not as a child nor ever. I wanted to be a singer and writer, but fine art? I didn't see the point. Plenty enough artists out there putting their ego on display. However, I was a bit precocious with the rendering as a child and had a fondness and affinity for colour. That affinity for colour has served me well as a house painter. My people, however, assumed I was an artist and put me in a variety of art classes, told me I would be an artist, and generally framed me that way. Having an exotic personality and being practical enough to make what I visualized in my head also netted me constant accusations of "artist" from the people around me later in life. to this day, people will tell me I'm an artist then tell me how it explains me. I am not an artist. To my mind, an artist has to value art for art's sake. I do not. I like to decorate my walls as much as the next person and I certainly have an eye for quality rendering, texturing, and lively lines. I understand the language, the history, and all the other rotten nonsense they foist upon you in art school, but I do not care for creating art for expression alone. Now if I could earn a living at it, sure it would be worth pursuing, as much as anything is. But you cannot earn a living from art. You can earn a living from marketing your own art, or if you luck into a partner with marketing skills, but the art itself does not support. I know too many artists with closets full of wonderful coloured canvases, drifting from entry level job to short term contract. I recall being told that among the art community welfare was considered an artist's grant!
I don't want to examine the merit of supporting our artists. I don't have the knowledge to do so. I just want to say, sometimes drawing is pointless! I don't get meditative when I draw. Rather, the attempt to capture what I see gets bogged down in hands that jerk and fuss and wobble, circles that are drawn too big or small, lines that curve a bit or are just a bit too long, hands out of proportion, building lines that stray. To rein in these errant lines is to stultify the picture, to leave them random is to irritate me. the end result is quite the opposite of calm and it seems a terrible waste of expensive materials. Cheap materials are miserable to work with even when you have your head in the right place.
Sometimes it feels like the whole world is insisting I must engage and enjoy this pursuit of rendering, yet my results are generally sloppy or stilted and the activity leaves me stressed and distraught. I don't think all or any of us must necessarily be artists, or that it somehow is more important than digging ditches and cleaning toilets. If an activity pleases one and harms none, then by all means pursue it, and to hell with the naysayers. Art does not please me except to decorate.

Ebert: Then have a great time decorating!

Yo ebert. I didn't finish this blog (it seemed a bit dippy), but I did have another question.

Do you ever regret giving the Passion of Christ 4 stars? you spent pretty much the whole article explaining its flaws away in context of it being a religious movie, and then said if it had been anyone other than Jesus up on that cross, the censors would have made it NC-17. But did you give it 4 stars for any other reason than it's a Jesus movie? The tone of your article is different from any other 4 star review that I've read.

I find this entry quite interesting, coming from a film critic. That is, an art critic.

And one that uses a four-point "star" rating system, at that.

I wonder, Mr. Ebert, if your reflections might be so liberal and, perhaps, flippant, if one were to make a similar assertion about your field of expertise?

Damn it, Roger; "Deuce Bigalow: European Gigolo" may be flawed -but the crack team of Rob Schneider and director Mike Mitchell made it their own. No one else could have created such a piece. Maybe that's all that counts.

Forgive my sarcasm. I don't mean to be disrespectful. But it seems to me that either all art is equally valid insofar as it is all a unique perspective by which one may view the human experience, or there is some validity to this "criticism" thing.

Or is it just that painting/sketching, as an art form, is less deserving of scrutiny?

I agree with you on many points you make on many subjects, but what you have to offer here about perfectionism is all meat and no fat. Perfectionism and over-attention to detail can ruin a pure work in a short time, and it is difficult to overcome the habit of checking every nook and cranny of your performance, whether it be drawing, painting, writing, creating music, etc.

In the studio, when I was a gopher, they would often make us go do something else for awhile, something entirely different, using an altogether separate part of our brain to process the environment. Later, when we came back to the music, it sounded different with fresh, rested ears. If we'd have tinkered all night with the song, it wouldn't even be the same song by morning.

But then again, you could say that is a plus I guess, because then you'd have two works for the price of one no?

I. M. Strange

This was very insightful, thankyou Mr.Ebert.It actually makes me think of my own interest in writing, and how I always want to write, but often worry about what is produced (At 15, it isn't very good)
But I suppose when I get into that 'flow' of writing, I can't really stop myself, like taking some sort of drug, I need that feeling of enervation again, it was too awesome to ignore.

Ebert: Just write. You'll amaze yourself.

This was very insightful, thankyou Mr.Ebert.It actually makes me think of my own interest in writing, and how I always want to write, but often worry about what is produced (At 15, it isn't very good)
But I suppose when I get into that 'flow' of writing, I can't really stop myself, like taking some sort of drug, I need that feeling of enervation again, it was too awesome to ignore.

Roger,

My father was an artist, born in Hungary, trained in the school of Rembrandt, and worked as a commercial artist in the US in New York and later Chicago.

As a child, I always tried comparing my skill to his, and as a five year old, "knew" I'd never be as good an artist as my father, and pretty much gave up. At the time, my 10 year old brother's ability to draw was much closer to my Dad's, so I gave up.

At age five.

I went on to learn to write, and write fairly well (got a perfect score on my GMAT written section - it's a sad dog who won't wag his own tail), but I never tried to hone my drawing skills.

Recently, the old man came to visit his granddaughter (something about my parents coming to visit her and not me seems like a perfect circle of life thing), and I asked him to draw something for her.

He asked why I didn't draw; why hadn't I even tried to draw; that I had the skills to draw anything, including the artwork on my walls (oil on canvas reproductions he'd done 30 and 40 years earlier still decorate my walls).

I had no good answer.

I have earned graduate degrees; have been educated in fields from religion to the computer sciences; but am still that 5 year old who rather than try to follow in his dad's footsteps, simply resigned himself.

So last night I went and bought a drawing tab, and some charcoal sticks. . . let the adventure begin.

"We already know what a dog really looks like."

My six year old has already begun criticising her own work. I plan on using a variation of this line the next time she gets upset that her picture isn't an exact representation of what she's drawing.

You may already be aware of this blog, but if not, this young woman has a true talent for bringing very simple cartoon drawings to life. (She's also funny as hell).

http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/

This article reminded me of how perfectionism stifles progress. Instead of worrying about getting it right, there is much to be gained by trying. Without appreciating every step of the way, it would be impossibly disheartening to learn any skill. Because behind every success is a large iteration of failures.

However, I disagree that "given the uniquely human eye-mind link, we interpret art in terms of the real world. And that is where we make our mistake." On the contrary, art is extremely subjective to time, era, mood, rapport, preconceptions, etc. To think that Picasso could be the premiere example of artistic genius in a world that interprets art in terms of reality is absurd.

Instead what scares artists and doodlers into erasing and redrawing is that what they are recording on to paper will be interpreted differently than what they are trying to express. The child who draws a dog is not disheartened when somebody says his dog is not very realistic, instead he cries when no one sees that it is a dog at all. Our perfectionism comes from our steadfast quest to express our subject in a manner true to ourselves that at the same time others (or even our future selves) can understand. Like all arts however, the artist at some point has to let the art be open to the interpretations each member of his audience is entitled to.

One night about a month ago, just before going to bed, I posted a 30 second silent video to my Facebook page showing the progress of an illustration as I painted it.

During the night, without my knowledge, my son Marc wrote and recorded music for it and then extended and re-edited the video.

This is what I found in my inbox the next morning.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D4fgEWCpdBQ

Ebert: Magical. I posted it on my facebook.

Thank you. What you say is very true. Everyone can draw. And also, everyone can sing. Humans often really enjoy doing both, they are among life's pleasures, and we should allow ourselves to.

A very enlightening post. I was encouraged at once to take up my pen and draw, come what may.

A few years back I saw an exhibition in the Museum of Contemporary Art here in Santiago, Chile by the Chinese artist Chen Shaofeng in which he painted a series of 250 portraits called “Dialogue with the Peasants of Tiangongsi Village.” He carried with him a special portable double-easel and invited his subjects to participate in the portrait by asking them to make a drawing of him as he was working on them. A sort of “I’ll paint you if you paint me.” The result was truly amazing. You got to see not only their external appearance, but from what the subjects drew of the painter, something of their inside.

See it here: http://www.ritnit.com/2007/09/18/chen-shaofeng-provincia-de-shanxi-china-1961/

After studying the portraits for a while, what really stood out to me were not the faces of the villagers. They served to identify who was painting the artist. And looking at the portraits of the artist, I stopped seeing the artist, and saw a representation of the subject rendered by his or her own hand.

What we paint is not so much what we see, but who we are.

Perhaps we are inhibited in our own self-expression because we’ve seen too many crime movies and have unfortunately taken to heart that anything we say can be used against us in a court of law.

Wonderful timing. I needed cheering up and the video had me engaged in a big hearted belly laugh right along with that wonderful gentleman. This year I felt the desire to pick up a paint brush for the first time in years, and your article reminded me of an exchange about 50 years ago with a summer bible school teacher. The class was given watercolors and sketch paper and instructed to paint anything we wanted. I began to draw a clown but quickly changed my mind. Though I can't for the life of me recall what I did draw; I do recall the teacher critiquing my work. She kept asking about the solid red circle in the middle of the page. Finally, I explained it was the nose of a clown. When she persisted in asking why it was in the middle of the painting, I replied I was told to paint "anything I wanted". While my current artwork, usually, doesn't feature a solid red circle smack dab in the middle of the canvas, I continue to paint what I like and don't feel the need to defend it.

Thank you Roger for this article. I am also enjoying the comments I have been reading. I am an art therapist and one of the most difficult parts of my job is convincing people that they can do art. It is actually part of our bitthright. People seem to think you come out of the womb being able to draw or paint. We are actually designed to be able to do art and the evidence is in how children "learn" to draw. Left to their own devices children will naturally go through stages: scribble, controlled scribble, circle, other shapes and then putting the shapes together to create images. This is universal. The rest is just practice. We all get in our own way and that includes myself. Thanks again.
Denise, ATR-BC

look how many people you have inspired with this ! include me too. i so agree about perfectionism. doodling has helped keep me sane for many years now. my younger brother was a straight "a" student at urbana high school and was helping a math teacher throwing out old tests. he came upon one of mine and says that it started out with correct answers, but by the 3rd page, i had become bored and left off with the numbers. instead, i drew a cutaway diagram of a 5 speed transmission, with all the number of teeth on the gears identified and the gear ratios worked out.i really could have used a 5th gear in the capriolo motorcycle and it seemed like a practical application of math. i suppose i was looking for extra credit and never got back to the questions.i got an "F". of course.
i've forgotten all the words, and probably mangled the meaning, but our valedictorian's speech , while probably intended to inspire kids to think they could achieve anything, like graduating from college, even though not expected to go because of poverty or race, gave the freedom to think i might not have to go to college. i decided to keep up with the menial labor like i was doing as a dishwasher at the turk's head ale house until i found out what i wanted to study. things worked out well.
thanks again for inspiring many of us.

really
then i am gonna to draw
but i really drew very bad...awful...

Thank you very much for this. I took an art class in middle school, but was frustrated at my apparent lack of artistic talent, because nothing I drew seemed real. I picked up photography in highschool, because there at least I could always make something that looked real, but if I felt like it, I could bend reality.

I now have the urge to pick up drawing again, keeping your advice to just finish every work I start, and not give up in the back of my head. And who knows, maybe it'll end up being a great way to pick up girls at coffee shops.

Roger, once again, a post that resonates. Ah, why do we do this to ourselves? It's like putting life's joy into a box at the back of the closet -- and it's taken me more than 40 years to figure that out. I have a hearing loss and was told at age 7 that I couldn't sing. For decades, I avoided singing as much as possible (except in the car). After 30-odd years, I mentioned this to the music teacher who had made that remark back in the day only to have her tell me that I could learn to sing, nearly anyone can learn to sing. Maybe not arias but a passable Beatles tune. And that really, my voice isn't that bad. You could have knocked me over with a feather.

My second lesson was becoming close friends with wonderful woman who always sings off-key but simply shrugs it off. She sings when she cooks, when she works, when she drives, when hosting dinner parties. Loudly, in public, with gusto. And she looks positively joyful every time, which is absolutely contagious and always makes people smile -- and makes them join in.

Who cares if you can't draw a representative picture or sing on-key. If it makes you happy, do it. You only go around once in this life, you know. Grab the joy while you can.

Hi Roger-
Thanks for another interesting post.

I'd like to share a quote that's been very helpful to me. Whenever I'm reluctant to do something because I'm afraid I won't do it well enough, I think of this:

The woods would be very silent
If no birds sang there
Except those that sing the best
-Henry David Thoreau

I first read this in an article about my former high school band leader, Larry Gnagey- a wonderful teacher. He explained that he wanted his students to play to the best of their abilities, but he wasn't big on competitions. "I thought those children who really needed most the experience of loving the arts were the ones who got hurt by competitions." This was one his favorite quotes, and when he became principal of a grade school in town, two art teachers painted a mural in his office with this on it.

Thank you for this post.

I was talking with my 14 year old daughter the other day on this very subject.

She feels her drawings are "not good enough"... my response (and perhaps not the right one) was "compared to what? these drawings are for you... to document a mood or thought or moment... perfection does not count here... art is expression and subjective"

It is unfortunate that as children we probably took the eraser to so many other things enjoyed with naive wonder.

Take it off…the art of conversation

My internal thought dialogue is like listening to an iPod with earphones, nice and private and I listen to anything I want. But entering into a conversation with others is like plugging the feed into a loudspeaker. Then I have to filter out some of the conversation, because if I didn’t, I could easily offend someone.

Many commentators on blogs, forums, and letters to the editor, these days, are like children just learning to scribble, and are letting it all hang out. They haven’t yet acquired the art. As a result, although their blots and scribbles are authentic representations of their perceptions, they might not be appropriate to share in mixed company.

Like the joke that’s told about a hefty middle-aged stripper in a burlesque theater, one night after hearing all the cat-calls of “Take it off, take it all off”, she pulled off her G-string, and someone in the crowd shouted back “Put it back on.”

There’s the art.

yessss Roger it's called using your Right Brain. You're a writer, you use your left brain a lot. Using the right side of your brain (spatial, feelings, subconcious, doesn't recognize time all that well) is probably a big help for you. Same for me, I'm an English major. I actually can draw something really really well, almost exactly but it takes a while. Lot's of erasing (which I don't see as a bad thing!). The people I think are really gifted and that I'm jealous of right now--until I learn how to do it myself--are the ones that can draw something amazingly realistic and real with a few lines. My friend is an art major and one of her focuses was to try to draw something in like 30 seconds in one continuous scribbly line. So draw a person or a lion in 30 seconds, and you must capture the "essence" or defining physical characteristics. I took a lot at her drawings (at least the ones she saw fit to show) and really, she captured so much in those scribbles. A lion, a woman, a chair or whatever. And that's so right brain. The ability to recognize abstract shapes of things and make connections to make sense of things that are completely crazy looking. In that sense it's kind of like one person's sensory perceptions speaking to another's because the artist is putting down the bare bones, most simplistic version of what they see, and the fact that the viewer can see it too is a testament to art and the way our brain's work.

I love that you felt it too, how when you draw you really can see the subject better than in any other way. It's an amazing feeling.

I am enjoying the conversation you generated. I have done art with the homeless, Peruvian special needs children, Hurricane Katrina evacuee children and teens in alternative schools among others. Universally, art makes the heart sing, and the troubles of the world evaporate. When we do art, it is not so much what we make, but the places we go when we do.

I doodle from time to time. I'm better at other things though. Your drawing is alive. They only need a little magic and they would be wonderful animated scenes.

I had an Uncle Theodore from the St Thomas who was a great artist. Funny thing was he drew upside down: perfect images of faces, animals and buildings that were all drawn upside dow. Then he'd flip the paper around and "Voila!"

Funny that.

I’m actually a trained artist and draw quite well as such things are usually measured. If a wizard transformed my drawings into reality, my buildings would not collapse so quickly nor my people be so misshapen that the people would not be able to flee the buildings in time to avoid being trapped in the wreckage. If any of my animals proved incapable of long-term survival they could at least be put out of their misery by a veterinarian; my crime against nature are not be of such enormity that they would need to be shot on the spot.

All of which is just by way of saying that I sort of know what I’m talking about when I say: your drawing … not bad! It reminds me of Thurber and Ed Subitzky and another cartoonist who used to draw for the National Lampoon whose name slips my mind.

In response to: And let's face it. Much of drawing IS an inborn skill...studies of congenitally blind children have shown that those whose parents have better ability to draw with perspective...not worry at all about those things one can't.

I think this gets it exactly wrong. Yes, there's such a thing as inborn artistic talent. If you have it you probably don't need to push yourself to discover the rewards of drawing. Ebert's quite right about what drawing does for those of us who may not have that talent. I'm a math/music/languages left-brain-on-steroids type. I have derived great joy from learning to draw, precisely because it's difficult for me. I have stretched my mind and vision and learned something about myself and the world I inhabit.

Music is an excellent comparison. It's obvious there's talent. But it's equally obvious that anyone can grow up to make music. Visit Pacific islands and see that every child joins ably in singing elaborate Methodist choral compositions. It's because of culture, not DNA. The single worst thing about our world IMHO is that we don't regard these beauty-creating pursuits as universal and basic human faculties. You can't tell me the person who grows up able to play a Beethoven sonata, or sing harmony in a hymn, or sketch a landscape -- however mediocrely! -- is not a rich person, and the rest of us impoverished in comparison.

"Anyone can ... (fill in the blank)." The best explanation of this I ever heard was one comparing the classical arts to cooking -- perhaps because I'm such a poor cook myself.

Some people have the gift and the training and the senses to create a five-star meal of surpassing excellence.

Some have such a level of personal incompetence that they can burn soup.

Most of us, with some time and effort, can learn how to cook a decent meal that feeds a family. Many even come to do it well -- not Chez Haute Cuisine well, but well.

There's a long gap between the hopeless and the genius, and most of us can find a comfortable niche somewhere in that gap. There will always be a few for whom this truly isn't their medium (the tone-deaf person struggling with music, for example), but for all the rest of us, the willingness to try can open some wonderful vistas.

Thank you Roger, I think you just convinced me that maybe someday I'll be able to write. I can paint a beautiful dog with pastel or watercolor but I not with words. Guess i just need practice. You paint a beautiful canvas with your words.

I have the same Cotman field box, purchased ten years ago–but it was only a week ago that I finally unwrapped all the little pans of paint inside, so that I could actually use it. Any day now . . . hopefully.

Roger,

Around 1964 I lived at the Unitarian Church in Urbana. You would lead a film discussion group on Friday nights. Since then I've followed your illustrious career. Wow! Your contributions have been enormous. I loved your article about drawing, since I've made a career out of drawing with absolutely no talent. Thanks for that blog post and for all the other good things you have done.

Kim

I love to write, and on good days I think I may be good at it. One of my favorite authors is Guy Gavriel Kay, and after posting a stretch of writing to my writers group and bemoaning how I'd never be able to write like Kay, one of the other writers said: But Guy Gavriel Kay doesn't write like you do. It's stayed with me a great many years. Truth is - I do have my own style. I am good at the things I am good at - and which Guy Gavriel Kay isn't. But I can't draw. ;)

I feel almost exactly the same when I try to draw as when I try to dance.

I know exactly what it ought to feel like -- that is, what I know it can feel like and what I want it to feel like -- but it doesn't happen for me. I'm enough of an athlete (or used to be) to know the pleasure of a body in graceful motion. I feel quite the opposite on the dance floor. I'm sure a disciplined practice regimen would help, so I am vulnerable to a charge of laziness, but it has nothing to do with perfectionism or self-consciousness (the usual reproach of would-be dance partners).

When I look at something with an observant eye, I usually have an immediate intuitive sense of the feeling or detail that I would like to capture. I just can't draw it. It's not important if the result doesn't look like what other people see, but it IS important if it doesn't look like what I see. Is that perfectionism? Maybe. But for my part I don't see any artistic or existential point in creating something that is alien to my own perceptions and feelings.

I should be thankful for small favors. Unlike dancing, drawing is not regarded as a social obligation in our culture.

I just read this post and it's very timely for me, since I was just writing in my journal about ways to deal with perfectionism and being 'good enough.' Thanks for your insights, Roger.

A man called Lyndon Duke studied the suicide notes of teenagers and found that almost all of them suffered from "the curse of exceptionality," as he called it. They thought they just weren't good enough (they probably used their erasers or delete keys a lot).

Immediately my mind draws a parallel to what you said about using an eraser when sketching to when using the delete key when writing. Each time the eraser or delete key is used, it's pretty much like saying, 'Not good enough' about the composition being created. Doing too much of that can result in the composer feeling pretty down. I've certainly found that heavily editing a piece of work, such as writing, can result in my mood dropping.

Some remedies I have found to this dilemma have included accepting my work as good enough, and I have definitely found that a great way to raise self-esteem is make the shift from comparing yourself to others to comparing yourself to yourself and observing your own improvement over time.

Perhaps spontaneous improvisers, such as jazz musicians have the advantage of not having to edit while they compose. As Miles Davis said, 'mistakes are part of the music.'

But well-crafted art that has been edited, such as pithy, well-structured writing and meticulously-crafted music can also be beautiful and a real treat to experience. I love Michelangelo's quote, 'I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free.'

There is value in all types of composition no matter how long they take to create, and as you said "nobody else can draw like you do." In art forms such as music and painting, it is the element of human touch that's perhaps most integral in showing the artists unique voice.

We are all unique, and we are all worthy of love. Enjoying our own uniqueness and that of others can contributes to making this journey worthwhile. I love my uniqueness and I love yours, Roger - thanks for your inspiration, and for the positive difference you make in other's lives. :)

P.S. One of the most helpful ways of dealing with perfectionism that I've discovered is from the work of coach Michael Neill, which can be summed up by the tagline, 'have an average day.' http://haveanaverageday.org/

I have been reading your blog for quite some time and this will be the first post I have ever made. This article legitimately touched me. In fact I can remember the exact moment that my interest in visual art was crushed. In 4th grade I was chosen for a local art show because of a predisposition towards abstraction and cubism. In 5th grade I changed schools (and art teachers). My new art teacher was a Negative Nancy. After one year in her class, I gave up on visual art and never returned.

Until now...15 years later...I feel like drawing. So thank you. :)

Ebert: So Keenan, maybe before long you'll post with a link to your new painting?

Mister Ebert, may I congratulate you on your wonderful blog, full of insights and passion towards films, art, and life.

This article of yours has moved me and inspired me, at the same time that it is a statement of many things I believe in and fight for in my own class. I am an art teacher in high school, and consider myself very aware of the damage that has been done before in this field, and it's quite a battle to shake the system and cut the chains of the current education that centers around sheer memory and superficiality towards study, setting aside the creative soul of the students to a play or to, or a free drawing or too, or barely a conversation about dreams and individual wishes. All is taken from traditional high school books which are more than dated, that seem to have sprang from some forgotten bottomless well of Pavlovian leftover notes, and though some of these books are aptly written, they are completely lost on the currency of a world turned slightly mad over technology and reality shows and gossip and facebook and blackberry abuse...

Sometimes it's maddening enough that a whole generation seems to be "miseducating" itself on a system of values devoid of empathy, love, caring, communication, feelings and art. But what is truly frightening are the eventual teachers and parents that construct their educational belief on money, success, fame or some unknown idea that expression and art are just to pass the time, and not really something to learn from.

These people have been conditioned to "insert" children and teens into a predetermined mold of being, a mold that, like Guillermo Del Toro says in this great interview (http://zocalopublicsquare.org/fullVideo.php?event_year=2010&event_id=456&video=&page=1) "has proven historically to be wrong". And still, in this day and age, hundreds or thousands of kids are prevented from the freedom of choosing their own dreams, and pianos and brushes, and guitars, and clay, and colors and identity and personality and so on. And this happens with children that have the oportunity of a certain "quality" education. Let's not get started in the inmense amount of kids that can't go to school, or afford one, or live in a problematic and violent enviroment that prevents them of ever THINKING that they could actually develope their own ideas and views, and ways to be happy and return the favor to their community.

There is a great article by Gabriel García Marquez, in spanish though (don't know if there is a translation in english) titled "Manual Para ser Niño" (Something like: Handbook to be a children, or a kid).

Anyway, this is bound to be a long talk, and I don't want to take you that much time, but I do want to thank you and express my admiration. I have learned so much from your "Great movies" section, and would love to see in there movies like Carl Th. Dreyer's "Vampyr", or Rouben Mamoulian's "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde". And I love Cormac McCarthy's books too, and I'm about to read "Sutree", and I wonder if you've seen the Tommy Lee Jones helmed "The Sunset limited", based on McCarthy's play, or novel in dramatized form, as the ad's put it.

Off I go, Mr. Ebert. This post, again, was wonderful, and the Anette Goodheart video was magic. It made my day better, and hope to share it with other people.

Keep carrying the fire.

From Venezuela,
Víctor Manuel Solís.

Ebert: All of this is so true. So sad. Teachers like you fight the good fight.

Dear Roger: My 13-year-old son Eric is an accomplished caricaturist (as well as an amateur movie reviewer). You would not agree with his recent reviews of Thor and Pirates of the Caribbean 4. But I thought you might enjoy the caricatures he draws for "MrMovieMonkey" on Youtube, in which he recreates a character from each movie in the form of a monkey.

https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=pu.130968043605165

I am a long-time fan of your work and wish you well.

Goodness, I AM late to the party. I think, dear sir, that you underestimate the power of your sketches. To me, they capture the spirit of the moment beautifully and vividly. At risk of repeating what you and others have said more eloquently: in the final analysis, all we can do is draw our truths. It goes without saying that this differs for each person.

Finally, an update: I finished the last of the Sullivan Seven earlier this year. I've also added a few new designs from the last 12 months.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/52195065@N05/

Roger,

I just wanted to let you know that Annette Goodheart (my mother), passed away a few months ago in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, her home for the past 6 years. We are hosting a memorial for her in Santa Barbara on her birthday, January 1st, 2012.

She had spoken about how much she valued her friendship with you, and I thought you would want to know.

Regards,

David

I just turned 60, I have a degree in painting, and recently a tribute to my mentor in art school, Bob DeWeese (did you ever read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance?), was published in our local paper. I re-posted about Bob and the article on my wordpress blog. There are so many sweet gems of wisdom I remember from Bob. One was that when we are children, we are perfectly uninhibited artists, and then we spend the rest of our adult artist lives trying to get back to what we could do as children. He nurtured in his students the ability to see what is in your life in the moment and use that experience in art. Thanks for posting this about your friend. Loved reading it. aliceflynn.wordpress.com