Drawing in charcoal and crayon for the use of students and schools

In Short

This book functions as a technical manual for students of fine art, providing specific instruction on the materials, preparation, and methodologies required for charcoal and crayon drawing. It guides the reader from basic line exercises through the complexities of portraiture and landscape. By prioritizing the rigorous control of light, shadow, and proportion over superficial finish, the text encourages a disciplined, structural approach to art. It remains a valuable resource for its clear explanation of traditional studio practices and its insistence that artistic success is built upon systematic, patient practice.

The Story

The journey begins by establishing the necessity of charcoal as a medium for both beginners and professionals. Because it is easily erased and capable of producing wide-ranging tonal effects, charcoal is presented as the ideal tool for learning to see. The text immediately moves to the technical requirements of the studio, detailing the construction of frames, the stretching of paper, and the selection of implements like stumps, bread, and Conté crayons. The student is encouraged to view these materials not merely as tools, but as an extension of the artistic will.

Once the physical environment is prepared, the focus shifts to the architecture of drawing. The reader is warned against the common error of rushing toward detail. Instead, the process is defined by an arc of increasing complexity: starting with straight lines and simple geometric forms to train the hand, and advancing toward the human face and figure. The narrative of the drawing process is consistent: one must begin with broad, structural masses, establishing the relationships of light and shadow before ever considering the subtleties of a likeness.

As the student progresses, the book introduces the methods of "blocking in"—a technique of reducing subjects to their simplest planes. This is followed by the introduction of the stump, which allows for the blending of tones into a cohesive whole. The author emphasizes that the "likeness" of a portrait is an outcome that arrives gradually, almost as a byproduct of accurate construction. To force the expression or the "beauty" of a subject too early is to risk the structural integrity of the work.

The final stage of the arc involves the transition from the classroom to the world at large. The student learns to adapt these studio methods to landscapes and plein-air sketching, where the constraints of light and environment demand faster, more decisive action. The author concludes by returning to the importance of "values"—the relative relationship of darks and lights—as the ultimate metric of a successful drawing. By the end, the reader is prepared to move from copying plates to the study of life, armed with the knowledge that there is no shortcut to proficiency, only the slow, deliberate accumulation of skill.

How It Unfolds

The tools of the craft The text begins by cataloging the essential apparatus of the studio, ranging from imported charcoal and French crayons to the humble use of bread for erasing. It emphasizes that a clean, organized workspace is the first requirement of a serious student.

The architecture of lines Instruction commences with elementary exercises, focusing on straight and curved lines to build muscle memory. The goal here is to establish control before moving on to the complex geometry of simple objects and forms.

The logic of light and shadow The core method involves dividing a subject into two great masses of tone. By applying a flat, even shadow, the student learns to perceive the underlying structure of a head or object before introducing any detail.

The art of measurement The reader learns to abandon rulers and mechanical aids in favor of the eye. By using comparative measurement and the plumb line, the artist captures the balance and proportions of a figure with accuracy.

The pursuit of likeness In portraiture, the instruction emphasizes building the likeness in stages, from the initial charcoal sketch to the final touches with the crayon point. The author stresses that detail and expression are the final results of a well-grounded, structural foundation.

The People

The "people" in this book are the student and the instructor, roles defined by their shared objective: the mastery of the human form. The student is a seeker of craft who is prone to the common temptation of "finishing" too early. Their primary obstacle is their own desire for immediate results, which leads to weak, overly detailed, and ultimately inaccurate work. The student’s transformation depends on their willingness to erase, to work in "angles" rather than "curves," and to accept the "ugliness" of a rough sketch as a necessary step toward truth.

The instructor (the author) acts as a firm, pragmatic guide. He possesses a deep skepticism of "royal roads" to learning, consistently pushing the student to prioritize the relation of tones over the desire for beauty. He is protective of the student's process, advising that a portrait should never be shown until it is finished, lest the interference of outside opinions create a "timid" hand. By defining the rules of proportion—such as the height of a figure being eight heads—the instructor provides the objective standards against which the student can measure their own progress. Together, they represent a partnership of patience, where the instructor provides the discipline and the student provides the perseverance.

In Its Own Voice

"In learning to draw, charcoal is the most available material that can be used, as, with it, large and striking effects are so easily and quickly produced, while it is also adapted to the most careful work, and may be carried on to any degree of finish."

The author introduces charcoal as the primary medium, justifying its use for both the quick sketch and the finished masterpiece.

"Learn to begin a drawing properly and the finishing will be easy enough, being merely a matter of practice when once the manner of working is understood."

This line captures the book’s central philosophy: that a failure in the final image is almost always a failure in the initial structural plan.

"The expression comes last of all, and with it the beauty."

The author warns against the common pitfall of attempting to make a subject look "pretty" before the fundamental anatomy and proportions are sound.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is an argument for the supremacy of structure over embellishment. It posits that the artist’s primary challenge is not the rendering of detail, but the perception of relational values—how one tone, line, or mass exists in relation to its neighbor. The text treats drawing as a form of intellectual analysis; it asks the student to strip away their preconceptions of what a subject "should" look like in favor of a rigorous, evidence-based recording of what is actually there. The underlying question is one of discipline: can the artist subdue their ego and their impatience long enough to allow the truth of the subject to emerge from the darkness of the paper?

Why Read It Today

Readers who will find the most value here are those who feel overwhelmed by the complexities of art and seek a "back-to-basics" manual that demands patience. It is an excellent companion for the self-taught student, as it provides a clear, progressive curriculum that mimics the structure of an atelier. The experience of reading it is like sitting in a quiet, sun-drenched studio; the prose is calm, methodical, and entirely devoid of the frantic energy found in modern "how-to" manuals.

However, a modern reader must be prepared for the book's period-specific context. The instruction assumes access to specific supplies like "Fixatif Rouget" and "Michelet paper," which may require some translation to modern equivalents. Additionally, the author’s insistence on the "Greek statues" as a standard of beauty reflects the academic art tradition of the late 19th century, a perspective that some contemporary readers might find rigid or Eurocentric. Yet, if one can look past these traditional biases, the technical advice—particularly regarding the importance of "blocking in" and the use of the plumb line—remains as sound and applicable today as it was in 1885. It is a book for those who value the process of slow, deliberate improvement over the instant gratification of a quick result.