Drawing the outdoors in Epping Forest
21.07.2023 - 08:03
/ roughguides.com
I hate being late, but on this crisp morning I find myself rushing. I am glued to my phone screen attempting to navigate the lined pathways through the sprawling woodland of Epping Forest, which borders northeast London and Essex. Tripping on branches and sinking in muddy puddles, I can feel the oozing thick dirt creep into the holes of my black Converse, coating my socks and feet. Cursing myself under my breath for wearing such silly attire, I continue to run through the grass to try and find a group of people somewhere in the distance, standing by a tree.
After traipsing back on myself a handful of times, I find the group and rush over. I’m joining them to attend a drawing class run by local artist Sharon Drew. Her work has appeared in interior magazine shoots for Elle Decoration and Livingetc. and she has also appeared in The Guardian. I had read about her Green Sketching sessions online, and gleed at such a zen activity back during the winter lockdown, where the only thing you could enjoy was a walk outside. Right now though, I’m feeling anything but zen.
The people in the class look calm and collected, some sit on and some lean against said tree. They spy me approaching with my wet shoes and blue jeans which are now coated in mud, too, their eyes fixated on my feet. The sunny day in London yesterday hasn’t dried the ground one bit.
Finding a tree to draw is easy in Epping Forest © Photography Harriet MacSween 2020
We’re a smaller group (due to Covid-19 restrictions) and the rest of the class have already started excelling in their artistic skills. I see squiggles, shapes and lines all over pieces of paper. After a quick introduction, I perch myself on a tree trunk. I can feel the lines of the bark beneath me, as I settle in with my own sheet of paper, sturdy clipboard, pencils, rubber, and the main tool of the day – charcoal. “There’s plenty of charcoal here!” Sharon enthuses with a wide smile as she stretches her arms out to our surroundings.
“Just draw lines,” Sharon instructs as I catch my breath. Holding the thin brittle piece of charcoal, I draw endless loops which relax me. I then let the charcoal take the lead and my hand follows it behind. I use the rubber to etch in random white lines, smudge the charcoal with my hand to make a cloud and create fine lines with the pencil. Tiny birds tweet in the background, while a fluffy, yapping dog chases a ball. The line that the dog runs in inspires my movements with the charcoal.
Sharon collects a cluster of leaves from the floor and hands one to each of us in the group. I look closely at mine, the top of it is slightly curved, its stalk looks aged. The fine lines of the fragile leaf trail off, just like the map lines I followed earlier that morning.