ed never hope to get on, if you are the least anxious
that the drawing you are actually at work upon should look nice when it
is done. All you have to care about is to make it _right_, and to learn
as much in doing it as possible. So then, though when you are sitting in
your friend's parlor, or in your own, and have nothing else to do, you
may draw anything that is there, for practice; even the fire-irons or
the pattern on the carpet: be sure that it _is_ for practice, and not
because it is a beloved carpet, or a friendly poker and tongs, nor
because you wish to please your friend by drawing her room.
121. Also, never make presents of your drawings. Of course I am
addressing you as a beginner--a time may come when your work will be
precious to everybody; but be resolute not to give it away till you know
that it is worth something (as soon as it is worth anything you will
know that it is so). If any one asks you for a present of a drawing,
send them a couple of cakes of color and a piece of Bristol board: those
materials are, for the present, of more value in that form than if you
had spread the one over the other.
The main reason for this rule is, however, that its observance will much
protect you from the great danger of trying to make your drawings
pretty.
122. (2.) Never, by choice, draw anything polished; especially if
complicated in form. Avoid all brass rods and curtain ornaments,
chandeliers, plate, glass, and fine steel. A shining knob of a piece of
furniture does not matter if it comes in your way; but do not fret
yourself if it will not look right, and choose only things that do not
shine.
(3.) Avoid all very neat things. They are exceedingly difficult to draw,
and very ugly when drawn. Choose rough, worn, and clumsy-looking things
as much as possible; for instance, you cannot have a more difficult or
profitless study than a newly painted Thames wherry, nor a better study
than an old empty coal-barge, lying ashore at low tide: in general,
everything that you think very ugly will be good for you to draw.
(4.) Avoid, as much as possible, studies in which one thing is seen
through another. You will constantly find a thin tree standing before
your chosen cottage, or between you and the turn of the river; its near
branches all entangled with the distance. It is intensely difficult to
represent this; and though, when the tree _is_ there, you must not
imaginarily cut it down, but do it as well as you can, y
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