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copyright of all images appearing on this site remains with australian artist, patrick christie
no commercial or public use is to be made of any image appearing on this site without written consent from the artist
no commercial or public use is to be made of any image appearing on this site without written consent from the artist
i use two nibs for each artwork to achieve the finest detail possible. constantly moving
the nib across the page dulls the needle-sharp point. some drawings even require a
third or fourth
i’m careful not to load the nib with too much ink—my greatest fears are an ink blotch or dragging my hand across wet ink. nibs are split down the middle, limiting the direction it can move across the page. if half the nib catches it will flick the ink and splatter across the page. nearing the end of an artwork—often with over 200 hours invested—i’m particularly conscious of these fears. ink is an unforgiving medium: once on the page, it's there to stay
even though i move my hand at a monotonous pace from the inkwell to the page, it's important i check the nib after every dip. a single hair or a tiny piece of fluff picked up from the paper can turn the finest nib into a brush which can be disastrous when working with high detail
once finished and signed i feel deflated and put the work away. i've been looking at it intently for so long that by the time it’s finished i’m no longer sure it's even good. sometimes this fear grips me near completion and i must discover enough trust to finish. often i enjoy great satisfaction from the work about a month later —pulling it out to find courage as i fight the same melancholia in finishing my latest drawing
i’m careful not to load the nib with too much ink—my greatest fears are an ink blotch or dragging my hand across wet ink. nibs are split down the middle, limiting the direction it can move across the page. if half the nib catches it will flick the ink and splatter across the page. nearing the end of an artwork—often with over 200 hours invested—i’m particularly conscious of these fears. ink is an unforgiving medium: once on the page, it's there to stay
even though i move my hand at a monotonous pace from the inkwell to the page, it's important i check the nib after every dip. a single hair or a tiny piece of fluff picked up from the paper can turn the finest nib into a brush which can be disastrous when working with high detail
once finished and signed i feel deflated and put the work away. i've been looking at it intently for so long that by the time it’s finished i’m no longer sure it's even good. sometimes this fear grips me near completion and i must discover enough trust to finish. often i enjoy great satisfaction from the work about a month later —pulling it out to find courage as i fight the same melancholia in finishing my latest drawing