Showing posts with label pencil. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pencil. Show all posts

Monday, 5 November 2018

The Pencil: Sustainability

A 'Yes You Can' set of uplifting quotes on pencils, made from incense-cedar and lots of other things

I thought I'd revisit some of my earlier posts on artists' materials and think about them from a sustainability point of view. A while ago I posted on graphite, it's most common drawing use is in the form of pencil leads, so I shall begin there. 


Pencils, if they have attachments on the end are made from zinc and copper, as well as the lead's clay and graphite mix, and of course there is that eraser on the end which in the case of the Pink Pearl includes added pumice. The wood is though the material that appears to be the most obvious sustainability issue. My first question is what sort of wood is it? In the USA pencils are often made from incense-cedar. A reddish-brown wood with a fine, straight grain. I checked and this is not listed in the CITES appendices and is reported by the IUCN as being a species of least concern. P
oplar (Populus tremula), and juniper (Juniperus excelsa) are also used extensively as wood for pencils. Poplar is not listed in the CITES Appendices but Juniper has been declining throughout the UK in range and abundance. It is not known exactly why it is declining, but it appears that the plants are unable to regenerate successfully.




Incense-cedar

IUCN: the International Union for Conservation of Nature is the global authority on the status of the natural world and the measures needed to safeguard it.


CITES: the Convention on International Trade of Endangered Species, has three different levels of protection for species, known as Appendices.

Appendix I – This appendix represents species that are in the most danger and are considered to be threatened with extinction, and are consequently the most restricted in international trade.
Appendix II – This appendix contains species that are at risk in the wild, but not necessarily threatened with extinction. Species in this appendix are closely regulated, but are typically not as restricted as Appendix I.
Appendix III – This appendix contains species that a certain country (called a “party” within CITES), has voluntarily requested to be regulated in order to help preserve the species in question. Appendix III species regulation is only applicable for the specific party that has requested its inclusion, and is therefore much less restrictive than Appendix I or II.
As I started to research woods, I found this very interesting downloadable resource. It's a wood handbook that looks at wood from the point of view of what can you do with it. As I began to read through what is undoubtedly a fascinating document, I became more and more aware how we as a species really think of other species. The handout deals with how to cut, shape, fix, use and get the most out of each wood. It regards wood as being unique, but only in the sense of what we can do with it. No effort at all is put into thinking about the eco-relationship these wonderful things might have with the world around them and how they have evolved into the various niches that they have grown to fit, like the image above of incense cedar, each tree is isolated, its properties itemised and its use value assessed. The only times other issues are mentioned are when a particular tree resource seems to have been overused, so there are now no naturally grown stocks of it left, and the handbook usually then suggests that another type of wood is similar, so we should now use that. 

So the trees that the wood comes from unless it comes from a declining juniper stock, are not according to my research endangered. However, the trucks used to transport the wood pollute the air by releasing carbon monoxide and burning hydrocarbons. Typically large stands of incense-cedar are grown far away from cities and manufacturing centres, so there will be a lot of transportation and associated pollution involved.  
The wood once it gets to the factory is treated with chemicals to remove insect infestations, these chemicals often find their way into the surrounding environment. The tree trunks are then cut into blocks that are then cut into slats. Eight shallow grooves are then sawed lengthwise into each slat. The energy used to drive the machines that do this work is of course going to come from electrical power, that is itself produced by often non sustainable coal or oil burning processes. 



Stages in pencil manufacture

Before the slats can be filled with graphite and clay these substances are mixed together in a large rotating drum. Rocks inside the drum crush the graphite and clay into a fine powder and water is then added, the mixture then has to thoroughly soak for up to three days. The mixture is than taken to another machine to squeeze all the water out leaving behind a grey sludge, which then has to dry out over four days. After drying, the pencil leads are put into an oven heated to 1,800 degrees F. 

The shallow grooves in the slats are filled with the graphite clay mix and then another grooved slat is glued down on top of the first one. 
Graphite and clay both need to be mined. I have looked at some of the problems that come from graphite mining and they can be severe. At night in areas around graphite mines, "The air sparkles" reported a Chinese farmer worried about his health and that of his crops. A lustrous grey dust settles over his fields, crops are stunted, food is gritty and the local water is becoming undrinkable. Since graphite mining has developed in his area, many of the local trees have died. Graphite is mainly used for lithium batteries now and pencil leads are only a small concern. I was not surprised at how easily a fine dust could spread out and pollute an area and although I have yet to find details of the working conditions of those people actually involved with mining graphite for pencils, I would suspect they are poor and because fine particles of dust are so bad for the lungs, I would also suspect their life expectancy is pretty short. 

Yunshan graphite mine

Once dry the joined slats are machined in order to shape the individual pencils. Fast revolving steel blades trim the wood into round or hexagonal shapes, one side at a time. The pencils then have to be paint coated, printed with the company name and important technical details. Once the pencil has been painted, a metal band is wrapped tightly around one end of the pencil so that an eraser can be fitted.  

I found this in the US patents list:
UNITED STATES PATENT Office
EBERHARD FABER, OF WEST NEW BRIGHTON, NEW YORK. 
MEANS FOR ATTACHING RUBBER TIPS TO PENCILS. 
SPECIFICATION forming part of Letters Patent No. 457,579, dated August 11, 1891, 
Application filed March 26, 1891. Serial No. 386,422. (No model.) L 
To all whom, it may concern: 
Be it known that I, EBERHARD FABER, a citizen of the United States, residing at West New Brighton, in the county of Richmond and State of New York, have invented an Improvement in Means for Attaching Rubber Tips to Pencils, of which the following is a specification. 
Lead-pencils have been provided with india-rubber erasers or tips at one end attached by bands or cylinders of metal or other material, and very frequently the cylinder that is connected to the pencil has been provided with a screw-thread in the sheet metal of the cylinder for screwing the rubber into or out of the holder. In practice it has been found that the rubber is liable to Work loose within the metallic tube or holder and fall out, especially when such rubber projects to a distance beyond the end of the metal tube. Paper tubes or holders have been made use of at the end of the pencil to connect the rubber to the same; but such paper tubes are liable to become injured and they are not easily kept clean and the paper detracts from the appearance of the pencil. 
In the drawings, Figure l is an elevation of my improved pencil, and Fig. 2 a section, both being of magnified size. 
In my present improvementsI make use of a narrow metal band A in order to lessen the expense and at the same time to maintain the proper appearance of the pencil, and I insert the rubber plug or eraser B into this band A. If these parts only were made use of, the rub her would be liable to separate from the band and the band to separate from the pencil. To avoid these two difficulties I roughen the metal band A on its exterior surface by pressing into the metal band peripheral grooves or similar indentations, and I apply glue at D between the inner end of the plug and the end of the pencil C in order that such glue may cause the rubber to adhere directly to the pencil and that the glue may pass into the grooves or roughening of the metal band, and thereby connect the rubber and the band and the band and the pencil, because such glue spreads into the grooves and by setting retains the band in position, although such glue may not adhere to the metal itself. Iinsure a firm hold of the pencil to the metal band and the rubber by this simple but efficient device. 
I claim as my invention The combination, with the rubber tip or eraser and the pencil, of a narrow metallic band surrounding the junction of the two and having peripheral grooves or indenta' tions, there being glue or similar adhesive material between the rubber and the pencil end, which also passes into the grooves or rouehening of the metallic band for connecting the parts together, substantially as set forth. 
Signed by me this 20th day of March,l89l. 
EBERHARD FABER.


I don't think the patent was ever granted but I found the issue of ownership interesting. Someone wanted to own this just slightly different way of putting an eraser onto the end of a pencil. Just as in the wood handbook, the language used suggests the staking of a claim over things. I'm reminded of the land claims that the North American Indian tribes fell foul of.  Some animals mark the temporary use of territory, they lay down scent trails or scratch claw marks into trees but only humans legally lay claim to ownership of the earth, its plants and other humans' thoughts and ideas. 

The pencils are sharpened and then packaged. Pencils come in variety of packaging and many of them come in plastic bubble packs; pencils are no different from so many products in being wrapped in totally unsustainable, non biodegradable, petrochemical eco-disaster threatening plastic. I doubt I need to begin looking at any other art materials, the point should have been made. But remember it doesn't end there, what if you make a pencil drawing that is then sold to a famous gallery that now begins to exert great efforts in preserving this drawing, by framing it under glass, keeping it at a constant temperature under controlled lighting. This drawing may be shipped around the world to other galleries, that also spend energy on ensuring its safety and displaying it in such a way that its status is enhanced. 
So why am I pushing this sustainability issue? I think it's because the older I get the more I see that everything is about relationships and how things are connected. Drawing is one area of art that escaped being seen as a finished product. It was historically seen as a process on the way towards something. You used drawing to plan, to work out what you were going to do, or to collect information such as how things looked, so that you could make paintings or sculptures from the information gathered. This meant that for many years drawing was little valued and paintings and sculptures were seen as the high points of art practice. However the more I think about how we are brought up to consume, the more I realise that consumerism teaches us to desire things and these things are usually objects separated from any sort of communal values other than the basic ones of I've got more and better things than you have.  When objects are separated from their context, we can be sold them as answers to our desires and we can buy them without any concerns as to where they have come from and what went on in their production. So part of looking at the details behind the production of things is to try and get beyond their 'isolated object' status and to see things as part of a web of connections. If I am that bit more aware of where a pencil comes from and how its manufacture might impact on other things, perhaps it might deepen my understanding of where other things come from and how they are deeply inter-connected into the web of life. I realise I make compromises, and sometimes I use materials that I haven't thought enough about myself. But I do try to think through how everything is interconnected, how all the things I have done in my own life are threaded together. How what used to be called the wyrd can still be seen as a useful metaphor for life. These are small steps and when you look at the problems of global warming facing us all, it can appear to be so daunting that you just want to walk away and forget it all. But in reality at a microscopic scale we are all just vibrating patterns, patterns that seem to connect to each other in the most surprising ways. An acceptance to this and an awareness that it is desire that causes us unhappiness, might be a good first step to take, and then as we move on perhaps the work we do might have some wider relevance than just to the world of art. 


One image still haunts me, the fact that at night in areas around graphite mines, "The air sparkles". The graphite dust settles over the ground and at night if the moon is shining very clearly the landscape will twinkle and softly glow, as the hexagonal structure of graphite reflects the moonlight, the tiny graphite particles, diamond like, glint in the dark, a presage of something to come, of a future not far away, or perhaps a future already here. It will be from the soil of images like these, that I suspect art will arise, and it will hopefully be art worthy of the subject. 

If you now go back to the original post on graphite, one of the links I put in it was to the work of T. R. Ericsson, not so much because of the power of his images, but to highlight the technique he was using, that of pushing powdered graphite through the mesh of a photo-silkscreen. I would like to imagine a new work using the same process, but this time the photograph is of a snow twinkling landscape, one that we sometimes receive as a card near Xmas time, one that has all the sentimental associations of a snow covered rural countryside. Then to reverse the image, to make the negative into a very large silkscreen and to print off the image using Ericsson's graphite print method.  You could then do the same thing with a photograph of the area that surrounds a real graphite mine. This could be the starting point for a new body of work. 

The hidden tales of graphite mines

See also: 

Tuesday, 21 February 2017

Pencils and Erasers

This is another of my occasional posts whereby I look at what goes on when you actually make a drawing. In this case I shall ramble around a few ideas coming from that old and well-loved technique ‘pencil on paper’ and the indispensable eraser. 
I asked myself a very basic question about why marks stick on surfaces in an earlier post about ink on paper, so thought it a good idea to begin this post with the same question. In this case the sticking of graphite to paper. Perfect graphite consists of sheets of atom-thick carbon atoms whose intermolecular forces (specifically instantaneous induced dipoles) cause them to stick together, and the graphite in your pencil is made of many layers. However, the intermolecular forces between the graphite sheets and the paper are greater than the intermolecular forces between the graphite sheets, so when rubbed together, the graphite sticks to the page and shears off of your lead, leaving graphite on the page and a dull tip on your pencil.

The process is not due to a chemical reaction it is because of a physical process called physiosorption. Physiosorption creates a bond between two surfaces primarily through the effect of van der Waals forces, which are electrostatic as opposed to chemical. What's happening is that graphite (a naturally-occurring form of crystalline carbon) has a structure with lots of layers. These layers are only weakly bonded (if compared to a covalent or ionic bond) to each other by van der Waals forces, allowing them to shear easily away onto the paper when you use your pencil, which is why we use graphite in pencils in the first place. (Most solids won't rub off onto a surface so easily, see Mohs scale of mineral hardness, graphite is only between 1 and 2 on that scale). So after being sheared off the pencil tip, the graphite planes (referred to individually as graphene planes) will bond with the paper using the same van der Waals forces.  (It's the van der Waals attraction between surfaces and the foot-hairs of geckos that gives them the ability to climb up vertical walls) The process works so well that enough graphite is deposited in a line drawn by a pencil, that it can conduct electricity.  

Paper is also full of little holes, divots and fibers that get filled with graphite particles. Therefore another area that needs exploring when it comes to why marks adhere to the paper surface is the nature of paper itself, something that has again been touched on in earlier posts, but not yet on a microscopic level, I shall look at this at some point in the future.

Objects like pencils leave skid marks’ on paper, the visible marks left by any solid which moves against another. Such marks are important evidence for any visual interpretation in relation to what happened when these contacts were made. For instance when car accidents are reconstructed, the size and shape of these marks can be used to determine vehicle speed and forces of acceleration or deceleration. They are a form of trace evidence. These types of marks are often encountered in criminal cases, so perhaps also think of bite marks or scratch marks. They represent a form of contact evidence produced in forensic terms according to Locard’s exchange principle. (Whereby the perpetrator of a crime will bring something into the crime scene and leave with something from it) or "Every contact leaves a trace".
I have looked at the idea of drawings as traces before, but in this case you can begin to think of a drawing as a form of ‘trace evidence’.
Trace evidence in police terms, is any type of material left at (or taken from) a crime scene, or the result of contact between two surfaces, such as shoes and a floor covering or soil, or fibers from where someone sat on an upholstered chair. So one way to read a drawing is for you to become more like Sherlock Holmes and to look at each physical mark and read it as indicative of a suspect action, as if the drawing was a crime scene.
If I was to have to wipe out the evidence, the normal tool in the case of a pencil drawing would be a rubber or eraser. If it was a crime scene of course the first question would be why have certain things been removed from the scene? But in this case I’m looking more at how.

An eraser works in several ways, one of which is by giving the graphite that has adhered to the paper something more attractive to stick to. The structure of the rubber material makes the graphite stick more strongly to it than to the paper. Because it has a stronger attraction to the graphite than the paper, the stronger bond will remove the graphite from the paper when you move the eraser.
However, simply washing with soap and water will also remove graphite from paper. Water and soap will interrupt the van der Waals bonding between the graphite planes. Again this could reflect the idea of clearing up a crime scene. So would you decide to wash marks out of a drawing rather than rub them out? How would this effect the final outcome?
Thinking of washing, we always used to keep a pumice stone in the bathroom which was used to get rid of hard to remove grime and pumice is also an important ingredient in erasers. Pumice, in the form of a particular volcanic ash from Italy was used mixed in with rubber to give erasers their abrasive quality, whereby they break down the surface of the paper in order to detach the graphite marks. Hence Faber's the Pink Pearl.

19th century pencil drawing of Pompeii

Volcanic ash can be thought of as a geological eraser, falling like snow, it obliterates the landscape below. Pompeii was lost under volcanic ash and as the ruins were uncovered they became a favourite place for travellers to visit and make drawings. There are thousands of 'tourists' drawings of these ruins and they became an integral part of the European Romantic tradition. Artists would follow 'the Grand Tour' and following on from the artists who made these sites visible, the elite of Northern Europe travelled to centres like Pompeii as necessary rites of passage. These romantic ruins invited spectators' reflections on transience, death, and decay. The romance of the ruin eventually became a key concept that lay at the core of certain artistic practices. Rauschenberg famously erased a De Kooning drawing, in effect erasing the idea of the genius artist, another romantic trope. 

Rauschenberg: erased De Kooning

Vija Celmins: Eraser, 1967 acrylic on balsa wood 6-5/8 x 20 x 3-1/8 inches

In 1966-67, Vija Celmins made four painted sculptures: three Pink Pearl erasers and one pencil, meticulously crafted of painted balsa wood and giganticised. The edges of the erasers are slightly worn, they have been used; but for what purpose? The construction of exact replicas used to be part of another set of art tropes, including 'realism' and in the 1960s objects taken from the everyday and remade larger were seen as part of the 'Pop Art' genre. I would however like to propose a conceptual piece, I construct a hypothetical drawing, whereby the Pink Pearl is used to erase a 'Grand tour' pencil drawing of the ruins of Pompeii. A final gesture to signal the end of Romanticism.

Edward Naime, an English engineer, is credited with the invention of the eraser (1770). Up until that time, people usually used rolled-up pieces of white bread to erase pencil marks, and bread as a staple food is suggestive of a completely different narrative. As you can see I’m just following thoughts as they occur to me. Hopefully making the idea of undertaking some research interesting, and perhaps helping to confront that old art/science divide that so many of us worry about. I also thought it fascinating that when in 1858, Hymen Lipman received a patent for attaching erasers to the ends of pencils, it was invalidated because it combined two existing products rather than an invented new one.

Coda:

A while after putting up this post I came across the work of Lucienne Rickard. She had a project based at the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery, whereby she spent weeks drawing large images of critically endangered species in graphite. She would draw lost species as well, deer and crayfish, mice and turtles, a lake newt and a robber frog and when she had finished each drawing she would rub it out. The last drawing to be done was of a critically endangered swift parrot and a crowd came on the final day to watch it being erased. Each drawing had been done on the same sheet of paper and as she had erased these drawings, shards of 25 rubbers, the shavings from many sharpened pencils and removed graphite particles were collecting on the floor below it. Ghosts of all the drawings could be seen as you looked carefully at the paper, remains of lost drawings caught in the fibres of the paper and haunting the final image of the parrot, as it too was erased. In all she had drawn 38 images of disappearing or disappeared flora and fauna, each one reduced to a ghost of its former self by the process of erasure. 


Lucienne Rickard: extinction studies 

In Rickard's work we can see the act of erasure being used as a powerful metaphor, she takes Rauschenberg's idea of erasing the work of another artist and uses it to raise awareness of our collective responsibility to the environment. 


Wednesday, 6 July 2016

Drawing with unusual materials



Bride stripped bare by her Bachelors, Even

Perhaps the most important individual piece of work in relation to drawing with non-traditional art materials is Marcel Duchamp’s Large Glass (Bride stripped bare by her Bachelors, Even).

The materials used are chosen very carefully as part of a complex set of meanings pre-thought through by Duchamp and detailed in his comprehensive notes which were themselves published as 94 separate documents in what was called ‘The Green Box’.

Richard Hamilton made a full sized replica working directly from the notes in ‘the Green Box’, this is how the Tate Gallery describes how it was done:


‘The first step was to make a full-size perspective drawing from the given dimensions in the plan and elevation and other Green Box notes for the lower part of the Glass, in the hope of producing a drawing similar to the one which once existed on the plaster wall of Duchamp's studio in Paris, but which has since been destroyed. To produce this he found it necessary to do dozens of other perspective studies and to work with threads, using the vanishing points to establish the perspective construction. References were made to the original Glass more to gain knowledge of the construction of subject matter than to copy delineations on the surface of the original. Slight differences in perspective were accepted to maintain an integrity in the reconstruction equalling that of the original. Tracings were made, from the new perspective, of each of the elements with key lines added to relate them to each other. These tracings, reversed, were attached to the front of the glass to give the positioning of lead wire, formed to the drawing, then cemented to the back of the glass with mastic varnish.
Duchamp had made two studies on glass for parts of the composition, 'Water Mill within Glider (in neighbouring metals)' and 'Nine Malic Moulds', and gave permission for these studies to be repeated for the reconstruction and as a means of gaining experience in handling the medium. In addition, Hamilton made two further studies not found necessary by Duchamp: a small glass of the 'Sieves', trying out a specified dust raising process, and another of the 'Oculist Witnesses'. The 'Oculist Witnesses', unlike the rest of the Glass, demanded a technique not used by Duchamp. The right-hand area of the lower glass had been silvered on the back and a drawing transferred to the silver by Duchamp through a piece of carbon paper. The silvering was then scraped away up to the drawn lines leaving the brilliantly reflective image. The long process was shortened in the remake by means of a silk-screen made from a blocked-in redrawing of the carbon paper. Pigment screened on to the mirror formed a resist which allowed the redundant silver to be etched away. Duchamp felt that the two studies for the 'Sieves' and the 'Oculist Witnesses' were new and, at his suggestion, they were published by the Petersburg Press in editions of 50, signed jointly by Hamilton and himself. The upper half of the Glass is less precise in its drawing; 'Bride' and 'Blossoming' are free organic constructions. The outlines in these cases were taken from photographs. The 'Shots', nine holes drilled at spots located by projecting a paint-dipped match from a toy cannon, were plotted from the Philadelphia Glass in accordance with notes and measurements taken by a research graduate who went to the USA to check these and other measurements, to examine Duchamp's handling of the wire, and to make certain colour notes. In carrying out this reconstruction Hamilton deliberately avoided making a copy of the present appearance of the Glass and reproducing the severe deterioration which has occurred, partly as a result of the fragmentation of the glass itself. Instead he set out to make the glass as it was conceived, accepting that it would likewise change to some extent with the passage of time. Unlike the original, however, it will never crack, as it is made of Armour-plated glass.’

The issue here is how complex the interrelationship is between both methods of construction, (using thread to make perspective constructions, silvering the glass, firing paint dipped sticks etc.) and the actual ‘meaning’ of materials chosen, (dust, lead wire, oil paint or glass). Duchamp is playing a humorous game with his audience at the same time as testing out how allegorical meanings can be played out using imagery, composition, point of view, illusion, strategy, materials choice etc. His particular investigation into the allegorical potential of material properties probably stemming from his interest in alchemic understandings of the transformative nature of materials.

Some of Duchamp’s materials carry with them an almost ‘mythic’ story, such as the dust used as a means of filling in between the lines of his lead lined shapes.


Dust Breeding: Man Ray

This photograph by Man Ray of what looks like a landscape is in fact a layer of dust that had gathered on the surface of the Large Glass when it had been left for a while in Duchamp’s studio. Duchamp eventually wiped the dust from the surface of the work except for certain areas where it was fixed with glue, thus preserving it as an embodiment of the passage of time. While the dust was left to settle Duchamp had to hang a sign nearby to prevent cleaning attempts by well-meaning visitors: “Dust breeding: To be respected” It took several months for a thick film of dust to settle on the surface. Dust, a sign of neglect, becomes the product of purposeful inactivity.



To Be Looked at (from the Other Side of the Glass) with One Eye...


It’s interesting to examine the links between the last two posts on illusion and materials in relation to Duchamp’s work because it shows how they could be combined. He was fascinated by perspective and the idea of viewpoint, having already done work such as ‘To Be Looked at (from the Other Side of the Glass) with One Eye, Close to, for Almost an Hour’ and his final painting called Tu m’.



Tu m'

The cast shadows in Tu m’ refer to three existing ready-mades, the bicycle wheel, corkscrew, and hat rack. Rendered illusionistically is a pointing painted hand and rip and alongside these trompe l’oeil elements are real objects: a bottle brush, a bolt, and safety pins. He uses both perspective and axonometric representational systems to depict coloured rays extending out from lines that represent an earlier work ‘3 Standard Stoppages’ and the whole image is meant to be read as an anamorphic projection which ‘rights’ itself if you look at it from the right hand side. Also included are actual objects such as a brush which itself emerges from the tromp l’oeil painted rip in the canvas which is “repaired” with a real safety pin.  

Duchamp in putting all these various elements together is in effect pointing to the various ways art can engage with illusions of reality: as technical drawing, perspective projection, shadow, trompe l’oeil, or as a re-reading of real objects designed to destabilise the way we think of reality itself.
I suppose what I’m getting at is that as an artist you can move your attention between different approaches, at one time developing a specific approach to materials and their choice, and then perhaps refocusing on the private story behind these choices and developing strategies for how the various elements are composed or brought together. You need to decide how an approach to visualisation will affect the viewer. Is the work going to be illusionistic, image based, abstract or non-figurative? If illusionistic to what level will illusion be taken, is it going to ‘fool the eye’ or are you going to give the viewer a way into seeing the illusion for what it is? Point of view is essential here, be this a physical one, as in the case of perspectives that can only be seen accurately from one place, or whether it is in the choice of a material because of a very private association, or a material chosen to reflect a scientific notion in relation to its importance to the way the world works (perhaps how certain gases cause global warming), or a chosen alternative logic, such as alchemy or economic value. Decisions like this both establish the artist's point of view and become the visual entry points for an audience eager to establish their own point of view.


As soon as you begin the most humble drawing, perhaps a small pencil sketch, possibilities open out. You can take a point of view on the subject to be drawn, the way its drawn, the type of paper its drawn on, the nature of the pencil, the proclivities and interests of the drawer, all open out avenues for an artist's investigation.
I’ll leave you with one final thought about material. How do pencil marks ‘adhere’ to the paper?
The graphite itself adheres to paper fibres using what are called London forces (click to read the full scientific description) it's not a strong adhesion because as you know the marks can be erased easily with a rubber or smudged with a finger and of course some of the graphite is just mechanically stuck between the paper fibres. We tend to forget that at an atomic level everything is in flux, there is no such thing as a fixed entity, so all the time we are ourselves exchanging molecules atoms and electrons with our immediate environment and as we perform actions, such as making a drawing, we are simply taking part in a continuous exchange of energy/matter flow. There is enough graphite deposited in a line drawn by your pencil to conduct electricity and the only reason you are able to firmly hold that pencil is that at some point calcium-binding phosphoproteins came into being following the violent moves of tectonic plates about 1.5 billion years ago which saw huge amounts of minerals, including CaCO3 being washed into the oceans. Unicellular organisms had to find ways to cope with these excessive amounts of minerals and one way was to process this new influx by creating what we now know as bone, first of all by making protective outer shells and much later by developing the same process inside of organisms, thus making the first skeletons. Without this skeleton you would not be able to hold the pencil… “and so it goes”, as Kurt Vonnegut would say.


All materials are of course unusual and fascinating, it's the artist's job to communicate that to everyone else.  


The Kurdish-Iraqi artist Hiwa K in his video and sculpture installation 'The Bell Project' calls this process of re-thinking materials, 'possibilities of transformation'. In order to make this work he followed and filmed the activities of a Kurdish scrap yard owner, who collected military waste left over from the various conflicts that had taken place in the area. The scrap dealer then had the metals melted down into ingots which could then be sold to various manufacturing centres as raw material for new products. Hiwa K, aware of the old European tradition of having church bells melted down to make weapons in time of war, decided to reverse the process and had ingots from the Kurdish scrap yard sent to a bell boundary in Italy and made into a bell, decorated with designs taken from Assyrian relief sculptures. 
By developing a new narrative for these materials Hiwa K makes us aware of the economic complexities of conflict and the need to at times reverse the processes at work if we are ever to heal the wounds of continuous warfare.