Lines of Memory

'Mountains-details' graphite and charcoal on acid free paper

As a contemporary artist whose drawing practice, begins with a stroke and ends with a stroke, I draw with graphite and charcoal, both, traditionally basic mark making tools that have been around for centuries, and used as preparation for great works. I embrace the simplicity of charcoal and graphite to strip down my process to its barest ingredients. Not for tradition’s sake, but because these materials allow me to pursue the fragility, resilience, and mystery that I find at the heart of art.

Every drawing I make begins with a line. It may be repeated thousands of times, layered until it becomes dense and atmospheric, but at its core, the work is an accumulation of lines.

For me, the line is more than a mark on paper. It is a way of measuring time, a record of presence and persistence. Each graphite or charcoal stroke carries both precision and fragility, a reminder that memory, like drawing, is constructed incrementally, moment by moment.

Detail of Douglas Gilbert drawing.

I am drawn to the neutrality of grayscale. Without the distraction of color, the viewer encounters the raw architecture of form and space. Graphite and charcoal offer endless variations in weight, tone, and texture. A soft smudge can evoke distance or atmosphere; a hard line can anchor the figure or landscape in place. Together, they create tension between clarity and dissolution, presence and absence.

Over the years, I have found myself returning again and again to this practice. It is slow work, but I believe slowness is essential. The repetition of line becomes meditative, yet it also builds toward something larger, an image that resonates with memory, with silence, with the fleeting quality of experience.

Whether I am working on a large-scale landscape or the beginnings of a new series exploring the human figure, the line remains my constant. It is the thread that weaves my drawing practice together, carrying both discipline and discovery.