Thomas Wells Schaller: The Beautiful Intersection of Art and Architecture

The art of the prominent American watercolorist Thomas Wells Schaller is tightly connected with the world of architecture. He wrote two bestselling books The Art of Architectural Drawing and Architecture in Watercolor, won a number of professional awards and international acknowledgement. In his interview to Archcouncil portal, the artist spoke about the connection between imagination, paper and the surrounding world.

— Architectural drawing today is between History and Digital Innovation: what’s in it remained unchanged, and how it proposes itself as the new structure of thought of the modern architect?

— As time moves on, and as technology advances, the means for expression in drawing will evolve as well. Digital drawings are neither «better» nor «worse» than hand-done drawings. They are merely different methods the artist or architect can employ to express his or her vision. And nothing should be ignored or shunned by the artist in the attempt to tell the best story in the best way possible. But any means of expression — any form of non-verbal expression or story-telling — is most effective when it is as immediate and as unfiltered as possible. For me, there is no substitute for the immediacy, fluidity, and expressiveness of the hand- done sketch or drawing. A simple sketch pencil can feel like a natural extension of my arm. It affords an instant hard-wired connection between my imagination and the paper on which my inspiration can be most clearly, quickly, and dramatically expressed.

— What distinguishes the drawing by the architect from the artist’s drawing? Architects and artists depict the architecture different?

— There are all types of artists. Whenever any of us do what we love to do with passion, commitment, honesty, and innovation, we may become artists. By definition then, many an architect is an artist. In terms of drawing, there are many similarities, with non-verbal story-telling being foremost among them. But what the architect and the visual artist have most in common when they draw is the act of «design». Architects most often design by arranging elements of negative and positive space — components and ideas of materiality — to create something in the reality-based three-dimensional world. The visual artist designs as well. But along with many of the same elements used by architects, the added components of expression, emotion, and interpretation come into play.. The drawings of an architect are often to further the hope of building something in the three-dimensional world while most often, the creations of the visual artist must exist in two-dimensions only. So when the visual artist turns attention to architectural subjects, it is understood that what is being drawn or painted is not architecture so much but rather ideas about, feelings of, and reactions to architecture. These sorts of architecturally inspired works live within a world of context — architecture set in a context of ideas , dreams, memories, emotions, and the passage of time.

— Drawing is a way of learning. What you learn and what study, making drawings in different cities around the world?

— This is a great question. We are all products of our own past — our own histories. From a young age, we all grow up with ideas about aesthetics, priorities, beauty, etc. that are not always our own. They are products of our environments and cultures. If we are never exposed to other cultures, to other ways of living and of thinking, we can become quite fixed in our ideas about what is and is not «beautiful», «important», «right» or «wrong». For this reason, travel has always been essential to me. I always knew that there were other ways to look at and experience the world than what I was exposed to in rural America. I knew there were people on the other side of the world who had different, but strongly held priorities, customs, and ideas about life than those of my own people. I wanted to experience as much as I could in the time I had on earth. And yes, drawing was my way of learning. In my sketchbooks, I not only record what I see, but what I felt, what I dreamed about, and what I imagined. And everywhere I have ever been, these dreams and imaginings are influenced because of where I happen to be and the thoughts and customs of the cultures I visit. In this way, my sketchbook drawings are also a sort of «visual diary» of everywhere I have been — both in the real world as well as inside my own heart and mind.

— How do you choose a place to paint, where to put the easel? How do you find stories?

— Wherever I go, I try very hard not to have preconceived ideas about the place — no matter how well I think I may know it from earlier visits or from having read about and studied it. I try to see it — to experience it — with new eyes. I will spend some hours just walking, sketching, looking, feeling. Without exception, something will speak to me. And very often this will not be what I thought it might be. If there are any consistent themes in my work and in my sources of inspiration, it is light and conflict. It is the interplay of light and dark, and the dialog of other «opposites» — warm and cool, built and unbuilt, horizontal and vertical, etc. And lighting conditions change from city to city, from day to day, from minute to minute sometimes. I try very hard not to look too much at specific «things» or «scenes». I look to be moved by abstract compositions of light, textures, and shapes — in the built environment, on a person’s face, in a crowd of people, in a forest, etc. In my sketchbook, I will rough in these abstract compositions of darks and lights until I have an interesting, pleasing, or challenging design. This is where I will then most often set up my easel. I then will add elements of reality to my abstract designs of light. And in this way, I often find the best stories my drawings and paintings can tell.

— The cities where you draw, usually arranged in very different ways. Which spaces seem to be most comfortable and cozy? On what principles they are arranged?

— Naturally, all places — certainly all cities — are different and all have many things that might compel an artist or architect to want to draw. The chaos and lack of a regular street grid found in many cities around the world can be just as compelling as the regular symmetry and formality of many others. A place like Venice, Italy for example has as many compelling small, informal, and enclosed spaces as it does wide open formal plazas. Generally, I find myself avoiding the more typical views and try to find the out of the way spaces and less travelled roads. Not always, but often they have much to offer. On any given day, any such place may speak to me and inspire me to paint. If the light has something unusual to say, I am always listening — wherever it may be.

— Could you say that your technique is somehow evolved from early works to the present?

— Definitely both what and how I draw and paint has changed a good deal over the years. I suppose the simplest way to say it is that I used to strive to make my drawings and paintings as technically perfect as possible. But now I strive to make them as personally expressive and communicative as possible. My earliest works were informed by the ideals of the Beaux Arts; where there were subjective ideals and benchmarks of beauty. The actual hand of the artist was often hidden behind layers of technique and skill that aspired to removed, lofty ideals. I still love that type of work and I still strive to become technically better every day. But now I want my drawings and my paintings to look as if only I could have done them. I want to be able to tell stories directly to my viewers. I used to want to keep my viewer at a distance. Now I want to draw them into my work and therefore, into my world.

— Could ordinary building of modern cities be just as expressive as the historic city, and whether it might be a subject for your work?

— Yes, ordinary streets and buildings — of any era — can make superb subjects for paintings. And I usually gravitate toward them more often than to the more famous and historic ones. I spent many years of my life living in New York City. And paintings I do there of ordinary street scenes are usually much more evocative and expressive than whatever I might try to paint of the Empire State building or the Brooklyn Bridge which have been photographed and painted a million times before. And as beautiful as the Neo-Classical New York Public Library may be, I love drawing and painting rather anonymous examples of modernist architecture at least as much. It is often easier to draw the viewer into the world of your painting in this way.

— What do you think as the artist, what differs principles of arrangement of the classic historical city from the modern one?

— I have a great love of urban planning and am fascinated by the evolution of cities from the ancient to the modern world. While there was a coherent plan to many ancient cities, naturally the scale and the priorities have changed over the centuries. The comparatively small, walled and fortified city of ancient Rome for example has evolved into the sprawling modern metropolis we know today. As an artist, it is not just this clash of light and dark, of scale, materials, and shapes that fascinate and inspire me, it is the concept of time.