You may have heard me wax poetic about this before, but there is an amazingly “sexy” quality to a well drawn line. Lines, no matter which emotion or ideal they are trying to convey, from lust to anger to joy to melancholy, when well constructed, are just fucking SEXY.
I didn’t always know this, if I’m being honest. Many many moons ago, at the tender age of 19, I had a drawing teacher named Jane Rosen, at the School of Visual Arts. Jane’s chief medium was sculpture, but she also taught multiple other classes, and importantly (for me at least) she taught Foundational Drawing to freshmen.
Jane was forever talking about the “sensuality” of line, the “sexiness” of line… not in a lascivious sense, but in the sense that it could draw you in like a sirens song. One well crafted line could convey a symphony of ideas in a world where a hundred lesser lines couldn’t even hold a tune.
For months I failed to grasp the concept. I mentally banged my forehead against a wall of understanding, thinking I should just give up and become a plumber or something. We drew from life a lot, sometimes object still life, but most often live models. As a draftsman, I was perfectly serviceable. But, as an artist? My lines couldn’t even hum, let alone hold a tune.
The one day, as we drew from a live model, my little charcoal stained fingers drew the supple curving contour along the model’s back, from shoulder to hip bone… and something CLICKED. My hand somehow drew not just what I saw, but what I felt the skin was like, what I believed the form was doing. And a female voice, slightly tinged with gravel, said “Now THAT is a sexy line…” from behind me. It was Jane, looking on my drawing in an approving manner.
And I suddenly got it. I saw it. The sexiness and sensual pull of lines.
And the thing is, once you see it, you always recognize it. Like an old friend from across a crowded room. You smile and let yourself be drawn towards it.
This all sounds like a metaphorical digression, but trust me, it’s not.
Because Rebecca Leveille Guay can make a sexy fucking line. He lines and shapes move, they flow, they invite your eye to travel with them.
Full disclosure: I do not know this woman. We have never met. But I am in love with her through her art.
Rebecca is an alumnus of Pratt Institute in New York City, and got her start in the comics and trading card world. In truth, I had seen her work long before becoming a fan, as she worked on DC’s “Black Orchid“, which I devoured with fervor, just like anything else in the universe of Neil Gaiman’s Sandman during that time. She then went on to have a pretty successful career as an illustrator for RPG titles, collectable card games and children’s books. I missed this period, to be frank, as I was never in the collectable card game fandom, and hadn’t played RPG in years.
Somewhere around 2012, she shifted mostly to fine art, doing large scale pieces for gallery exhibition…although there is still a huge fan following of her earlier illustrative work.
And it was the fine art where her lines pulled my own eye back in. And I’ve been following her like a rabid fanboy ever since. You may not know this, but, that kind of makes her a superhero in the eyes of a certain demographic of artists from the 80s / 90s. We kind of all wanted to do “illustration” AND “fine art” and earn an amazing life at both. Most of us were forced to choose one or the other, or, like myself, head off into other fields entirely, while keeping our art as a precious thing we did on our own time.
So look over these images here, and fall in love with this artist and be inspired. And look at the sexiness of her line.
Look at that BLACK! And how it makes the swirls behind it pop even further. The curve of the line over the tops of the feet, the curls in the hair, the longing and desire in the upturned face of the lower woman and the motion of her clasping hands. I love this piece more than I have the verbal ability to explain.
This embrace, the subtle flow of the shapes around the hands… the anticipation of the kiss that hasn’t happened yet. The way the mermaid’s / naiad’s tail flows freely in the water behind her and how that flow is mirrored in the contours of the man’s skin…
The power and wisdom in the line choices AND the imagery. This is myth. This is reality. This is Atlas bearing the weight of the entire world on her back. But, this is also motherhood…a mother protecting her child, with the weight of the world and all it’s ills all around her, while her young one is safe and protected at her breast. Again…its the little things, the sexy lines. Look closely at the hands and feet, the motion of the hair. So much is being said.
Rebecca paints a sexy fucking line, composing visual symphonies that you cannot look away from.
She is an inspiration.
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