When I began my daily Morning Practice drawings, I had three goals: improve my drawing skills, develop a better understanding of values (the lights and darks in a scene), and ultimately become a better plein air painter.

What I didn’t anticipate was how much those little drawings would change the way I see.

Working with Copic grayscale markers was a real lightbulb moment for me. Suddenly, I wasn’t distracted by color. I was learning to recognize shapes, relationships, and the patterns of light and dark that give a scene its structure. Reducing a complicated landscape to just four values forced me to make decisions about what was important — and what wasn’t.

Over time, something unexpected happened. The drawings began to take on a life of their own. What started as an exercise to improve my painting became a body of work in its own right. These little drawings weren’t simply studies anymore. They could stand on their own.

But today, while plein air painting at Rancho Camulos, I was reminded of why I started this practice in the first place.

Before picking up my palette knives, I made a small grayscale drawing of the scene. It wasn’t nearly as detailed as my usual Morning Practice drawings. It didn’t need to be. Its purpose was to help me understand what had attracted me to the scene and how I wanted to interpret it.

And I kept coming back to it.

As I painted, whenever I found myself questioning a value, getting distracted by color, or losing sight of my original intention, I looked at that little drawing clipped beside my easel.

It brought me back to what mattered.

Now, couldn’t I have just taken a photograph and referred to that?

Possibly. But there’s something important that happens when you draw.

You’re not simply recording what’s in front of you. You’re making decisions. You’re solving problems. You’re interpreting.

For example, I decided to lower the palm tree in my composition. In the actual scene, much of its crown was outside my picture area. By working through the composition in my drawing first, I could make that adjustment before touching the painting.

And perhaps just as importantly, I’d already spent time studying the scene. The relationships, shapes, and values were familiar. When I began painting, there was already a kind of muscle memory at work.

The drawing had helped me figure out not just what I was looking at, but what I wanted to say about it.

Over the past several months, I’ve heard so many people say, “I need to do that!” or “I really should start drawing.” And one of the questions I hear most often is, “What do you use, Chris?”

Well, now you have the chance to find out — and try it yourself!

I’m offering The Art of Looking: Drawing & Values, a hands-on workshop where we’ll explore how to simplify what we see, recognize values, and turn observation into a drawing.

You don’t need drawing experience (I have tools I’m going to show you to help!) And if you’re already a painter, you may discover a new way to approach your work.

Best of all, all the supplies are included — and they’re yours to keep. You’ll leave with the same kinds of tools I use in my own practice, along with the experience to continue exploring on your own.

Because sometimes, learning to see a little differently can change everything.

The Art of Looking: Drawing & Values

Workshop details and registration: christinebeirne.com

Use code LOOK10 for a special discount through Sunday, November 8.