Finding Benton in Michelangelo

The Council Episode of the Battle of Cascina, painted by Bastiano da Sangallo after Michelangelo Buonarroti. A densely packed group of muscular male figures twist, gesture, and struggle in a dynamic battle scene derived from Michelangelo's lost Battle of Cascina cartoon.
Bastiano (Aristotle) da Sangallo (1481–1551), The Council Episode of the Battle of Cascina, after Michelangelo Buonarroti, 1542. This painting preserves part of Michelangelo’s lost composition for the unfinished Battle of Cascina
Thomas Hart Benton (1889–1975), Martha's Vineyard. Benton transformed the island landscape into a rhythmic composition of figures, movement, and place, reflecting his distinctive American Regionalist style.
Thomas Hart Benton (1889–1975), Martha’s Vineyard.

I was at the Raphael exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and I was not expecting much after being at the Vatican and in Rome and seeing so many of Raphael’s works in person. However, the show at the Met was a real eye-opener.

Not only did it present the history and the images, but it also showed Raphael’s education and the many works he studied and used as references for his own work. Specifically, I was enamored by his drawings. The drawings had real life.

What I realized is that as he tightened the renderings, the life gradually faded away. I know I am not in any position to critique Raphael’s work, but that was one of the most amazing things I took from the exhibition.

The other surprise was finding an image created by an artist copying Michelangelo’s work. When I saw it, it reminded me so much of Thomas Hart Benton: the energy, the rhythm, even the lighting and shading.

It revealed to me that Benton, too, must have been deeply drawn to Michelangelo’s frescoes and to the undulating, muscular compositions Michelangelo favored.

One of the things I enjoy most about museums is that you never know what is going to stay with you. I went to see Raphael. I left thinking about Michelangelo, Thomas Hart Benton, and the ways artists borrow from one another across generations. Sometimes the most memorable part of an exhibition is not what you came to see, but the unexpected connection you discover along the way.


“The drawings crackle with nervous energy, which gradually attenuates as Raphael translates spontaneous insights into the cool, lacquered surface of painting.”
Financial Times

That observation captured exactly what I felt walking through the exhibition.


Making Meaning

How do I map meaning before words arrive?

Abstract black-and-white drawing filled with symbolic marks, looping lines, geometric forms, arrows, and maze-like patterns exploring thought, language, and the process of making meaning.
Making Meaning — Opening a Sketchbook, 2026.

I think that’s it.

Finding my way in.

Then starting to move about the page. Finding another opening. Seeing a shift, a row, an arrow, a direction. Then each line takes shape and organizes itself, much like this drawing was created.

That’s how my brain functions.
That’s how I find meaning.

I’ve always seen relationships first — patterns, structures, connections between things.

This drawing feels connected to that.

It’s built on patterns, and the patterns shift from one system to another — repeating, evolving, reorganizing themselves across the page. In some ways, it reminds me of my Words I Cannot Read series on ArtChangesLives(Dot)Com — fragmented letterforms and systems that almost make sense, carrying meaning even before I fully understand them.

Eventually, the structure loosens, and at the top a small figure appears, waving, greeting, almost as if it has emerged from the system itself.

For me, these drawings are not illustrations after thought.

They are part of the thinking.


 

Welcome to 2026

Being in the Now—
Even on a Scrap of Paper

A fun little line drawing filled with playful figures, floating shapes, and childlike celebration, capturing a sense of being present and in the moment.
A Place to Go While Staying Home—Bill Hendricks/Shadowmason

I’m starting the year with this little drawing simply because it makes me smile. I like the strange little world that showed up here — a figure with its arms thrown up like, “Okay, universe, let’s celebrate,” a Ferris-wheel-looking thing, balloons, suns, and those chunky little bug-stick people bobbing around, just enjoying and being present.

Nothing in this really makes sense, but it feels playful and relaxed. I love the variation in the lines and how loose it is. It’s not careful or perfect — it just… happened, while I let my hand wander. In its own quirky way, that feels like “living in the now”: not overthinking, not polishing, just letting something exist because it wants to.

I’m guessing that’s a pretty good way to walk into 2026.

“the Tate has a great resource on what play can mean in art”

One Sketch; Two Paths

No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river and he’s not the same man.

Heraclitus

One Sketch; Two Paths was an exploration using two different approaches and two different media, as Bill Hendricks worked on them simultaneously.
One Sketch; Two Paths

Doodling Vs Drawing

Doodling is to the [artist] what stream-of-consciousness is to the writer.

~Alvalyn Lundgren, Alvalyn Studio

Doodle or Art?

Ink drawing by Bill Hendricks, all work copyrighted.
Creation, 2020—pen,  Bill Hendricks©2020

Great question!

It has both the aspects that Alvalyn Lundgren’s article describes. It had no real purpose. It doesn’t need to depict anything like a person. There was no pressure to perform, but it is meaningful, and a drawing that does communicate.  Not sure how well or not. It is merely a series of marks. They are playful, geometric, linear, shaded, or whatever. It is a question I am interested in considering. 

I will go with automatic drawing with thoughtful consideration. Thus, art.