100 books like Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain

All my life I’ve loved looking closely at the natural world to see as much as possible: Why is that leaf broken? Was a chipmunk digging here? Is that a different kind of mushroom? But no matter how closely I looked, I was unaware of the overwhelming complexities and sophistication of the fungal world.

Sheldrake shows the interconnections, not metaphysical ones but actual physical and chemical connections, between fungi, plants, and even living, moving animals. If that chapter about ants doesn’t change how you see the world, I don’t know what will. Fungi own the world, and we are just lucky to live in it.

This book helped me stop thinking about singular problems and solutions and taught me to think in terms of relationships. 

I read it at a time when I believed the electric car to be a solution to oil dependence and the greenhouse effect. Electric cars do not directly produce CO2 and are more energy efficient. What I missed was the fact that cars are much more than oil-burning CO2-emitters. They limit our street life and kill more than a million people in traffic each year.

By solving one problem without looking at the big picture, we enlarge other problems and create new ones. Will cobalt wars follow after the oil wars? Reading this book felt like walking around with a flashlight in my head and then a construction lamp switching on.

In this 376-page drawing “bible”, all aspects of drawing are covered in great detail, from portraits and figure studies to still life and landscapes. After the first chapter on materials and equipment, Giovanni illustrates the bone structure, musculature, and features of the head, hands, and feet using pencil, ink, and charcoal. It’s the most comprehensive approach I’ve seen in any portrait book.

Further chapters on shadows, shading, composition, sketching, perspective, and aerial perspective are also extremely helpful. This book is a mine of information, and one I turn to when in need of technical know-how for portraiture.

I love sketching and encourage my students to do as much as possible to improve both drawing techniques and observation. In this comprehensive book, Peter guides us through many different aspects of sketching using pencil, pen, and pen & wash, demonstrating his S-E-T method, reminding us constantly to consider Shapes, Edges, and Tones. His drawings and pen and wash studies are a feast for the eyes; he guides the reader through simple step-by-step drawings as well as larger projects, and everything is conveyed in an easy-to-understand way, making it a pleasure to dip into this book.

This comprehensive guide to drawing landscapes includes six step-by-step as well as many examples of Margaret’s work. With her wonderful drawing ability she is able to create stunning landscapes, some with incredible detail, some much looser, maintaining compositional balance throughout. I recommend this book to the beginner and more experienced alike as I think it has something for everyone. For anyone who wants some guidance for drawing landscapes, this book will inspire whatever your level of ability.

Perspective is essential for good drawing but something that a lot of people find a struggle. Tim has treated every aspect of perspective in a simple and interesting way so that anyone can understand it. As well as buildings and landscapes, Tim also covers topics not so obvious - people, animals, boats and reflections, and more. He also shows how perspective applies to curved objects and inclined planes, and suggests how to correct common mistakes as well as moving on from rigid rules to a freer and more instinctive way of drawing. 

This little book from 1973 made me realize I wrongly believed that all technological advancement was progress. Why should it be? With every invention that promises to make life easier, ask this question, says Illich: "Will this make me a more independent, capable human being? Or will human qualities be made obsolete?"

In the Middle Ages, people built cathedrals without burning fuel. We have since lost this ability. Is that progress? Ivan Illich introduces the concept of radical monopolies: industrial processes that make non-industrial activities impossible. "Cars can [...] monopolize traffic [...] practically ruling out locomotion on foot or by bicycle in Los Angeles." Likewise, funeral systems rule out the possibility of burying a loved one ourselves.

Illich is a radical philosopher of thin books, best read slowly.

Until this book, I didn’t realize we live in a culture that applauds starting, growing, and flowering while turning a blind eye to ending, decaying, and dying.

Harald Welzer starts out by calculating how humans turn more living matter on Earth into dead matter each year. We don’t seem able to see that this is a sure way to stop living. Having survived a stroke, he asks the question: "What life do I want to have lived?" This is the framework of the book.

Along the way, he shares wonderful examples of (artistic) endeavors that attend to the ending–of a factory’s life, of insects killed by pesticides, of cathedrals that can only be built by accepting that some of them will crumble before they are finished.

This is a classic book by German-born psychologist Rudolf Arnheim, in which he lays out the principles underlying our perception and understanding of works of visual art.  One of the major principles discussed is the human tendency to see the simplest form possible in any visual array. This ‘simplicity principle’ is also used to explain the intelligence and inventiveness of children’s art. In a brilliant chapter called Growth, Arnheim shows us that children are not striving towards realism; rather they are trying to create the simplest possible recognizable structural equivalent for the object they are representing.  The inventiveness with which children reduce complex forms to simple structural equivalents requires far more intelligence than mindless copying.  

For me, thinking about blindness and the brain all started with an essay by Oliver Sacks called “To See and Not See” (An Anthropologist on Mars). In The Mind’s Eye Sacks picks up some of the threads of that earlier essay and goes deep into how seeing is not just a matter of having functioning eyes. From the pianist who could  suddenly no longer read music to blind people (like myself) who still consider themselves very visual, these neurological tales are intellectually intriguing and emotionally compelling. Sacks even includes his own journal of vision loss as one of the case studies. But whether he is the patient or the doctor, his distinct voice and personal connection to his subject matter has had a huge influence on my own writing.