Why I Don’t Chase “Buttery” Materials

SETUP, AND WORKING PRACTICE | MATERIALS AS DECISION-MAKING TOOLS, NOT JUST SUPPLIES

There is a particular kind of language that surrounds art materials. Words like buttery, creamy, luxurious appear again and again, as if ease of movement were the primary indicator of quality. The implication is subtle but persistent: if a material feels good immediately, it must be better.

I don’t work that way.

This isn’t a rejection of soft materials outright. I use them, and I value them. But I don’t chase them. I don’t build my process around immediate gratification, because I’ve learned how quickly softness turns from ally to distraction.

Softness is tempting precisely because it removes resistance.

When a pastel glides effortlessly across the surface, it’s easy to keep going. Marks layer on marks. Transitions blur automatically. The drawing begins to look finished long before it actually is. That early sense of success can be deeply misleading.

Friction prevents that illusion.

Materials with resistance slow the hand down enough to force evaluation. You notice whether the value actually belongs where you’re placing it. You feel when pressure increases unnecessarily. You become aware of your own habits instead of being carried along by them.

Soft materials don’t demand that awareness. They accommodate almost everything.

This accommodation can feel supportive, especially for beginners. It can also teach poor habits that are difficult to unlearn later. When a material hides indecision, the artist never has to confront it. The drawing becomes smooth, but not necessarily accurate.

Control requires friction.

When a pastel pushes back slightly, it introduces a pause between intention and action. That pause is where judgement lives. It’s where you decide whether a stroke adds information or merely adds activity. Without that pause, the drawing fills up quickly but says very little.

In animal portraiture, this distinction is critical.

Fur, feathers, and scales are easy to overdescribe. Soft materials make it effortless to keep layering texture until form disappears. Friction interrupts that tendency. It makes you earn softness through structure rather than apply it as a default.

I often see drawings that are technically smooth but visually confused. Everything is blended. Nothing is prioritised. The viewer’s eye has nowhere to rest. That isn’t a failure of talent. It’s a failure of resistance.

Friction also teaches restraint physically.

When a material doesn’t respond well to heavy pressure, you learn to lighten your hand. You stop gripping tightly. You stop forcing transitions. Over time, your movements become more economical. You do less, but what you do carries more weight.

This has practical consequences beyond aesthetics.

A lighter hand preserves surface integrity. It keeps layers open for later work. It reduces fatigue and strain. It makes long sessions possible without escalating tension. Soft materials often encourage pressing harder without realising it, which leads to overworking and exhaustion.

I don’t avoid buttery materials because they’re bad.

I avoid chasing them because they arrive too early in many people’s process. When softness becomes the starting point rather than the reward for good structure, it undermines learning. It replaces observation with sensation.

Softness should be a response, not a shortcut.

Once a drawing has a solid foundation, soft materials can deepen atmosphere, unify surfaces, and add richness that hard tools cannot. At that stage, softness enhances rather than obscures. But without friction early on, softness often compensates for unresolved problems instead of building on resolved ones.

The priority, for me, is always control.

Not rigid control. Not micromanagement. But clarity of decision-making. Tools that offer resistance help maintain that clarity when the drawing is still vulnerable.

The teaching takeaway here is simple: friction teaches restraint.

Materials that don’t instantly comply force you to see more, decide more carefully, and stop sooner. They build habits that carry through every stage of a drawing, even when softer tools eventually come into play.

I don’t chase buttery materials because I don’t want ease before understanding.

I want understanding first.

Softness can come later, once the drawing has earned it.