Chasing Likeness Using the Bargue Method
Drawing came into my life much later, primarily as an extension of my meditation practice. Looking inward naturally evolved into looking outward through art. I chose to take some classes at a professional artists’ atelier so I could learn how to see through the traditional Bargue method of copying images and drawing from life. It was after my third drawing in the course when I decided to test if what I was learning there could really be put into practice without anyone’s guidance.
The Bargue Method, based on the teaching model developed by Charles Bargue, was widely used in the French Academy in the 19th and early-20th centuries. It centres around students copying instructional plates developed by the artist to improve observational skills and learn to deconstruct complex visual information.
The Reference & Why

I chose a photograph of my mother, Shirin, an image that had journeyed with me through the odyssey of my nomadic 20s. This photo was a lifeline to the world I had left behind in the UK as I wandered through India, sleeping on beaches, roadsides, and even once in the back of a taxi, seeking inner peace, at times facing hunger and homelessness. Mum’s subtle Mona Lisa smile in this photo had always brought me a deep sense of calm and reassurance. Her elusive gaze, meeting mine directly, exuded an expression of quiet wisdom, while her elegant posture embodied timeless beauty.
This old reference image from the 50s lacked fine detail. I decided that capturing her likeness would be enough to consider the job complete. And then out of nowhere came the nervousness. This was an image I had cherished and seen countless times. Creating a distorted version would undermine my confidence in my skills and also feel like failure to properly honour my mother. To make matters even more daunting, I had decided to work right in the heart of the atelier’s main hall. Everyone passing by could observe every stage of the drawing’s progress!
Materials & Set Up
I arranged my materials as I had for my previous drawings done with the Bargue method. Placing the reference photo and the paper, both A4 in size, side by side. (I used Arches Watercolour hot pressed paper). This setup allowed me to compare proportions, values, shapes and angles by shifting my gaze back and forth. This technique is known as the animation test, the idea being that by doing this any difference would jump out and become immediately apparent. Pencil was Staedler Lumograph 2B and I used a malleable putty eraser.
First Measurement & Marks
I started with marking the top of her head and the bottom of her chin. I used earphone wire for measurement. Typically atelier students use knitting needles, which, like bent pool cues, always made me question their accuracy. The earphone wire was easier to hold straight between my hands, more visible, and could be conveniently stored in my pocket when not in use.
I would have a fixed point around 5 feet away from the easel from where I would conduct this measurement. The wire helped mark key horizontal points of the head and shoulders by stretching it across the reference and drawing paper. A fish bell sinker weight on the wire served as a plumb line for vertical relationships. My goal was to establish a precise scaffolding of critical points, meticulously measuring and re-measuring to ensure accuracy. I devoted extensive time to this stage, aiming to create a solid foundation for the rest of the drawing.
From previous failures, I learned that rushing through these stages could lead to significant time loss, so I trained myself to be patient. My goal was to apply and test every technique I had learned in my Bargue drawing classes, ensuring that I didn’t skip any steps.
Check & Re-check
Every time I made a mark, I would step back and assess its accuracy, a practice that proved to be a major time-saver. During this stage, I relied primarily on the wire and the animation test, comparing side by side to “spot the difference.” If I noticed a mistake, I wouldn’t immediately erase it. Instead, I would recheck the area, place a new, more accurate mark, verify its correctness, and only then erase the earlier incorrect mark. This method, a crucial tip from my teachers, prevented the inclination to repeat the same error. I attributed this tendency to muscle memory, which, while useful, can also lead to recurring mistakes if not carefully managed.
Two Types of Triangulation
One of the most effective techniques I employed for checking accuracy was triangulation, measuring three points to guarantee precision. This required recognising the correct degree of angles. Here the horizontal wire, animation test and plumb line helped. Another method to check angles is the clock hand method which I don’t use so much myself. I found that using my pencil to check angles, as an additional step, was personally more effective.
After achieving a satisfactory shape for the head, a crucial foundation for the entire drawing, I proceeded to mark the corners of the eyes, the bottom of the nose, and the various points of the mouth. I considered this triangular structure (eyes, nose, mouth) vital for capturing an accurate likeness, so I dedicated significant time to repeatedly checking and rechecking these measurements.
Overcoming Challenges

This article isn’t intended to detail every step of creating a finished drawing, so I’ll skip ahead to the point where I encountered difficulties. When I began defining the shapes of the eyes, nose, and mouth, I found myself caught in an endless cycle of corrections. At times, the corner of the mouth seemed too wide, and then the eyes appeared too small. Despite constant comparisons, I felt as though I was uncovering new discrepancies each time. The frustration became so intense that I nearly damaged the paper with excessive erasing.
I was on the verge of giving up—portrait drawing felt too challenging, painful, and frustrating. I even considered tearing the paper apart. It was at this critical juncture that I decided to take a break. Looking back, I believe this moment of pause was one of the most crucial in the entire process.
Mindset
The human tendency to rush toward results can make us goal-oriented and efficient, but it often compromises quality and excellence. Conversely, obsessing over perfection can be equally detrimental, hampering progress with unnecessary delays and preventing us from appreciating a task well done. The key is to find a balance between these two extremes.
Drawing, in particular, requires meticulous management of both attention and energy. We thrive on successes, which motivate us to continue, but if we only see failures, we risk becoming discouraged. This discouragement can lead us to abandon something that, with persistence, could turn into an immensely valuable skill, experience or project.
But I couldn’t summon this wisdom at that moment.
I felt like I was failing miserably, growing more uncertain with each mark about how to salvage the drawing. It seemed I was on the verge of a breakthrough, only to be set back so drastically by a single mistake that recovery felt impossible. At that point, I longed for an undo button.
Fortunately, an essential practice from my Bargue drawing sessions came to the rescue: taking breaks.
Breakthrough
Built into the atelier’s system, these breaks—five minutes every 20 to 30 minutes—had been crucial during my early Bargue drawings. I would step away from the station allowing my mind to disengage from the project. I employed the same mindfulness techniques that had guided me to art (or perhaps art to me), allowing worries and frustrations to pass naturally without resistance, clearing my mind in the process. When I returned, I felt refreshed, with renewed focus and a fresh perspective.
My focus and energy shifted from complaining, whining, and feeling disempowered to identifying the problem through the process of elimination and implementing a solution. I referred to this as being in an “active learning” state. I tried to stay in this mode as much as possible while working at the easel. It spared me a lot of heartache, headache, time, and drama.
Even with all the progress I had made in the drawing and my accumulated knowledge of techniques and experience, I felt that something essential was missing—something that would allow me to capture the likeness and advance to rendering and shading.
I felt the weight of the other students’ piercing gazes as they drifted by, each glance intensifying my sense of humiliation. My mind swirled with desperate excuses for wanting to abandon the drawing, plagued by the nagging doubt of whether this painful artistic path was truly meant for me.
As I neared the point of giving up and tearing up the drawing, suddenly an artist friend’s voice echoed in my mind. It was reminding me of a simple yet effective method for checking accuracy: turning the drawing upside down. As if a light bulb lit up right above my head. I immediately flipped the board, and, voilà, the mistakes instantly became glaringly obvious.
Why Oh Why This Happens To Me
Our minds can become accustomed to recognising familiar shapes, such as ears, eyes, and lips without needing to measure each feature accurately. Instead, we quickly perceive a simplified version that allows us to instantly recognise a face. This happens to everybody. This mental shortcut is a time-saver in everyday life, but it becomes a hindrance when drawing. In art, we need to meticulously place each feature in the correct position and size. This requires overriding this automatic recognition to enable manual, precise measurement mode.
A World Upside Down But There Is a Silver Lining

Turning the drawing upside down can prompt our minds to reassess familiar shapes. For example, what we might initially recognise as an ear could suddenly become just an ambiguous shape.
“Is this an ear?”, goes the mind. The auto-recognition system replies, “I thought it looked like an ear, but now I’m not so sure.” By failing to name it or recognise it as a familiar shape, the auto recognising system gives up and steps back. This frees our attention to check accuracy of the nameless shape with marks and points.
Additionally, this technique can be used alongside other methods. It’s similar to how we see faces in clouds. By identifying shapes in the reference image that resemble something familiar, we can then attempt to replicate that shape in our drawing. Then using the animation test to verify if our shape in the drawing matched the shape in the reference can ensure greater accuracy.
I continued sketching the drawing with it upside down, and after considerable effort, I finally turned it right side up. I was apprehensive, fearing I might have completely ruined it, even though everything seemed to be in its proper place when upside down. To my astonishment and delight, the accuracy was not only visible but also palpable.
Return of the Why
Achieving a likeness is often considered the holy grail in portraiture. Alongside this, is the notion of capturing the “essence” of a subject. But does capturing the essence arrive just by achieving likeness? Is it sufficient to place the lines and shapes accurately? Does the “soul” naturally emerge from that precision?
The answer is not that straightforward in my opinion and may need a case by case assessment. In this instance I realised that it started with me recognising what I loved about this particular picture of my mother. Her enigmatic expression which had to be translated through shapes and values on paper. Was it a smile? Was it a smirk? How could I capture the softness and warmth in her gaze?
I took a break for the day and returned to the drawing the next evening. During that time, I reflected on the thoughts, especially the negative ones, that had tried to deter me. I realised that these thoughts weren’t truly helpful and that I had managed to overcome them. This, I understood, was the real challenge in the world of drawing and art in general, managing these gremlin thoughts.
I recognised that I would likely face similar mental hurdles each time. So my focus turned to the strategies I had used. From techniques for checking accuracy to letting my thoughts run their course, taking breaks, and making light-hearted comments to my fellow students about the drawing if it didn’t work out. This approach helped me avoid seeing setbacks as embarrassing. Instead I viewed them as minor bumps in the road, allowing me to continue my art pursuit with renewed determination.
When I returned to the drawing the next evening, I realised I needed to adjust my approach once more. Shifting from mere visual accuracy of line, shape, and value to also assessing the drawing’s overall ‘feel’. I had to remind myself why I had chosen this image and why I was drawn to it.
It became a pursuit of extreme precision, but in a subtle, deliberate, and mindful manner, carefully managing frustration and avoiding large, hope-driven adjustments.
My task at this stage was clear. Each mark was to be scrutinised for its technical accuracy and for capturing that elusive expression. I knew that if I stopped at this point, the drawing would likely meet most people’s expectations. Yet, I sought something more for my own satisfaction.
With that enigmatic smile in mind, every millimetre became crucial. I worked methodically, making subtle adjustments to the lips and stepping back to examine each correction closely.
Taking breaks and returning with fresh eyes, I suddenly sensed that the elusive quality had finally been captured. I felt I could not add anything else to the drawing that could take it any closer to her likeness. Her expression in the drawing was now in conversation with me just as I had felt all my life.
I put my pencil down. A feeling of relief and deep gratitude washed over me.
The Reward

The entire process of drawing my Mum achieved something more. Despite having seen her face and this image throughout my life, it felt as though I had experienced a deeper, more profound communion with her. And this drawing felt like a fitting homage.
The reason I opted for an atelier over a traditional art school was straightforward. I wanted to master the art of seeing the world around me deeply through the skills of drawing. The atelier method equipped me with the essential tools and techniques I needed initially. I explored personal expression and abstraction at a later stage. This exercise of drawing my mother’s portrait reinforced my confidence that I was exactly where I needed to be.
As soon as the folks at the atelier caught wind that I was done, they flocked over with an avalanche of generous compliments. But honestly, the only opinion I was truly sweating was my mother’s. Known for her razor-sharp honesty, I braced myself for her “let’s bring you back down to earth” critique. To my surprise—and immense relief—she was genuinely impressed and gave her seal of approval.
Chasing likeness is no easy feat—it’s a challenging and relentless pursuit that demands not only technique but mindful practice. It requires a blend of perseverance and patience, honed through countless trials and errors. There’s simply no shortcut to mastering this skill.
The profound satisfaction from this experience was so fulfilling that I resolved to keep practising. I felt reassured that I was on the right path, and to this day, I hold a warm, comforting feeling in my heart knowing that my late mother cherished this drawing.
This is a captivating article that explores the journey of artistic discovery and the deep love for art. It highlights the evolution of creativity, the passion behind artistic expression, and how art serves as a powerful medium for storytelling and cultural reflection. A beautiful tribute to the enduring devotion that fuels the artistic spirit.
Thank you so much for the kind words. So glad it resonated with you 😊🙌🏻
Sarmed: I found your article quite inspirational.
You combine practical techniques with psychological considerations, and those intangible (almost spiritual) aspects that raise a portrait beyong a straightforward likeness. The portrait of your mum is luminous – what a lovely lady.
Thank you so much.
Thanks so much for your reply and kind words about Mum and the drawing. I am so happy that all these different elements came across 🙂
This has been very useful for me, thank you…. especially having breaks and moving away. Although I paint, my first love is sculpture and the tips you give are mostly transferable (turning the bust upside down is challenging but can be done with the right photo angles!) The portrait of your mother is beautiful and her soul shines out. 👍
Thanks Carol for the kind words! So glad the tips resonated. Using the mirror often helped when I did portraiture sculpture. Do you have a preferred method?
A wonderful article and lovely tribute to your Mother Sarmed, and a beautiful accomplished portrait of her. Congratulations on achieving this!
Thanks so much for taking tome to read and comment Chris. 🙏🏻💜