There is something about the drawings of sculptors that makes them outstanding.

They have a confidence and a sense of purpose that commands respect.

Instead of revelling in a line or chiaroscuro for its own sake, they tend to be made as a means to an end — an initial exploration of an idea that will later be realised in three dimensions.

Sometimes of course they offer a welcome respite from the hammering and chiselling — Henry Moore’s ballpoint drawings of sheep being a prime example — but generally, they are imbued with a sense of having been made not so much to describe as to explore.

Examples near our own front doors include Peterson Kamwathi (whom I continue to think of primarily as a sculptor, temporarily waylaid by the joy of drawing) and Irene Wanjiru with her dynamic frottage works with crayon and pencil on scraps of paper. I have seen only rough sketches by Kevin Oduor and Gakunju Kagwa but they shared that energy.

Another excellent example is Chelenge Van Rampelberg, who has been a force on the regional art scene for nearly 30 years, since her first exhibition, in 1985.

A force, but one who exerts her influence quietly, by example rather than polemic. And she works slowly too. A lot of her carvings were taken recently by the Sankara Hotel at Westlands, which, like other leading hotels in Nairobi (the Serena, the Norfolk and the Tribe, should you wonder) is doing so much to promote the arts, even if only incidentally through finely judged purchases for its floors and walls.

Chelenge’s reticence has worked to our advantage in her current exhibition at the One Off gallery at Rosslyn, to the west of the capital, because it contains a body of woodcuts and sculptures dating back to 2006. It has had time to accumulate.

There is plenty to see — some 12 sculptures and 30 or so cuts – giving a fair range of her work, if not her style, which remains constant.

In her sculptures, the shapes tend to follow the forms of the branches she carves. Thus one shoot becomes an elephant’s trunk or a person’s arm, as the artist realises her vision while respecting the integrity of the source material.

It is an approach steeped in African tradition — and East African tradition at that. Whereas sculptors from most of the continent take a piece of wood and carve it into an object for religious or practical use — a mask, figure, fetish or, say, a stool — irrespective of its original shape, traditional sculptors from East Africa sometimes let the form of the branch dictate the form of the finished object.

One example is the Nyamwezi of Tanzania and the prestige works they have produced for their chieftains. Another is much further north, among the Dinka of Sudan, who conserve small branches from the central trunk so they become the feet of stools and headrests.

It is an interesting, organic approach to modern secular works, like Chelenge’s, although in my view it can — and does — lead to some fairly convoluted shapes. I tend to admire simplicity and clean forms in sculpture and while I respect the skill in Chelenge’s work, it does not always touch my heart.

An exception was The Fourth Sister, a towering piece in palm wood that reflected the artist’s Nandi culture. It referred to the legend of the sister who chose a husband from many suitors and became an emblem of peace and harmony. Like the woman it represents, the carving was strong and elegant.

Indoors, there were a couple of heads cast in aluminium but I did not care for them. I thought them facile. Aluminium is such a tricky material. It appears lightweight and trivial, lacking the gravitas of wood, stone and bronze.

What for me were the revelations of this exhibition were the woodcuts. Large — 126cm x 126cm was typical — they were simply too big to print from (no press of that size, no suitable paper either) and so the carved wooden blocks, coloured with printers’ inks, applied with a roller, were shown in their own right, rather than as the tools from which art would be made.

And why not? Each became an edition of one; an original work of art.

This acceptance of the picture plane as a playground rather than a matrix for another art form — the print — gave the artist freedom to treat the wood as bas-relief carving… which suited Chelenge to the extent that for me these woodcut blocks were the point of the show.

Paul Gauguin with his solidly planted figures from his South Seas idyll became my European reference point for these cuts (we all need something to hang on to) and the subject matter of lovers, young women and families at play was his as well.

These were fabulous works; full of energy and character and sympathetically drawn with a deliberate, clean line. The use of the knife demands a bit of forethought — no flashy chance-taking is allowed or even possible — and the result was magisterial.

And then, suddenly, the artist took us into another dimension; one in which a series of around 10 cuts showed gorillas at play, gambolling around and interacting, David Attenborough style, with humans.

From the South Seas it became a quintessentially East African idyll.

These pictures of animals known for their immense strength yet also their endless patience and quiet, introspective souls stand as a testament to the possibilities of a more peaceful and kinder world.

Frank Whalley runs Lenga Juu, a fine arts and media consultancy based in Nairobi.