Life Drawing Nov 27, 2012

Complex, high pressure day at work, which left me satisfied, followed by a drive in the rainy dark down a country road to Life Drawing.  Haven't been able to make it in over a month.  Got there early and had time to walk up the dark gravel road in the drizzel and then to help set up.  Finally, I sat and unwound before the model arrived.

This model is becoming my favorite to draw.  Her poses are beautiful in a natural and spontaneous way, she holds them quite still, and she has the proportions the Classical Greeks sought at the height of their sculpting powers.  Long hips and proud powerful lines.  I never feel I do her justice, and I never tire of the attempt.

The warm up sketches were meh (none shared here) - but from the first long pose, the 25 minute one above, I found a way to say what I wanted with the Conte crayons and the brown craft paper.  These are 18 x 24, and are not cropped.  I sense bones under those lines - that's what makes it work.

This second drawing I include not because I'm pleased with it, but because it shows a more fresh and successful right brain approach for her lower half and a fussy left brain unsuccessful approach on her upper half.  I was on the right for about 5 minutes, and got stuck on the left for the remaining 20.

I tend not to attempt faces unless I'm prepared to do the work needed to capture a good likeness.  I keep intending to achieve some speed and confidence at home on photos, with a timer (maybe use a pose app I know of online), in order to develop a method, but I never get around to it.

This last is not entirely successful either, in my mind, but I can see where I might go with the white.  The best things about this were done in mere seconds, with confident strokes.  That's how I want it ALL to be.

I enjoyed evey minute tonight.  And I picked up six egg rolls (three kinds) at a favorite Chinese place on the way home and split them with Oldest.



Click images for larger views.  I would love to know what you think.

Olmstead's Voice

As we rose from the French Broad River toward the Vanderbilt chateau, I fell gradually behind, lost in the trees.  The strong quiet voice of Frederick Law Olmstead slowed my steps.  He had choreographed trunks and branches into a dance which sang to me as I walked through it, and as the sun passed over it, draping shadows on the grass.  Though the individual trees have grown up in unpredictable ways, as dancers' cannot erase the breathtaking differences in their bodies and movements, the placement of the trees was clearly the vision of a single spirit.  Through that vision, the landscape and the trees transcended the ordinary to become art.

Groups of younger trees nearer to the house remain ordinary.  It's not the age of the trees - I clearly sensed that the older trees would have sung the same Olmstead words, danced the same steps, when they were saplings.  The voice has deepened with the age of the oaks, but it's the placement and relationships which carry his voice, not the grandeur of the individual trees.  

Nor can film carry his voice.  I took dozens of photographs, and every one is empty and mute.  But I remember the feeling of a white dance as my daughter and others performed it last night - a dance similar to a pastoral landscape.  And I remember the movement and voice as I walked through Olmstead's landscape this morning.

Life Drawing Sept 11

My job change also means I'm in town more regularly.  So on Tuesdays I scurry from Cary to a Chinese restaurant in Chapel Hill, and then to "the schoolhouse" with several other artists who practice drawing from the live model.  There is a regular schedule of models, each with different styles of posing.

Tonight made three Tuesdays in a row, and some things were starting to click that haven't done so in a long time.  I can't get in the groove if I only go once a month (which was the best I was doing with my other job).

Usually I do better with the short poses and struggle on the longer ones.  Tonight I tried some different things with pencil and pastel on the longer poses and they have passages that work for me (and some that don't).  I'd be interested to know what works for you (or not).

Above is a 25 minute pose.  Below is a 5 minute pose, a 10 minute pose, and the two other 25 minute poses.  All pastel or pastel and pencil.  Click on the images for closer views.

What Do I Want to Paint

I read a timely blog post today.  In fact, since I took a new job almost two months ago, making a leap of faith, a striking number of things have been timely.  Maybe because I'm looking for them, or because I find myself in complex, difficult waters and feeling lost much of the time so everything looks like a sign.

The post is on Tiny Buddha - a rich source of everyday wisdom, the kind that is deceptively simple and therefore deeply helpful.

http://tinybuddha.com/blog/tiny-steps-to-overcome-the-fear-of-judgment/

When I took the new job I decided my motto would be one that runs against my nature, in some ways, and in line with it in others.  I took Rikki Tikki Tavi's family motto, "Run and find out."  The curiosity is easy; getting out and into other people's business is not.

I am at my best when I am self forgetful, letting the work and the facts and (mostly) other people be what's important, without much concern for the opinions of others.  Trusting (again, forgetful might be the best word) that my responses will be right because I was raised that way.  Doing what seems right and trusting others to understand or (better) to join in.

But when I'm stressed, and feel the stress of others, it's easy for me to turn and concentrate on my fears, or on my doubts, or on the feelings of dissatisfaction I imagine in others.  I hear their frustration or disagreement and take it as a judgement on me.  This is misplaced, but it's an old bad habit, and easy to fall into when I'm tired or out of balance.

It's like a rapidly turning machine that starts to oscillate when the center gets out of adjustment.  It's surprising how quickly the problem gets worse, as balance is lost.  And if you throw something heavy into this situation, the results can be destructive.

The trick is to slow down, recover the center (purpose and the perspective that it's not about me, it's about others and the work to be done), and restore the balance.  Then speed back up.

When the center holds, I can enjoy the newness, the uncertainty, the opportunity to learn and to do new things, and even the feeling of being lost.  It can be boring, always knowing where you are.  As a teenager I recall being frustrated and feeling inadequate if I could not identify every tree and wildflower around me.  Now I am delighted when I find a tree or plant I have never seen before (I saw two today, in fact).  I deliberately drive out into the countryside or wander off into cities without plan or map in order to get lost and have the surprise and delight of finding my way without knowledge (I did this last week in Chicago and ended up eating terrific pizza overlooking Ontario St and meeting some great Navy officers).

I'm getting it wrong when I start worrying about whether I'm getting it right.

Which brings me back to the title of this post.  My new job looms large in my mind nearly all the time right now - partly because the challenge is the infinite kind, where this is no limit to how much you can accomplish, and partly because it's still so very new.  But I have deeper challenges and older questions to answer which are in the same class.  The one that still haunts me most is, "What do I want to paint"?  I actually do think I've answered that, but I haven't begun.  And I haven't begun because I don't know how to begin.  And the new job and the Tiny Buddha post should make it obvious that my problem is I'm still concentrating on getting it right, rather than on doing it.

When will I begin doing it?  The first moves will be clumsy and unsatisfying, I fear.  But how else can I get to the place I want to go?  And I suspect I might be wrong about the "unsatisfying" - I think it will probably feel great.  Fear of judgement (my own and others') is what holds me back.

And, as another wise art teacher told me over 30 years ago, "You need to get over that fear right now."  The irony of that sentence didn't strike me until I reread it.

But "right now" is still available.  And the question has shifted; it's not "What do I want to paint?" but instead, "When am I going to start?"  I'm the only thing in the way.

(The image above is a painting I did several years ago that borders on where I'm going.  I think of this as a self portrait, where I am both birds.  I'm doing well when I'm the gleeful bird in front.  I'm doing badly when I'm the second-guessing, fearful bird in the rear.)

Playing with Food - Encore et Encore...

Oui, oui, it is summer.  The flies are fat and delicieux.  The other grenouilles of Caroline screeeee et pop et crique in the dusk.  It is a busy time.  Etienne once again has received vegetables for play and food from the farm of Deux Poussins.  These mesdames agricoles save fruits and vegetables with bizarre shapes for Etienne, and he images them as something else.

Last week they gave him a pomme de terre - a potato (a word très drôle, and which the wide mouth refuses to pronounce as Etienne does, to his amusement).  It was a potato très drôle, aussi.  But Etienne had to fly away before he could dream over it.  (He says he flies in an "air bus" but I will sooner see Etienne sprouting wings like a dragonfly, et voila, buzzing away in the dawn.  Flying is for insects, birds, bats, et la repartie.)  "Anyway," as les enfants say in the cul de sac, no painting, no play.  Last week Etienne was the "dull boy" in the story about Jacques and all work.

This week there was a tomato (encore, the wide mouth must stretch and make kissy O's to say this in the way américain).  Potato - tomato.  Bien.  The one imaged the other. 

Once home, Etienne set the tomato on it's ear (or head or derrière - I do not understand the anatomie of fruit), and voila, it was something else and the pomme de terre was transformed.  Chat et chien.

So Etienne made both dreams.  First les animaux (le chien will regret pushing the nose into the kingdom du chat), then the kiss ancient, which he pictured in a flash at the market when the tomato was first presented.  Clicque on the images for the better view.

The final image is a peek of La Royaume Pacifique, the "Peaceable Kingdom" on the bureau of Etienne.  Oui, I lived in that place for years when, tout à coup, I was whisked to the artiste colony of the kingdom where I live now with trilobite, baleine, large acorns of "burr-oak," and le poulet de verre vert.

Et voila, il est à la fin.  Au revoir,

Grenouille

Playing with My Food - 2012 Number 1

Two Chicks Farm has a regular spot in our local farmer's market, and a regular spot in our Saturday schedule, as we pick up greens, peppers, potatoes, carrots, chard, etc. The two chicks have been passing me the occasional unusual vegetable to inspire posts called "Playing with my Food."  The first one for the 2012 growing season was what I called a Siamese Cucumber.  I thought of several things as I pondered the unusual shape of the double cuke.

I decided to make a maquette, a paper puppet.  This is actually my second (the first will be the subject of a post when it's fully assembled)- inspired by a post by Clive Hicks-Jenkins, who created a five part blog post series showcasing entries by various "maquetteers."

So here is my green clawed crab - modeled on the ghost crabs which frequent our NC beaches.  It's about a foot wide, in this view - watercolor and light fast Prismacolor markers on scraps of Arches hot press paper.

Below is an "exploded" view of the maquette.  If actually assembled, there would be paper fasteners at all the joints, so the crab could be moved like a paper puppet.

Thanks to the ladies for the interesting produce.  After playing comes eating...

Previous food play:  One,  Two,  Three

Life Drawing - It's Been Too Long

I've had small opportunity to get to the Tuesday life drawing sessions in the last four months.  The result is that I got quite rusty.  Last week I got to go, and this week, as well; the first time I've had two weeks in a row in a long time.  Last week I had not one drawing I would show anyone.  This week I had a few good moments, and caught myself smiling at the beauty of the light on the model, and the classical shape of her tall hips.  The images that follow are two ten minute poses, the first done on gray charcoal paper with dark gray and warm white Nupastel, the second with red Prismacolor.  The last image was a 40 minute pose, and the drawing is about twice the size of the others (about 24 x 30) and combines the red pencil and the pastel.

I found myself feeling that Bouguereau would have enjoyed painting her - I was reminded of the piece below, of a young woman holding love at bay.  It's in Raleigh, at the North Carolina Museum of Art.