Who cannot be fascinated by trompe l'oeil? (And who can actually pronounce it? In our family, it's only JT). I've seen pictures of restaurant murals that appear to be real French doors, opening onto a Provence patio with lavender fields beyond -- and known that the kind of precision needed to produce this exactitude is not my thing.
But recently I've made an overdue acquaintance with Zeuxis, the ancient Greek artist whose painting of grapes was so realistic that birds zoomed in for a taste. And because summer camp is all about doing things spontaneously, I decided to fool around.
I planned to imaginatively insert a window above my studio door and place some empty glassware on its sill. I made some preliminary drawings to plan the size and to get an idea of the reflections.
I knew that for realism's sake, I'd need to make templates next, with
each object carefully structured on a vertical midline.
By the time I started placing shapes in the "window" I had solidly reaffirmed my belief that trompe l'oeil is not my thing. Way too much fiddliness is required to square things up.
Here's the finished piece, which is not going to fool anyone, birds or humans.
My sidewalk superintendant observes that the effect might be somewhat more convincing if the window were placed...well, where a window might actually be. Another plausibility factor, I'd say, is that the surrounding wall needs to be much darker than the light of the "sky." I'm not about to repaint the studio...though it might do wonders for the plaster wall of our 95-year-old house.
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