Dinosaurs 'R' Us

When the new campus of Emily Carr University of Art and Design opened last fall, its president proudly showed off its new media labs and robotic studios and blithely described the school's painting and sculpture programs as "living archaeology." 

I'm still deciding how much to be appalled.  But then -- everyone loves dinosaurs, don't they?   Yes, I do understand the difference between archaeology and paleontology.  Whatever.  In any case, painting and sculpture are not quite endangered species (not quite), and I'm pressing on regardless.

With a nod to the current generation, I'm continuing my formal art studies in an on-line format.  Yikes.  Uncharted territory.  But it's shaping up to be kind of fun.  It's a year-long course focusing on the portrait through Western Art history.  Each week there's a new video lesson taught by one of several talented instructors.  Then the members of the cyber-class do their own thing -- following the instructor's model or adapting the artist's style or doing anything we feel like doing -- and the output is posted in a private Facebook group.

As January draws to a close, we've raced through the Renaissance with lessons on Piero della Francesca, Caravaggio, Leonardo and Giovanni Bellini.  It's no surprise that the master works of this period have a religious theme, but I've found myself enchanted with some of the supporting characters in the predictable dramas.

Searching for an alternative to the first lesson's Piero Madonna, I was bowled over by the compelling self-assurance of this angel on the sidelines of a fresco called "Madonna del Parto" ("The Pregnant Madonna"):

Using prints I'd pulled from the internet, I set up my easel in a way that will probably become my norm...

 ...and produced a guardian spirit for my studio.  I didn't quite capture her/his mesmerizing gaze, but.......as we say in the Facebook group:  "I love love love this!"

 Week 2 presented a very loose and dynamic drawing approach to the dramatic contrasts of  lights and darks of the artist Caravaggio.  Some of my classmates did gorgeous things with the central Christ figure of "The Calling of Matthew"  but I chose another figure in the crowd.

I spent half the week on a rather satisfactory pencil version and worked away until I felt like I'd need the rest of my life to finish it.

I made one more splashy attempt with Conté crayon (a combination of wax/clay and charcoal) and then called it a wrap for the week.

And then -- a funny thing happened on the way to my next production.   I'd already decided that when we reached Leonardo, I would do something with my all-time favourite "Lady with an Ermine."

 And then....a cat crept into the picture.  A dear friend sent photos of her holiday spent with son and family, starring as always her Angel-Granddaughters.  How could I resist trying to put the younger teenager and the family cat into Leonardo's serene masterpiece?  Here it is, with apologies to all the dramatis personae, none of whom has been done justice.

One offshoot of this exercise was a renewed determination to keep working on hands.  And so as Bellini Week rolled around, I searched on the internet for something of his that would offer challenging hand models.  I found another compelling angel in his altarpiece of San Vincenzo Ferreri.  I cropped the image to a long vertical slice and printed this in giant size for my studio reference:

I then had the interesting experience of scaling up my smaller print-out to an unfamiliar vertical format...

for my grand finale:

Keep in mind that each of these assignments was done within a week in about six hours, not my typical twenty.  You can see a capsule of some of the developmental steps here. 

Whether or not my continued explorations will prove as exciting as excavating dinosaur bones or unearthing an ancient mosaic buried in volcanic dust, I'm reminded of a statement by the artist/teacher Donald McIntyre:

"Painting is ultimately a bit like mining.  You explore and explore; then it dries up and you keep on like an idiot hoping that something else will come along...Every now and then, you do a painting which is the start of something different in your life."

- Donald McIntyre, Acrylics Masterclass

And so I push back my sleeves and continue to work.