The structure is solid but there hasn't been much action. Now, though, in just the past two weeks, "green is beginning" – in the words of Pablo Neruda in one of my favourite of his poems.
Almost simultaneously, there's been a heartening development in my personal art world. The studio where I'd been doing life drawing until March 2020 re-opened in Zoom format after its pandemic-imposed shutdown. It didn't take me long to set up at home for the first session.
A year ago, I felt I was really beginning to catch on. My quick poses (1-, 2-, 5-minute) were pretty informative, and I was quite pleased with my drawings like these from 15- and 30-minute poses.
Now – well, I'm downright rusty…just barely making it with some sketchy short poses...
…making lots of false starts with the medium-length poses…
…and getting downright fed up with my fumblings through the longer poses.
Nonetheless – I'm happy to be back at it, and coincidentally as I begin anew, I've picked up a fascinating bit of complementary lore. I can't even remember how I came across this brief article on a mid-20th century Canadian woman (and her collatorators and successors) who, as a medical illustrator, changed the look of anatomy texts for medical education.
Quick! – to the catalog of the Vancouver Public Library, which almost never disappoints me. There I found several editions of what became a classic Canadian text, "Grant's Anatomy." I requested the oldest edition they had – 1991 – before the widespread use of computer-assisted design, thank goodness.
Don't ask me why but somehow the subtle colours and hand-lettering remind me of Maurice Sendak.
It happens that I have many marvelous anatomy books of my own, most of them birthday gifts from the mid-1980s (!!) when I was first becoming enthralled with the human figure.
They're written by artist-teachers for the purpose of art education and contain often stunning illustrations – skeletons, bones, muscles and, very usefully, "surface anatomy," the landmarks we see when we observe the figure, clothed or unclothed. (Quick cut to this week's "OOPs" moment in the Canadian House of Commons).
The following are from the books of Louise Gordon and Joseph Sheppard. (Gosh – these heroes of mine from the 1980s are lookin' kind of old and grey these days).
If I had learned everything in these books by now…….. Well, I haven't, but I know enough to get crackin' again. Along the way, I can enjoy browsing through "Grant's Anatomy" that, for medical students and professionals, dives deeper than artists need to know about nerves and veins and inner connections of muscles and such.
A new constant in my busy calendar of Zoom events will be twice-monthly sessions at the drawing studio. My brow might be furrowed as I work (from the forehead muscle that's actually called the "corrugator"), but I *love* the environment – three camera angles to choose from, including the overhead "skycam" that's totally fun and something that's impossible in the normal in-person sessions:
And if I don't soon get back to my 2020 level of confidence, I'll do backflips trying! (- from artist/teacher John Raynes)
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