Heads must roll

When I did a recent glean of sketches from my life drawing sessions, I was pleased to salvage some rather nice head studies I'd achieved.  One of my virtual teachers (as I call those whose books I've learned from), Mary Beth McKenzie  wrote: "You must constantly challenge yourself.  Set ambitious goals and push your limits."

So I decided I'd try assembling four of them for a friendly coffee meet-up -- bodies included.

  

 

For several days, I was pretty pumped as I went downstairs to the studio each morning -- thinking that this foursome might really hit it off together.  As I pressed on, though, things started to get a little weird.

This image doesn't begin to describe how every stroke I made seemed to be the wrong one.  What to do???  Consult another virtual teacher -- wonderful BC artist Robert Genn (1936-2014), whose artist daughter Sara carries on with his  biweekly "Painter's Keys" newsletters.  It happened I'd recently read a post that she'd republished from her father's archives on a learning experience he called "The 37 Club."

The objective? Push yourself to do a painting with only 37 strokes of the brush.  OR, do a painting in 37 minutes.  OR, do 37 paintings in a day.  Whatever.

Okay.  Why not?  I could devote 37 strokes to each face.   And I did that.  Four faces x 37 + an extra 37 for the times I lost count x 2 cycles through the four faces.  Any way you add it up, it was not a magic answer.

 The spacey blonde looked more spacey than ever.

The successful drawing that I'd tried once before to transform into a painting continued to elude me.

The right-hand figure, although looking a little more congenial for a coffee companion, was hopelessly muddled in strokes of paint, pastel, and water-soluble crayon.

And the once-promising female on the left was clearly no Vermeer.

Help!  What to do, Virtual Teachers?   Richard Schmid replied immediately with this stern admonition:  "Never leave a mistake on the canvas."  In fact, this mistake was so pervasive........it was time for it to hit the cutting room floor.  For that matter, I've discovered that there's a whole world of possibilities in painting faces ON the floor -- check out "The Face on the Barroom Floor."

Things are getting surreal

This funny winter, with its record-breaking precipitation, has made me a little unfocussed -- not quite ready to try to break my personal "best yet" record.  That doesn't mean that I've been idle; in fact, I seized on another two bus-riders (favourite subjects for surveillance) and have been helping them bring home their great finds from the local farmers' market.

Our trip began in November when two young women climbed on the bus, one of them verging on ecstasy with the fair-sized white pumpkin she'd found  to match her white hair and contrast with the black coats that she and her white-haired sister wore.  I tried a memory drawing when I reached home:--

The two of them sat on the sidelines as I finished up my 2019 paintings and occasionally played around with a composition.  How's this for surreal?

After a bit, I was ready to start putting paint to paper:

Having spent time with Raphael Soyer's marvellous self -portrait, I was thoroughly disenchanted with the direction these faces seemed to be going.  At one point, I even painted one of them on a 4" x 4" canvas and tried it on for size.

At this point, I faced the decision:-- to finish or to paint over?  For better or worse, I decided I'd see it through and see what happened.  Here's the final version, "Heading Home from the Farmers' Market" (copyright 2020).

Well.  Is this any better than "Dressed for Winter," a similarly inspired painting I did in March 2019? --

The verdict is out.  But this latest painting does at least meet my personal criteria of being Weird and Wonderful -- that surrealist thread that snagged me, courtesy of deChirico.   Also, I've shared with you my sighting of the contented young white-haired woman with her oh-so-cherished white pumpkin. 

Artist David Hockney wrote: 

"What an artist is trying to do for people is bring them closer to something, because of course art is about sharing. You wouldn't be an artist unless you wanted to share an experience, a thought."

I have mixed feelings about Hockney.  Some of his stuff I like, but you have to wonder: Is his frequently reproduced "Pool With Two Figures" really worth the $90.3M paid at auction in 2018?

In any case, looking for a Hockney link, I found reference to his book "Secret Knowledge:  Rediscovering the Lost Techniques of the Old Masters."  Our library has a copy, and it's apparently controversial -- so that should be weird and wonderful indeed.  Surreal, even.