I haven't struck gold yet

 

Inspired by the imagination and commitment of D, a young "creative" and ardent enthusiast of diggers and words, I've been paying close attention to construction sites.  (D's grandmother, in her witty accounts, tells me that at age 3, he's a seasoned site supervisor on every dig in their North Shore vicinity.)  

 

As I hope for a little more than the mud and clay of the old Tea Swamp not far from my place (photo above and also here) I'm reminded of the words of artist-author 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."

 

My own recent diggings are guided by my plan to answer a key question I've posed: -- Do my paintings work best in a linear style or a painterly style, or my own combination of both? (This link by the way is a wonderful brief synopsis of what the heck I'm talking about.)  My aim:  To do a series of paintings modelled on painters I admire who work in various mixes of linear/painterly styles -- and eventually draw some conclusions about my own style.  

 

You might have caught my first try, based on the flat linear style of painter Alex Katz – "The Jury is Out (Alex)".

  

 

For the second in the series, I reconnected with a painter whose works I *love*  -- Ferdinand Hodler.  I'd discovered this early 20^th c. Swiss artist a few years ago when I emulated his style with a painting which I based on a photograph of Richard Avedon.

 

This time, I viewed a lot of Hodler paintings on line, like these.  His "Portrait of Gertrude Muller" led me to a working hypothesis.

  

 

Many of his figure paintings are very linear and dynamically coloured, against a rather flat and plain background – one step beyond Alex Katz in terms of presenting a 3-dimensional impression on a 2-dimensional surface.  I did some preliminary planning and got started.

 

I smiled at my early stage, based on a sitting figure I photographed ...somewhere.

 

About halfway along, I realized I'd made a big mistake.  The eyes were just too low on the head.

 

 

There's a general guideline that helps with placement of features – and it's a halfway point itself.  Yes, of course, human faces vary -- but most show the middle of the eyes at about half the height of the head.

 

Groan.  There was only one thing to do. 

 

When the paint dried, I tried again and came closer.

 

 

As I worked towards the finish, I considered the title for this second piece in my "Jury is Out" series.  I've imagined art students waiting to learn the fate of their submitted portfolios, with their first names the same as the artists I'm imitating.  But here's the thing:-- I don't like the name Ferdinand.  I don't like the nicknames Fred, Freddie, Fredo.

 

But wait!  Here's a little known nickname for Ferdinand:-- "Nando."  Really!  But will he be confused with Nandi, the young prodigy?  What the heck – the guy in my painting looks a little preoccupied and needs a goofy nickname to cheer himself up.  Here he is in "The Jury is Out – Nando" (copyright 2021). 

 

 

I'm not entirely happy with this.  I could have done something much more exuberant along Hodler's lines -- like his gorgeous painting, "The Joyous Woman."

 

So as to whether you've seen the last of Hodler on this blog, I wouldn't place money on it.  (1911 Swiss 50-franc note with Hodler's "The Woodcutter")

 

The season to begin anew

 

 

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-20^th 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)