When you're having a bad day

Sometimes small corners of one's life yield lessons that are widely applicable.   For what they're worth, here are some I'll share with you -- from a recent Bad Day at the drawing studio.

Lesson #1:  Don't take yourself too seriously.

 Lesson #2:  There's sure to be some good with the bad.

 Lesson #3:  Lighten up.

 Lesson #4:  Forget your serious objectives and just go out and play!

 Lesson #5:  Celebrate small successes.  Look at this lovely little hand!  (Hands are hard)

--- and look at this perfect little foot.  (Feet are hard)

Lesson #6:  Don't mope.

Lesson #7:  Be philosophical.  There's always another day.  And for god's sake, get there early the next time so that all the good drawing boards are not taken and you're working at a disadvantage from the start.

BOO !

Halloween might be over  by the time you read this, but masks are never out of style for the fabulous "Historical Dance Ensemble" that modelled for me in early October.  Well, they didn't know that;  it was incidental to what they were actually doing in their noon-time performance at The Dance Centre's "Discover Dance" series. 

The Ensemble performs Baroque dances (such as the ones shown here) in historic costumes, accompanied by a trio of musicians, also in authentic costumes and playing period instruments.  As I learned with this dance series last year, it's a challenge to do quick sketching of fast movements -- and in the darkened theatre.  The elaborate costumes, I knew, would add to the challenge.

I'd chosen a seat fairly close to the front and was practically looking over the musicians' shoulders.

From that vantage point,  I spotted a new marvel to behold:-- a fairly large stringed instrument with, wonder of wonders, a beautiful carving of a woman's head at the top of the instrument's neck.  I was -- and still am -- enthralled.

There's always a  Q&A session at the end of these performances, and I asked the musicians to introduce their instruments.  What a surprise -- my first sighting of a viola da gamba!!  Of course, I'd heard baroque music before and therefore heard viola da gambas (also known as "viols"), which I knew to be precursors of my forever favourite instrument, the cello -- but I'd never before seen one.

As the audience dispersed, I went up for a closer look and learned from the trio's leader that the carvings are a tradition -- she showed me their second viol with a tiny bird on top and said that lions' heads are also common. 

Back home on the internet, I found this stunning performance  by a lovely earnest young woman with an exquisitely carved viol.  I can't get these heads out of my head -- and I know it's not the last time I'll sketch (or paint?) them.

Two weeks later, keeping with my plan to do live sketching in alternate weeks, I was back at Basic Inquiry Studio for the first male model I've had there.  Guy models can usually be counted on for lots of bone and muscle (among other things).  This one did remarkable, almost acrobatic, poses -- best shown in the one-minute poses.

Five-minute poses:

 Ten-minute pose:

Thirty-minute pose:

It turned out that he himself is a dancer, which explains his facility and his physique.

As for me, I continue on my genteel way.  Watch this spot as I continue to kick up my heels.

The seasons change

  

 Early this year when my "Flash Mob Series" was just gathering steam, I resolved that when I completed ten paintings in the series, I would seek out an artist/teacher to give me a personal critique.  I didn't plan a timetable but, in the pattern of synchronicities and serendipities that the Mob has generated, I finished the tenth painting in September.

Now it happens that autumn, which I'll loosely define as August to October, has been a key season for me through my whole life.  Moves to new locations, starts of new jobs, major family events -- so many important things have happened to me at this time of year.

When I began this tenth painting with the title "Reset",  I hadn't foreseen that it might just foreshadow a reset in my artistic development.  But let's finish the painting and the series before I explain.

Like some of its predecessors -- "Lean In" and "A Conversation We Need to Have"  -- "Reset" derives its title from a trendy word/phrase that strikes me as rather silly.  The City of Vancouver, for example, last year "reset" its housing strategy.  Faced with the crisis of homelessness and lack of housing affordability, they didn't "retire" the  prevailing housing strategy; they didn't "replace" it; they didn't "revise" it.  They reset it. 

Okay -- on to the painting.  I assembled my figures in a circular motion that might indicate what had gone before, leading to ....whatever would come next.

 Well, one thing that had gone before was my challenge in working on a new and more absorbent paper -- so I spent a great deal of time dealing with missteps and making corrections.  Resetting, you might say.

 One maddening example was the leg and foot of the left-most figure.  It looked right in my original small sketch, made years ago at the swimming pool.  But something was lost when I scaled up and began to paint.

It was too short.  It was too long.  The knee went the wrong way.  The foot went the wrong way.  In the final painting, I think it's at last right.

For the (always sought-after) developmental sequence, see here.

And for the complete "Flash Mob Series" of ten paintings, see here.

Meanwhile -- back at the significance of autumn.  The artist/teacher who I'd set my sights on and approached with some nervousness actually agreed to come to The Yellow House and "take a look" -- and was more than generous and insightful in his observations.   The key takeaway for me (hey, that's a word that calls for a Flash Mob) is to -- press on, in the way I seem inclined to enjoy working.

I'm still processing some of the insights he gave me, and today I came across words of Joanna Field, a psychoanalyst who was one of the early figures in the "journaling" movement.  These  seemed -- serendipitously -- to parallel my personal reset.

"I began to have an idea of my life, not as the slow shaping of achievement to fit my preconceived purposes, but as the gradual discovery and growth of a purpose which I did not know."

Or -- in a light-hearted vein, the spirit of the Flash Mob is dancing into a new phase...not yet fleshed out, but full of excitement.   Happy Halloween.

Ghosts in the studio

 

 Ping! Ping! Ping-ping-ping! Ping!  A strange  noise to hear as I worked in the studio one early August morning.  Faintly metallic, or like fine gravel thrown against a window.  Well, it's just the time the street is stirring, and people are going off to work.  Who knows?

But the next morning, when the street and house were completely silent, I heard again Ping-ping-ping!  Ping!  Ping!  With some trepidation, I decided to check out the whole basement, floor to ceiling.

Oh, silly me.   I'd scarcely begun my rounds when more pinging sounds led me to --incredibly -- a vase of gorgeous seedheads I'd gathered from my friend G's alstroemeria plants. 

 

I'd thought these flowers were pricey florist exotics but in a home garden, they're practically invasive.  When I noticed their sculptural seedheads this year, I had to have some.

  

I'd hoped to preserve some for my new friend P, who does meticulous and carefully considered linocuts of the botanical subjects that are one of her enchantments, and one of mine.  But alas, the drying pods were literally exploding -- shooting small  pellet-like seeds three to five feet across the room, pinging as they hit the floor.

To enjoy the fun, I moved the vase into the studio and had another week or so of unpredictable pings.  One day, to use up some paint on my palette, I did what I call a "splash" -- just a quick putting-down of impressions.

  

 But really, the fine detail of stems and pods would better suit one of P's exquisite linocuts -- or the pen-and-ink drawings that I used to do so enthusiastically (and time-consumedly)(is that a word?).

Now, six weeks later, the ghost has become a virtual skeleton.

But remarkably, two pods remain -- and they are indestructible.  I've tried again and again to crush them between my fingers, and it's like squeezing a glass marble. 

I've often marvelled at the sheer physics of nature -- the way, for example, the branches of a chestnut tree are articulated and reinforced to hold the weight of the chestnuts.  For their toughness and projectile force, these seed pods should be studied by NASA!  (alstroe-nauts, get it?)

What marvels and mysteries grow in the dark ------------ !

Heard on the grapevine

Something we need to talk about.  Right now.  And the topic is:  The absurdity of some of today's common expressions that have found parallel lives as titles for paintings in the "Flash Mob" series.

Consider this one that always sets my teeth on edge:  "That's a conversation that we need to have."

Think about it.  This pretentious statement is so different from the ordinary, "Yeah, let's talk about it."  Even if this traditional phrase suggests a future time-frame, it also indicates an invitation, a commitment, an active process of two (or more) people talking!!  But "a conversation that we need to have"?   This seems to suggest something floating in the ether -- a cloud passing by -- something optional perhaps, even if "needed," and certainly not anything that anyone in listening distance has any responsibility for scheduling.

Think about the possible meanings this expression conveys when Person B uses it to respond to a point made by Person A.

"I was hoping you wouldn't bring this up, and I'll need time to cook up an answer."
 

"I'm utterly bored by this, and I'm not going to waste any more time on it."

 "I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about,  but later I'll figure it out."

"Maybe you'll forget that you ever brought this up, and I'll just stay in denial."

"Oh, I don't think so.  I will be the one to decide when we get around to talking about this."

 Put 'em all together, and what's it spell?  "A Conversation That We Need to Have" -- #9 in the Flash Mob series.   (View the unfolding sequence here)

Back to school -- seriously

 After Labour Day, it's back to school -- seriously.  My basic course work for fall semester will be drawing sessions at Basic Inquiry Studio in alternate weeks, supplemented by some special events here and there.

My plans for "summer school" were lost in the lazy days of summer, and after my most recent session in early August, the month morphed out of shape.  That August session was a bit out of shape itself, despite another terrific model.

I happened not to have the drawing tool I'd planned to use (a soft-grade Conté crayon), and that set me off on an insecure start with these 1-minute drawings:

 

I'd pre-planned some approaches to work on, and at least I managed a somewhat interesting planar analysis among the 5-minute poses:

By the time we were into ten minutes poses, I was having some discouraging problems with proportion.  (I think of this as The Day of the Incredible Shrinking Lower Legs).

 

Usually the last blast -- the three final half-hour poses -- makes the best of the session.  But I kept making false starts, eating up most of each half-hour, and finally decided just to play.  First play:-- the artists/students facing me on the other side of the model.  The two guys with the earphones listen to their own celestial music and draw like a dream; a real education to view their output.

 Next half-hour:  I drew the model (centre) and then using a tactic I've read about, I drew (on the left side of the sheet) what I imagined her to look like if I were positioned behind her.  Then, with just a few minutes left, I drew (right side of sheet) what I imagined her mirror image would look like.  Not easy!

For the finale, I made one last push to make a presentable piece of work.  And I can confidently say, from discreetly looking over others' shoulders (which everyone else does, too) that I was almost the only one to incorporate that nifty little stool the model is sitting on!

Next week:-- Summer vacation is over.  Back to Basics.  No more flitting around.

Loosen up? Smarten up!

It was *so* exciting to begin my eighth painting in the Flash Mob Series.  The title is "Loosen Up," and at the outset I felt I was really gliding along as I laid in the composition with the watercolour brush-pen shown above.  I could have gone on forever, drawing "wet" on my new Arches paper that immediately slurped the water away from the coloured guidelines.

Oddly, though, after working over old paintings for almost the whole past year, I'd forgotten some old hard-learned lessons.  The first of those -- remembered belatedly -- was, "Don't get too dark too fast."  It's easier to add progressively darker tones than it is to lighten up a dark patch.  The background was darker than I'd intended, and I realized there was no going back.

I'd forgotten another lesson, too, in those months of working on top of old paint.  The dynamics of working on unprimed white paper are entirely different, and the almost instant absorption can result in patchy expanses that need to be corrected later.  You'll see some here:

If you want to see the whole progression -- including the usual drama of heads, hands, feet  getting larger or smaller -- the whole sequence is here.

Things were pretty much corrected in the final painting -- the streakiness that shows is thanks to my wonderful camera picking up a kind of pentimento.

As it turned out, this is one of my favourites in the series -- because what I like best about the Flash Mobs, after the figures themselves, is the spaces between:--

I have #9 on the easel now and #10 in the planning stage.  After that, I can relax, loosen up, and dream about my next moves.  I have about eight possibilities floating around in my head right now.