Day Six and I woke up feeling loads better - I found the Zen of Not Being Able to Draw. Decided to stop worrying about it and just make as many right marks as I could. Some stuff worked really well, some stuff worked worse than usual but I felt a lot lighter about it. I think the fact my muscles had stopped aching and being stiff helped with that as well, as did soaking up the sunshine and fresh air during our breaks.
We had Mark again in the morning. The model really is very important - for their energy level as much as their ability to stay still. Mark really never got comfortable and had a lot of trouble understanding what was needed for the gesture poses. We ended up doing a lot of 10 and 20 minute poses which seemed like a good length of time for me with my charchoal, chalk and newsprint.
For the afternoon had another new model, Mary. She was, in fact, Alan's wife. She was a very good model, especially with the gesture poses which called for a variety of "actions". I wonder if she and Alan practice poses in their living room. hmm. She was nice to draw though I noticed that her face became so relaxed her jaw would drop open. She was in her late 50s early 60s, but I seemed to draw her as much younger than that - in her face at least.
Her late afternoon long pose was a lovely one. Sitting with her weight back on her hands and her legs outstretched with one leg slightly bent, as if at the beach. I had a great view - not *too* much forshortening and two very clear feet. I started in the middle of her body and drew outwards - measuring, looking, marking the paper. I got all the way to her left foot and the wheels fell off my waagon - I couldn't get that foot to look like it was attached to the end of her leg to save_my_life. Her foot, in fact, looked like it'd been transplanted from Fred Flinstones! I had to laugh, it was just so bizarre looking. Marianne came over and looked at my work - I asked her to help me out and she figured my mistake was in the angle of the leg so she drew over the top, discovering yes, this was the case, but that angle affected this angle, and that tilt and this length and before I knew it, the only *right* thing in the entire drawing was the right wrist. Her extra dark conte lines overlaid my softer charcoal ones. The day ended with most of us wanting the pose to last, so as we had Mary again for the next day - our last day (yes, there is an end to this) we would set her up in that pose again and those who wished to continue working on that drawing could, and those (me) who needed a second "go" at it would be able to try again.
I had noticed that Norman had bought a novel sometime during the day and was now reading it at any and all breaks. He looked like he was truly over drawing and looking too. I bet he was over his mother mumbling at him "Shut up Norman" every time he talked too much during class. His work was quite good too - he was better than his mother. Both of them did very tight small work though, and if anything it got *smaller* during the 7 days of the course.
The Wanganui Arts Society had invited all students to a bar-b-que to be held at a cafe called Vega that evening. We didn't really know where that was but had an idea it was down by the paddle-boat place by the fine arts studio. We were only a few blocks out - thanks to the barmaid of the pub-opposite for the updated directions. The pub patrons were all male. Those older, horse-racing, TAB types. The conversation died as we walked into the bar. Almost silence, but for the sport on the television. I thought for a fleeting moment I would ask directions to Vega from the patrons but decided the best course of action was to ask a member of staff. Although the barmaid was behind the bar, it took her several long minutes to acknowledge our presence and answer our request for directions. She wasn't busy, she just waited until she was ready to say hello. There was a sign behind the bar "you are welcome to use our smoking room - it's outside - have a nice day".
Vega was quite a long cafe, with a bar in the front and one out the back, with a small deck and a large outdoor area. We spotted Mrs B and Norman outside at one of the few tables, so we decided to stay inside. Bron and Joslyn arrived sporting very swish and still new green flax bags they'd made earlier in the day. We ordered drinks and introduced ourselves finally, and proceeded to have a jolly nice time together. The food was really nice too, and plenty of it thank goodness as about 50 more people than anticipated showed up. That's what happens when you offer free food in an art centric place like Wanganui - no artist in their right mind'd pass the opportunity of free tabouli.
After a few hours of nattering and munching, Bron and Joslyn went to mingle with the other guests and Pat and I decided to go home. Yes, we are party poopers but we were tired and I was *over* people [yes, it most certainly is all about my needs] Pat went to her room to read, and I went to mine to watch Graveyard of Fireflies. I've been meaning to watch this for ages - it's beautifully drawn but oh sooo sad. Talk about *cry* Trev.
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We had Mark again in the morning. The model really is very important - for their energy level as much as their ability to stay still. Mark really never got comfortable and had a lot of trouble understanding what was needed for the gesture poses. We ended up doing a lot of 10 and 20 minute poses which seemed like a good length of time for me with my charchoal, chalk and newsprint.
For the afternoon had another new model, Mary. She was, in fact, Alan's wife. She was a very good model, especially with the gesture poses which called for a variety of "actions". I wonder if she and Alan practice poses in their living room. hmm. She was nice to draw though I noticed that her face became so relaxed her jaw would drop open. She was in her late 50s early 60s, but I seemed to draw her as much younger than that - in her face at least.
Her late afternoon long pose was a lovely one. Sitting with her weight back on her hands and her legs outstretched with one leg slightly bent, as if at the beach. I had a great view - not *too* much forshortening and two very clear feet. I started in the middle of her body and drew outwards - measuring, looking, marking the paper. I got all the way to her left foot and the wheels fell off my waagon - I couldn't get that foot to look like it was attached to the end of her leg to save_my_life. Her foot, in fact, looked like it'd been transplanted from Fred Flinstones! I had to laugh, it was just so bizarre looking. Marianne came over and looked at my work - I asked her to help me out and she figured my mistake was in the angle of the leg so she drew over the top, discovering yes, this was the case, but that angle affected this angle, and that tilt and this length and before I knew it, the only *right* thing in the entire drawing was the right wrist. Her extra dark conte lines overlaid my softer charcoal ones. The day ended with most of us wanting the pose to last, so as we had Mary again for the next day - our last day (yes, there is an end to this) we would set her up in that pose again and those who wished to continue working on that drawing could, and those (me) who needed a second "go" at it would be able to try again.
I had noticed that Norman had bought a novel sometime during the day and was now reading it at any and all breaks. He looked like he was truly over drawing and looking too. I bet he was over his mother mumbling at him "Shut up Norman" every time he talked too much during class. His work was quite good too - he was better than his mother. Both of them did very tight small work though, and if anything it got *smaller* during the 7 days of the course.
The Wanganui Arts Society had invited all students to a bar-b-que to be held at a cafe called Vega that evening. We didn't really know where that was but had an idea it was down by the paddle-boat place by the fine arts studio. We were only a few blocks out - thanks to the barmaid of the pub-opposite for the updated directions. The pub patrons were all male. Those older, horse-racing, TAB types. The conversation died as we walked into the bar. Almost silence, but for the sport on the television. I thought for a fleeting moment I would ask directions to Vega from the patrons but decided the best course of action was to ask a member of staff. Although the barmaid was behind the bar, it took her several long minutes to acknowledge our presence and answer our request for directions. She wasn't busy, she just waited until she was ready to say hello. There was a sign behind the bar "you are welcome to use our smoking room - it's outside - have a nice day".
Vega was quite a long cafe, with a bar in the front and one out the back, with a small deck and a large outdoor area. We spotted Mrs B and Norman outside at one of the few tables, so we decided to stay inside. Bron and Joslyn arrived sporting very swish and still new green flax bags they'd made earlier in the day. We ordered drinks and introduced ourselves finally, and proceeded to have a jolly nice time together. The food was really nice too, and plenty of it thank goodness as about 50 more people than anticipated showed up. That's what happens when you offer free food in an art centric place like Wanganui - no artist in their right mind'd pass the opportunity of free tabouli.
After a few hours of nattering and munching, Bron and Joslyn went to mingle with the other guests and Pat and I decided to go home. Yes, we are party poopers but we were tired and I was *over* people [yes, it most certainly is all about my needs] Pat went to her room to read, and I went to mine to watch Graveyard of Fireflies. I've been meaning to watch this for ages - it's beautifully drawn but oh sooo sad. Talk about *cry* Trev.
I'm going to be a complete girl about this, okay? but I don't like charcoal because it's so messy. And I hate smudging stuff, forever afterwards leaving fingertip prints all over the paper. I understand about the "being bold" and the "tactile mark making" but can we just decide it's not for me? please?
Saying that, I did get the scoopiness of the bowl and the curvy/dippiness of the fish and I love that I got the brow of the fish flat (top left) and dark - dark is good. But blech.. I have smudges on my face and sleeves and all over the paper. Damn charcoal.
The object of these exercises to to create shape. I'm a lazy flat cross-hatcher. It's a habit I've fallen into and am trying to break. Trying to force my marks around an object instead of meshlike over the top. I'm getting there. I am also about to burst forth and rediscover line - I've always loved line drawings especially where the consistency of line varies. We used to achieve that at Life Class by using kebab sticks dipped in indian ink - the fact that a kebab stick won't *hold* much ink at any one go meant for blobby, inconsistent marks. I liked that. I liked that a lot.
The Fish on Brown Paper (above) was a "warm up" of about 10 minutes done in charcoal and chalk. I spent about 50 minutes on the Pencil drawing (below) and I achived good shape and depth apart from the dumbass decision (mine - I made it) to darken under the bowl as if you could see it - which I couldn't. so shouldn'tve. Number One Rule of Drawing: Draw what you see. Number Two Rule of Drawing: DRAW WHAT YOU SEE! If it's not *there* don't draw it. Simple really.
I love drawing fish - they're so solid and long, with beautiful shapes and planes. I haven't painted them in years and they lend themselves beautifully to watercolour, in my opinion.
Focus michelle focus. That's the thing - I can't. I can focus on the fish. I can focus on your eyes. But I can't focus on co-ordinating the keys and the sketchbook and the pencils and the door and the ride and all the logistics of being me today.
I sat under a tree after drawing (its not a class so much as a group.. I'm the only person drawing there, the rest are painting - every Wednesday 930am-12pm in case you didn't know), thinking lovely thoughts for 20 minutes while I waited for Simon to pick me up. Just taking the complete luxury of time to be able to be alone with my thinks.
After that, I dropped 'round to see a lady I know. She's getting on in years well into her 80s, but still bright and funny and interfering and all those good things. I took her a bunch of lavender I pinched from the bushes outside Warehouse Stationery yesterday. A little bird had told me she was mad about lavender. She asked me how I was and I said I was fine. She looked at me and said "Sit down, on that chair. Over here." indicating that I pull an upright wicker chair out to the middle of the room. She told me to take off my cardigan and sit. She then began to rub her hands over my shoulders, Massaging into my shoulderblades "There's no tension here, that's good." she said. She talked about days when she was young - about 16 she said. Working in her first job in an accounts office when a traveller came in to see the Sales people. Her fingers pressed up my neck pressing her fingers on a sore spot "ahh there's some tension right there" she pressed harder before moving her hands up into my hair and over my skull.
She said the traveller never touched her nor she him, in fact he was on the other side of the room talking to the sales people when he turned and looked at her. When she met his gaze he said she had healing hands. Just like that. "You have healing hands." She continued "You know I don't know if that's true or not but I've always been able to make headaches disappear by doing this" and her soft arthritic fingers smoothed my brow from middle outwards, three soft fingerpads wide, slowly and over and over. Then she pressed them gently against my temples. "You have no pressure here" she said "that's good." Spreading her hands and fingers wide she pressed her hands on my head. My eyes were long closed by this stage and there were bright colours dancing on the inside of my eyelids.
She moved back down to my shoulders and said "No knots, that's good, you feel good." She stopped then, her arthritis means she can't do it for long anymore. She said I was to lie on the floor "two whole minutes Michelle, I'll time you" So I did as she instructed "I'm bossy, aren't I?" she laughed. Bossy like love, I thought. I lay flat on my back on her loungeroom floor while she timed me.
When I was allowed to get up again, I asked half jokingly "Same time next Wednesday, another bunch of lavender?" she laughed and we talked for a while. She talked about realising that she's going to live a bit longer than her mother and brother as she takes after her father's side of the family so will be here right into her 90s. I assured her that was a good thing as I liked her very much and would prefer she stuck around a lot longer.