Sketches from Monte Carlo, Part Deux

This time of year is cool to cold even on the French Riviera, but the sun warms you quickly and the vast hordes of tourists are all at home. We spent over a week there, visiting Monaco for the International Circus Festival, but spent some time in Nice and elsewhere too. Although Monaco is very small (less than a square mile) it is a dazzling jewel on the shore of the Mediterranean. The streets are decidedly narrow and the residents crowded into glittering high rises in the area around the harbor, the surrounding French towns retain the charm of the centuries. We rented a villa in Roqueville St Martin, only a mile or so from the famous city-state.

Left is a sketch of a square in the old town, Monaco-Ville, atop the high peninsula known as Le Rocher (the Rock) that juts into the Mediterranean. This particular day the normally sunny square was grey from the overcast skies. This promontory is the home of the ruling Grimaldi family, famous in this country as home to the American actress Grace Kelly, who married the late Prince Ranier in the 1950s at the height of her fame and became a princess. The town shares the top with the Prince's Palace, the oldest part of which dates to the 12th century. Originally it was a Genoese fortress but has been occupied by the Grimaldi princes since the late 13th. This time of year the town is quiet and uncrowded and we had a lovely time wandering its streets and museums. As a bonus we had several delightful lunches there, including the restaurant in the right side of the sketch. Much of Monaco-Ville is free of motor vehicles, owing to the narrow streets.


The sketch to the right is a view from the terrace of the villa, which is situated about halfway up a mountainside overlooking the sea. Most days while we were there hang gliders launched from the top, finding uplifting thermals as they soared. Sometimes as many as ten were aloft at once. The tiled terrace outside boasted bougainvillea, palms of several varieties, and all manner of flowering plants, still thriving in spite of the winter. The villa itself was (necessarily) a multi-level affair that reminded me of those cliff-hanging dwellings you see in California. The front door was at the top level and the villa rambled downslope from there, with sun-washed terraces at each level, all with sprawling views of the sea far below.



Below is another view from another terrace at the villa, again showing the ubiquitous hang gliders and the signature Italian cypress trees (beloved by van Gogh) of the Mediterranean coast. Although these trees are associated with grief and loss in writings of classical antiquity, for those of us in the less temperate areas of the world they always represent joy and warmth and life. It was lovely to see their spires aimed skyward.


When travelling, sketching is not only a way for me to keep working but can also serve as a way to keep in touch with friends, albeit in an old-fashioned, slower way. These are all postcard-sized watercolors that were sent home to friends and colleagues. I mailed them from the post office in Monaco-Ville, and was delighted that the stamps were local commemoratives of the Monte Carlo International Festival. The festival is an international competition of circus acts that included performers from all over the globe. My niece and her husband (The Owl and the Pussycat) won a Bronze. Warmest congratulations to Adrienne and Paul! 

Sketches from Monte Carlo

We've been visiting the south of France for the past few days, visiting the famous Monte Carlo casino in Monaco and other sites of interest. As is usually the case I have had the opportunity to sketch many of them. Like the rest of the Mediterranean world, there are picturesque sights (and sites) in abundance. Monaco is of course more glittering and glamorous than the rural parts of surrounding France, but there are stone villages that glow ochre and red in the beautiful light of this part of the world, beautiful vistas of the Mediterranean, and many many opportunities to soak up the history and culture. Sketching while here has been great fun. These are the first few little watercolor sketches I've managed. These are about 3.5x5.5 (postcard size). I used a standard method of a graphite layin then ink and watercolor washes.

This is a street in the the village of Eze, an ancient place about 10 miles or so from Nice on the Mediterranean coast. It's been occupied by humans since at least 2000 BCE and so has been under the rule of many differing civilizations and governments, from ancient Rome to the Moors to the House of Savoy. Today it is a hot tourist spot, replete with galleries, shops, and restaurants. In fact, Eze has become rather "Disneyfied," which means that today few locals actually live in the village. (Locally they call it "Tourist Ville.")

Eze is situated on a rocky knob of land about 1500 feet above the Mediterranean coast and so has dramatic vistas of the sea and coastline. It was a fortified place, a walled castle city with a postern gate and a winding way to the summit, but much was destroyed in various wars--the city walls are gone, for example. At the summit is a well-known exotic garden, and all along the walk to the top you're treated to art and antiquities in the shops along the way. The climb is strenuous but the top is worth the effort. We spent part of the day there and ate a delightful alfresco lunch at the top.

Most of our first few days was spent in Monaco itself, home of the storied Casino and the famous Grand Prix, which winds through the narrow, switch-back streets every year. Monaco is home to great wealth, owing to its tax laws which encourage residency of the rich and famous. (As an example, on one street near the harbor are dealerships for Rolls Royce, McLaren, Ferrari, and Mercedes Benz. City information says that over a third of the 35,000 population of the city are millionaires.

This is the Opera in Monaco, not far from the better-known Casino. The late Victorian architecture is striking and reflective of the overall look of the older section of the city. We spent some time outside in a delightful garden setting there before making our way back to our lodgings. Although winter is as heavy on Europe as it is at home, here on the coast the temperatures are moderate, warm enough to dine outside with highs in the 50s, although often cloudy and rainy.

This is the facade of the famous Monte Carlo Casino, dating to the 1880s. The Casino was built by the ruling Grimaldi family as a source of income after other earning opportunities were lost, and it has been an upper crust gambling venue ever since. The fabled location of all sorts of movies (Casino Royale) and events, the Casino hews to an older standard, requiring proper dress and etiquette (men may not enter without a jacket, for example) and is visited by much of the wealthy international set. On any given day one can see evidence by looking at autos parked at the entrance. There is no shortage of Maybachs, Rolls Royces, Bentleys, and other spectacularly costly automobiles. For those of us with a less robust economic status, free admission to the lobby is available until 2 pm, but to gamble at the tables you must pay admission. Even then, the true high-rollers are sequestered in private rooms.

We will be here a few more days, and I will post a few more watercolors before we return to the states,

Doing Digitial Dailies

Over the past year or two, as mentioned in other posts, one of my daily routines is to make at least one digital sketch. The subject matter has varied from newsmakers and celebrities to copies of drawings by past masters. Sometimes the drawing exercise was an attempt to understand the method of a master, sometimes to practice a particular drawing style, and sometimes just for fun. Over that time I made perhaps 300 drawings. Here are a selection.

Early last year I drew my granddaughter Della, using Sketchbook and my Cintiq tablet. This particular drawing is based on a personal snapshot that shows her beautiful smile. At age two you treasure those. It was an attempt to use the pencil tool and a warm dark tone to create depth in the Sketchbook digital program. At the time I was using a plain white background.

Not long after the portrait drawing above came this figure sketch of the artist Brice Marden, an abstract painter who has done mostly rectilinear work, from an online photo. Mr. Marden just turned 80 and still occupies a prominent place in the art world. This particular sketch was done using the same equipment and program mentioned earlier. Mostly I was interested in his somewhat sour expression and the gesture of his draped arm. Omitting unneeded detail is often an effective device when sketching.

Occasionally my interest in doing a digital morning sketch has more to do with improving drawing skills. That means practice at drawing all sorts of things from human faces to the tracery of tree branches. Improving drawing skills in turn improves overall visualization, understanding of structure, organization of values, and considerably more. This particular digital sketch was mostly for the practice of drawing cyclists in all kinds of postures. It is based on a news photo of a bicycle event--not a race--that occurred on city streets. The only interest I had was the cyclists so any detail that pertained to the city or buildings is omitted.

In this drawing from early 2018, two particular ideas were competing. First, there is an intentional homage to Edward Hopper's "Early Sunday Morning," an oil from the early 20th century depicting a deserted New York street. Second, I wanted to contrast the differing but regular shapes of the facade, from squares and rectangles to half-moons, against the irregular and unpredictable trees and branches. The shallow depth of field, raking light, and desertion in this particular sketch are all stolen from Mr. Hopper.

The the time I made the image to the right--"Flying"--I had begun to experiment with background color and with main drawing colors. This is another family drawing. The woman is my niece and the man is her husband. Together they are The Owl and the Pussycat, an internationally-known aerialist team. They will be competing in the Monte Carlo International Circus Festival this month, and we expect to spend time there for the event. This drawing was done from a reference photo taken by a friend of theirs. This particular piece was done for practice and to learn the program, but it turned ot well enough to keep.

The last drawing here was done from a mugshot published online. In this one my interest was in attempting to replicate the traditional black and white drawing on toned paper. Digital programs make that really simple. The min key is to make certain about texture and of opacity of the whites. Although this particular person didn't have yellow eyes, touching up the white made them stand out that way, so I left them undarkened.

In summary, daily drawing has been a good thing for me these past several months. It's like stretching before a workout, gets the art muscle warmed up and ready to go.







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Previously
Digital Drawing
Drawing Digital Dailies

Cakes or Tubes?

"La Rambla," watercolor, 2017

Watercolor artists have a lot of options when it comes to materials. Although the average person probably thinks of watercolors as those little solid cakes of color in a small tin box that are used in grade school, there are other forms too. The beautiful thing about watercolor is in its name: the color is thinned with water; there is no other medium. That makes the medium eminently portable and easy to use with minimal equipment.

Watercolor paint is made in a similar way to all paint. That is, it comprises a pigment and a binder, variably with other additives, all dissolve able in water. Most sold today uses gum arabic as the binder. Additives can include all sorts of water-soluble materials intended to alter the performance of the paint--honey, for example. Watercolor paint is now made with the same kinds of newer organic pigments encountered in other media as well as the old standby earth colors like ochres.

Tubed watercolors in plastic palette box

Tubes of watercolor paint in the "professional" grade is available from a number of manufacturers as are dry cakes in full pan and half-pan sizes. Paint sold as student grades contains extenders--unpigmented additions--diluting the pigment, or substitute pigments that mix or perform less well. So using somewhat more expensive professional grade is recommended.

Tubed watercolors can be had in very small, portable tubes of 5ml or so (left) or in larger sizes. Some companies sell an assortment in boxes that double as a palette and fits in a pocket, so all one has to do is carry a sketchbook or pad. On the other hand, small boxes of cakes that fit into a pocket are also available from a number of companies.

So the question arises, which is best, tubes or cakes? For me, it's the dry solid cakes in a small box. Mine holds the smaller half-pans, which are available in all of the standard colors. I can put one of these tiny boxes in my pocket or into a carry-on bag along with a small sketchbook and water pen and I'm ready to go. Tubes might be as handy put they also could leak and be altered by cabin pressure on airplanes or lower temperatures in cargo compartments.

In the studio I do use tubed watercolors and I always take both a pocket-sized box as well as a larger metal watercolor box that holds more colors in full-sized pans. Those sorts of watercolor boxes have more room for a waterbrush, a pen or two, and even perhaps a scrap or two of paper towelling.

"Waiting for food, Anna Marie Is," 2018

Sketching the Snowstorm

The big news this past week has been the monster winter storm that swept across the Midwest and into the East bringing deep blowing snow and dreadful conditions. Luckily we had no place to go and nothing to miss, and the storm left only 5 inches or so at Druid Hill Creek.

I spent an hour or so after the big snow sketching the wood in watercolor and gouache. I used a 5x9 sketchbook that I had toned with acrylic gouache. That makes the page a bit more slick so that gouache and watercolor sometimes bead up, giving unusual textures. The first page was toned with a rose color. I painted the snow pillows with titanium white gouache then painted watercolor over that. The pink tone became distant woods just catching the sun. I used a mixture of cool blue and sepia for some of the darks and added touches of ink here and there at the finish.

The next day I did this sketch in the same size. Unlike the day before, there was no sunshine. The grey day meant paying close attention to every detail since there were few shadows to establish forms. In particular the challenge was to portray the dark but ice-covered water. The page had been toned with a grey-geen acrylic wash, over which I painted the snowy patches and the tree trunks and saplings. I then went back with drybrush and suggested the distant woods and snow beyond and left the sky white. Using a very small round brush I tipped in branches and twigs then added dollops of titanium white to show the remaining snow here and there.

Sketching winter scenes takes special care with darks and with suggestion. More winter scenes are in the offing--Spring is still weeks and weeks away.

Paintings in Standard Sizes

"Sarge's," oil on panel, 20x16 (a standard size)

Long ago a teacher recommended that whatever we did, painters should use standard-sized supports for our work. That's because standard-sized canvas or panels fit into standard-sized frames, which in turn are less expensive than having a frame made to fit. Standard sizes are generally pretty obvious. Frame makers typical produce and stock 5x7, 8x10, 11x14, 16x20,18x24, 20x24, 24x30 and 24x36 (all in inches), along with a few square sizes. For convenience sake, I was taught, use those.

On the other hand, sometimes effective compositions require dimensions that differ from standard. For example, a panoramic view of the Grand Canyon might require a much wider support, or conversely a view of a skyscraper could mean a support much taller than wide. Either way, you'll need a custom built frame.To my mind composition clearly takes precedence over framing convenience.

"MacDougal Street," oil on canvas 36x18

Late last year I finished a new addition to a series of cityscapes that needed an unusual support size. My idea was to try to include a view of a city street from pavement level to quite high on the surrounding buildings. I tried to keep the field of view narrow enough (looking upward) to avoid distortions. After doing several preliminary digital sketches to work out a very vertical composition and a bright palette, I chose a canvas support measuring 36x18. The idea was to convey how a city street falls into dusk and the lights in buildings come up. The sky changes to rose, buildings go blue-gray. Most lights are still warm yellow (some of those cold blue ones are found here and there). But the interior warmth is what beckons, and we want to hurry in for the warmth and a round or two of cheer.

After a lot of thought and editing the result was "MacDougal Street," a famous venue in Manhattan's West Village. The Minetta Tavern and Cafe Wha are famous hangouts of the Beats and other intellectuals, artists, and writers over the decades. But they aren't actually next door but across the street from one another. In order to compress the scene I eliminated Minetta Street itself, which should actually intersect MacDougal behind the foreground figure. But of course, artistic license is always present in compositions. That's why you need custom-sized canvases and frames.

Favorite Art Books 15: The Eye of the Artist

These days, much can be learned from online sources. No matter what you want to know, there's a site for that, and painting is no different. It may be that online resources will replace books and magazines as sources of self-improvement in painting and drawing, but I doubt it. That's because there are useful printed materials that provide factual and easily-understood that have gone out of print or aren't easily found. The books of Andrew Loomis come to mind. Mr. Loomis wrote wonderful and amusing books about drawing and illustration, published in the 1940s that eventually went out of print. Yet the books became treasures in many studios, so much so that after a long while they've found their way back into print. Alas, not all useful books do.

A few years ago I ran across "The Eye of the Artist" by Jack Clifton. Like many similar books, this particular title is aimed at the beginning artist. But unlike many others it provides solid assistance to those whose skills are more advanced. The main reason that Mr. Clifton's book is worthwhile is because it addresses a concept that is commonly mentioned but not often explored--the idea of seeing. By "seeing," the author means realistic visual analysis of the artist's subject. Because sight--seeing--is actually the business of the mind we tend to see what we expect to see and miss the actual.

After beginning with a discussion of visual awareness and the visual world of the artist, the author demonstrates his approach to visual analysis and drawing by starting with the silhouette. Some call the outline of an object or group of objects as the envelope. Regardless, Mr. Clifton emphasizes that if the outline of something is sufficiently descriptive, the picture is already successful. From that basic step he covers how to analyze an object's basic shapes how to block-in a drawing or painting by thinking in grids, negative space and backgrounds, and thinking in cross-sections.

Building on shapes and form, he delves into the concept he terms "thinking through," also sometimes called drawing through. As he says, this simply means understanding the opposite side of any particular object. If you've ever drawn a cube and dotted in the hidden edges, you've thought through the shape and drawn through the object (see page scan, right), but not many emphasize the concept as a visual aid to eventual realistic drawings.

Although he spends time on tones (values), form, edges, perspective, and foreshortening, it is his emphasis on how one sees a particular setting or object as an artist and how that applies--for example,how the concept of perspective and its use aids in tricking the eye into a belief in reality.The author contends (rightly) that perspective is one of the most difficult concepts for beginners to grasp, but he gives solid advice about how to look at art, and the world, with an understanding of the subject. He discusses one point and two point perspective in some detail, and provides good examples as well as showing examples where accomplished artists were lacking. He also discusses foreshortening in detail, showing how horizontal relationships matter in establishing positions in space.

Mr. Clifton's clear prose and good graphics (albeit mostly in black and white), provide the reader with a good overview of the problem of representing three dimensions in two. In one outstanding example he takes the famous painting by Manet "Mme Victorine in the costume of an espada" to show how size matters in perspective. In the painting, Mr. Manet has made the picador and horse entirely too small for the image if one considers the figures in the upper right corner correctly sized. Even the masters make mistakes, but learning to see with the eye of an artist helps. 

In the last portions of the book he spends time on more advanced topics, dealing with what seems a hodge-podge of chapters. Nonetheless, chapters on values, reflection, refraction, monochrome and color, among others, are worthwhile. Throughout, the illustrations are in black and white, except the short section on color. Still, the graphics are good and the text is clear. Recommended, but with the caution that some sections are more advanced than others. This book was originally published in 1973 and is out of print, though available from Amazon and other sellers online.

Art and Anatomy

Michelangelo Buonarotti, "Leg muscles," red chalk

Studying drawings by past masters not long ago led me to studying a few particular artists, among them daVinci and Michelangelo, both of whom studied human anatomy by use of personal dissections. Quite a few early masters investigated anatomy via dissection but Leonardo and Michelangelo also made drawings of their anatomic studies that deserve serious artistic study. These drawings are remarkable works that still delight the viewer and provide great material for the developing artist to copy. Of course, their drawings are sometimes anatomically inaccurate but that is to be expected of the earliest anatomizers.

Because artists of the 16th and 17th centuries were exploring the unknown--the interior of the body--and were primarily doing their drawings for personal study they inevitably made errors. The goal of most of these early artists was personal information only, with the exception of daVinci, whose anatomic work he intended to publish as an anatomy treatise. Anyway, it would be instructive some day to compare early artists' drawings with contemporary images. Regardless of the artists' purposes many early drawings retain the ability to excite the eye and mind.

Leonardo daVinci, "The heart," ink ca 1511

The practice of art and the science of anatomy have had interlocking paths. That is, as representational art progressed so did anatomy, which underpins the science of human structure. Until photography the study of anatomy was either first-hand or came from drawings and paintings. Early students generally had no choice but to rely on accurate renderings of the structures discovered and studied and the artists who did them honed their skills in the doing. By the middle of the 16th century, strict accuracy and true images became the norm.

There were important differences among early artists and anatomists. Some of them like daVinci were studying anatomy for its own sake rather than to advance their artistic skills. On the other hand, for many artists the study of anatomy was no doubt partly from curiosity but it was an artistic curiosity. Many Leonardo's anatomy drawings are integral to his notes on the subject. Michelangelo's fewer remaining drawings (he destroyed many) deal with surface anatomy and superficial muscles and stand alone without notes or captions. Simple comparison shows the vastly different focus of the two artists' anatomic drawings.

Andreas Vesalius, "Tabulae anatomica sex" 1538

Following daVinci and Michelangelo came others nearly as gifted either artistically or scientifically. One of those was Andreas Vesalius, an Italian physician and anatomist. Vesalius was a native of Brussels but spent the majority of his career in Italy.  As a master physician it is likely that he knew the art and science of the times, including daVinci. Although he wasn't an artist, Vesalius himself was a good draftsman.

His 1543 book "De humani corporis fabrica," or The Structure of the Human Body is perhaps the most famous example of the melding of art and anatomic study. Vesalius personally drew early anatomic charts (his "Tabulae anatomic sex" or Six Anatomic Tables of 1538) even before the publication of his famous Fabrica a few years later.

Andreas Vesalius, "Fabrica p.174," woodcut 1543

Being in Italy provided Vesalius with access to highly skilled artists and craftsmen in his own town and nearby Florence and Venice. His Fabrica featured beautifully made woodcuts of the body systems from surface to deep internal anatomy to bones. Printed in folios, the Fabrica is a large book (roughly 20x12 or so) so the images are very large and needed to be quite sharp, which was made possible in woodcut. The images display partly dissected cadavers in various positions and attitudes to provide the student with good structural information. The artist is said to have been Jan van Calcar who was a student of Titian, though his biographic information is scanty at best.

The images in the Fabrica are strictly accurate, based on the lectures Vesalius gave to his medical students at Padua and his many personal dissections. (He believed that in order to actually understand the structure of the body a student should dissect instead of relying on demonstrations, a practice that continues in medical schools today.) Accuracy aside, though, the images are beautiful and deftly made, unlike other anatomic books of the time, showing the influence of the masters. Perhaps that is the training received by Calcar but also reflects on the personality of Vesalius.

"Right arm," digital drawn copy from the Fabrica

For a contemporary realist, anatomy is a crucial information set. That is, if you want to draw and paint figures that make sense, understanding structure is critical. Luckily, there are now a lot of online resources and references, now often in high-definition. And digital drawing and painting now make it possible to copy the masters with considerably less difficulty.

One of my personal disciplines lately has been copying various anatomic drawings of muscles using digital drawing. In all of these cases my program was Sketchbook. Here is an example, copied from one of the full figure dissections in the Fabrica. Anatomic works of others (in particular daVinci) will follow, and I will very likely add some copies of other masters to the mix.

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Related
Renaissance Drawing
Anatomy and the Masters
United Kingdom Royal Collection 
Historical Anatomies on the Web

A Look Back

The numbers on the calendar have changed. It's a time for retrospection and a time to change perspective. Most of us review the year, consider the future, make resolutions so it occurred to me to do the same. Here's a look back at the year just past on this blog for favorite images and posts. These are my favorites.

"An Old Roman (from a 100 CE portrait bust)" graphite

January
Sketches done from ancient Roman and Greek examples. A way to sharpen skills. Sketching From Ancient Art

February
Test driving the iPad Pro with several different digital drawing and painting programs. Digital Drawing on the iPad Pro

March
The beginning of a multi-post series of watercolors of Druid Hill Creek as spring overtakes the last of winter. Sketching Druid Hill Creek

"Druid Hill Creek 2-10-18" watercolor

April
Several sketches made with watercolor and digital programs. A Daily Doodle or Two

May
Sketches of animals in various media. Animals

June
Drawings of old pickup trucks, a favorite subject of mine. Old Pickup Trucks

July
A watercolor painting of an old pickup truck used as a service station truck. Painted with Texaco colors and logo. A Texaco Star

"World's Largest Agricultural Tires. Iowa State Fair 2018" watercolor

August
Much of the month was taken by several posts of on the spot watercolor/ink sketches done at the Iowa State Fair. The Iowa State Fair
 
September
Studies for possible future paintings. Studies for Tronies


October
About using the figure to depict emotion. Expressive Figures

November
Watercolor sketches made in Florida during late November. Sketches of Florida

December
Drawings done using the Sketchbook digital program and a Wacom tablet. Digital Drawings

Reviewing the work for the year and the ideas, events, and work behind it, the value has been clear to me.

Wishing you a happy and productive year.

A Happier New Year To All

The year that is rapidly ticking away has been a dreadful one for many if happy for some. There have been calamities and disasters and of course politics as fuel. Still, as the calendar turns we begin with hope.

No matter how you view the outgoing year, to everyone in the world here's wishing for a Happier New Year.

Here Comes the Sun

The solstice is past and the days are beginning to grow longer as the sun makes its path across the sky, promising spring and warmth though both are yet far away. An old friend used to celebrate the solstice by exclaiming, "Here comes the sun!" Even when the days are still cold, the sunshine warms the soul and promises change and growth. George Harrison had it right in his famous song by the same name.

Here a few works celebrating sunshine. The first is a small landscape showing the view from my home studio just as the winter sun hits the side of a house up the hill. The warm sunlight bathed the house and snow at the top of the hill while the valley of Druid Hill Creek below was still in blue shadow. This is oil on panel, 8x10, and was done alla prima one morning in about an hour.

The next is also an oil sketch of a snowy scene on a clear winter day. Ask most anyone and even if the temperatures are low they prefer the day to be sunny. One of the great things in winter is finding ways to render snow. It isn't white, after all, but takes its coloration from the light and shadow falling on it. Here the shadows are a cold blue while the sunlit snow is warm. The twisted shape of the mulberry tree in the foreground is completely in shadow while the opposite slope is sun-warmed. This is 9x12 on panel.

Oil sketching in winter is a bit problematic given the weather, but these two were done from the window of the studio.

In winter one embraces the sun, celebrates it and each small gain in warmth and day length. While oil paint is the preferred medium of many collectors, watercolor can provide real satisfaction. Here is a sketch of bright sun on new snow, looking downstream. The blue shadows fall across the frozen and snow-covered course of the creek. Like the two oils, I did this one standing in a studio window (the temperature outdoors was near zero). The transparency of watercolor and the bright white paper make this painting look considerably brighter than the oils above. This is about 5x9 inches in one of my sketchbooks.

So take heart, days are getting longer and the sun is bringing back our smiles.

Happy Christmas

A Happy Christmas. In the runup to the holiday, many news outlets have carried a photo taken from lunar orbit on Christmas Eve.

It is a half-century since Americans orbited the Moon on Christmas Eve, broadcasting the image of our big blue marble rising over the gray, empty lunar surface. And there it was: the only place in the unknowable infinity of the cosmos that we can call home. The place of life, bright and hospitable.

That image stays with so many whom I hope remember and are moved once again; it was watched by about a billion people, live from space. The largest audience ever. The astronauts read the first few lines of the book of Genesis, from the Judeo-Christian tradition. Turn off the sound if you choose. For me it is the images that are most moving and thought-provoking anyway. What will happen to our "good Earth"?



Happy Holidays to all.

Anatomy and the Masters

Leonardo da Vinci, "Skull," ink, 1489

One of the areas of overlap between my current occupation as a realist painter and a previous one is human anatomy. A working knowledge of the intricacies of the human frame and form is essential for the figurative and portrait painter, of course, but it's also essential for people like cartoonists, game designers, storyboard artists, and animators of course. Art schools now teach courses in anatomy for artists, and there seem to be endless books for human anatomy for artists. But it wasn't always so, partly because anatomy wasn't well-known earlier than the beginning of the Renaissance, and partly owing to the difficult in diffusion of knowledge before the 15th century.

Leonardo da Vinci, "Arm bones," ink ca 1510

During those years of renewal and exploration, masters of sculpture and painting began to explore human anatomy personally. Two of the titans of the era were contemporaries: Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo Buonarotti; and each studied anatomy seriously and in depth. Both men apprenticed with masters who were dedicated to the understanding of human structure.

Leonardo da Vinci, "Female Torso," ink, ca 1510

Leonardo began his investigations of anatomy in the late 1480s, and began a notebook he headed "On the Human Figure," though for a long while it only contained drawings of the skull (see above). In the winter of 1507 though, Leonardo wrote that a man of 100 died and he "made an anatomy" (dissected) him to see the cause of death. In the next half decade or so he did more dissections and studied anatomy very seriously, filling pages of his notebook, now in the Windsor Castle collection. In that famous book he collects drawings of muscles, bones, the respiratory and circulatory systems, even important structures of the reproductive tract. It is clear from looking at his drawings that Leonardo was informing himself of the latest findings in anatomy. Leonardo was actively pursuing his own experiences and information and intended to eventually publish those studies (a number were being published in those decades) but did not, nor did his heirs. The amazing thing about da Vinci is the quality of his drawing coupled with the quality of his questions and observations.

Michelangelo, "Leg muscles," rec chalk

Michelangelo, "Back and hip muscles," red chalk

In contrast, Michelangelo studied anatomy with the eye of an artist. Michelangelo began studying anatomy while apprenticed to Ghirlandao, in Florence. As a sculptor, he was vitally interested in the structure of the body, though his interest was focused not so much on internal organs as on muscles and structure. And unlike da Vinci, Michelangelo was not accumulating material for a treatise. He was intent on improving his artistic understanding. It is well-known from biographical sources that Michelangelo dissected cadavers with permission (as did Leonardo), and he is said later to have wanted to publish his anatomic findings but dissection was disgusting to him. (Recall that there was no embalming in the 16th century.) Michelangelo himself destroyed many of his drawings, particularly anatomic ones, and the ones that survive seem to be predominantly musculoskeletal drawings.

To be sure, the experience of these two masters is atypical. An artist certainly doesn't need to dissect a body to draw one accurately. On the other hand, if one is to draw and paint our fellow humans accurately, it's crucial to learn the anatomy of the body. Classical art education has traditionally included anatomy, and continues to do so.

Animals for Fun and Practice

Sketching people, landscapes, streets and buildings, and so on has occupied most of my drawing time until not long ago. But it occurred to me that although I've done quite a few sketches of people, when it comes to animals, not so much. In the last few months I've tried to correct that.

This is a quick sketch of our two schnauzer puppies, Tillie and Stella, sleeping on a cushion. They're both still little balls of fur at the time I sketched them on my iPad Pro using Sketchbook. Although I keep a sketchbook handy most of the time, more and more a quick digital sketch is pretty simple. Whether doing a digital sketch or something more traditional, when sketching animals it pays to try hard to capture the critical things first--body shape, gesture, and so on. With this one Tillie (the white one)moved after I started, necessitating a revision. I only briefly sketched in the cushion's outline and finished that later because I wanted to capture the head and ears and the bent leg as the near puppy slept. The shading and cushion details could and did wait.

Sometimes even having a sketchbook or iPad handy isn't good enough. This is a sketch of a red-tail hawk that I saw in Florida when we were visiting there last month. In this particular case, the hawk was as tame as I've ever seen--it came up and landed on the corner of the pool enclosure where we were staying, literally six feet away. Fearing no time at all for sketching I managed to grab a camera and snap a half dozen shots from that close vantage point, using an automatic point-and-shoot digital. After I returned home I did the quick sketch to the left, simply to catch the shape of the head and beak and study the neck markings. Although the lower body was in fair focus in my quick reference snapshot, I was satisfied with keeping those parts blurred and concentrating on the eye and beak.

Of course, sometimes the only way to draw certain animals is from reference materials. You'd have a very difficult time trying to sketch a fox in the wild, for example. But this drawing is actually from a news photo of a fox in Europe who has become tame enough to associate with humans. His name is Gaspard, and from the news story he seems like a fine fellow.

Finally, unless you visit a zoo, there are animals you simply won't see in nature here in North America. Not long ago I ran across a story about what sounds like the world's largest kangaroo, who had died of old age at 12 or so. He had been publicized (at least in Australia) as "Roger the Roo," and by the news photos of this big fellow he had a physique rather like professional wrestlers--"ripped" as bodybuilders say. Here he is, from an undated photo I saw in the obituary, published by the BBC.

The ability to draw animals is an important skill for many artists and will repay the work needed to gain competence.





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Renaissance Drawings

Michelangelo Buonarotti, "Study of a Mourning Woman, ca 1500

At the Getty Renaissance drawings are on display in an exhibition called Spectacular Mysteries: Renaissance Drawings Revealed (until April 29). The premise of the exhibit is that many many drawings made in during the period were and are difficult to attribute, given that they are generally unsigned, the question of authorship is quite often difficult. The Getty has brought together a group of drawings from the Italian Renaissance (16th century) from their own collection and from private hands and investigated. The show brings together "what we know, what we do not know, what we would like to know, and what we may never know," about these esteemed works.

Because these works are difficult to attribute, quite often the only evidence at hand to determine the why, who, how, when and so on is the actual drawing. This exhibit shows the visitor how these kinds of art are investigated, from working on attribution by stylistic comparisons. An excellent example is the drawing by Michelangelo (right) of a mourning woman. This particular drawing, though unsigned, is very much in the style of the master, and further analysis confirmed the impression of an auction house expert.

Lorenzo di Credi, "Head of a Boy Crowned with Laurel," ca 1500

The group of nearly forty drawings on display include works by Titian, Parmagianino, Credi, and others that have never been attributed. Each work has been investigated and evaluated by the Getty, but as is often the case, if the image does not relate to other known works either stylistically or as apparent preparatory work, the actual artist may never be known.

For me, the important thing is the drawings themselves. That is, if the drawing is effective and well made it is interesting. Study of these sorts of works gives the working artist an opportunity to speculate on how they were made, what the artist was thinking while laying down red or black chalk or ink lines. How did he  (or rarely, she) accomplish this feat of legerdemain, representing three dimensions in two? Attribution is important because it gives us a clue about where to look for more examples of the mastery we're seeing; for the "art world" of course, it allows assignment of financial value. But the actual art is considerably more interesting. Happily, there is a book from the Getty that includes many of these drawings (available on the museum website and also from Amazon) that provides many closeups and discussions.

My regret about this show is that like many it's not possible for me to visit. If you live in the area, take time to visit the Getty and see this show. After all, it's free.

Titian, "Pastoral Scene," ca 1565

Parmagianino, "Head of a Young Man," ca 1540

Pollauido (attrib), "Head of a Young Man," ca 1470