My Love of Pu

Angel (1494) by Michelangelo  Basilica of Saint Dominic

There is a famous quote by Michelangelo regarding his sculpture, Angel. When asked how he was able to create this work, he said, "I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free." The ability to see the potential in the uncarved block is one of the reasons that I've always loved sculpture.

I never used to sculpt when I was younger but in recent years I have developed quite an interest in it. The subtractive nature of sculpture has always appealed to my mind. There is something special about staring at a block and shaping it in order to bring about the hidden potential. Being a father has really brought this idea to a deeper level. There are times when I am with my daughter, that I look at her and wonder what she will grow up to be. I realize that everything I do and don't do with this little girl will ultimately help shape her into her future self. The thought absolutely terrifies me.

As horrifying as this thought is, it reminds of a piece of Taoist philosophy that I had completely forgotten about. The concept of Pu or the uncarved block. It is a reference to pure potential. There is no right or wrong, good or bad; there just is. It is the human mind before it has been tainted by the world...it's most primordial state. Pu is my favorite part of sculpture. The very beginning, when there is no form, just the block waiting to be carved. I will stare at a block for days before I make a decision about what to carve. Once I do decide what to carve I begin to address the block like a philosophic problem. I examine the block's nature: What type of wood is it? What tools do I have or need? Which way does the grain of the wood flow?

Uncarved Mahogany Block

Now how unoriginal do I feel?

This week's project is far from complete...in fact it has barely begun. I have this old block of mahogany that I was given by my wife's uncle (put it this way, he was given the block by his teacher when he was a teenager and he found the block when it was salvaged from the bottom of the east river). I stared at this block for weeks and I finally was able to see a form. My original thought was to sculpt a Buddha sitting in lotus position. However after reading stories to my daughter, I decided to sculpt a father and child piece for my daughter. I could see myself sitting cross legged with my daughter in my lap while we read her bedtime stories.

This is where it gets strange. I searched the web to see how other have tackled this subject and low and behold do I find a sculpture that looks almost exactly to how I envisioned this.Well this makes the sculpture a little easier. I can use this as a primer for me to base my work. There are a few things I am going to change on my sculpture. For example, I won't have to worry about the weight issues that are inherent with stone like the primer does, so I can make the legs not look like the father has cankles. So I began carving. After two 30 minute sessions this is all that I was able to get:

I have to say that I Mahogany is a pain in the ass to work with. The wood is so hard that it dulls my tools and I have to re-sharpen them every 30 minutes...it is a tedious and frustrating wood to work with but the end result is gorgeous. Below is a mahogany sculpture that I found:

The Space Between Us- John Evans

I will do another post next month updating you all on the progress of this project...providing I haven't stabbed my hands or cut off a finger. I'll be back next Thursday with another project. Until then, have a good week!

Pandora's Box O' Crap

I always hated drawing self-portraits, actually I hated drawing portraits in general. No matter how hard I tried, no matter how closely I paid attention to the details, my drawings never looked like the subject.   Whenever I had an art project in school, I would do everything I could to avoid drawing faces.

This week's project reminded me why I avoided drawing faces and why I stopped drawing...WHAT A PAIN IN THE ASS!!  As frustrating as this drawing was, I learned a lot of things that many of us take for granted; the most important of which is how unique we all are. I know it sounds rather obvious ...we hear it everyday in commercials, on billboards, and from family members, etc. However, when you draw a portrait, you truly see how the sum of our unique features identify us as who we are. If just one of those features is off just slightly, it ruins the portrait and changes the piece entirely.  

Original Charles Schulz drawing

 
A good exercise to illustrate my point is to draw a picture of Snoopy. It seems like a rather simple exercise, there are so few lines and it's rather simplistic looking. However, don't be fooled, if the nose is off slightly, or the ears are too long, or the eye is set too far back, it won't look right. Sure, you'll be able to identify the character as Snoopy, but it will look like a poorly drawn Snoopy.

Batman and Robin #5 Cover art by Jim Lee

 

This week I used a picture by my favorite comic book artist, Jim Lee. In a lot of ways, copying this drawing was a lot like drawing Snoopy. I threw out several versions of the below image, my wife yelled at me for this and in retrospect, I wish I saved those pieces of crap because they illustrate my point perfectly. The classic mistake that every young artist (including yours truly) makes is that they use the standard proportion rules of the face and don't deviate from it.

I learned that what makes the Batman character unique is not so much the proportions of the face but his mask. The facial features aren't necessarily in proportion and if the ears, nose, or eyes off, it looks wrong. The mask exaggerates not only the facial features it covers, it also  highlights what's not covered: the chin and mouth. Surprisingly, these two items gave me the most trouble. What I learned was that the chin is not your standard everyday chin...it's the classic comic book heroic chin. It makes Batman, Batman. Without that chin, he looks like some poor schlep dressed up as Batman for Halloween.

My version of Jim Lee's drawing

Here is my interpretation of the Jim Lee drawing (Please excuse the crappy job done by my scanner...it doesn't pick up all of the shading thus making it look rather stark). It took me three tries to get the face correct but overall, I feel that I have made significant progress from last week. There are still things I need to work on...drawing hands, foreshortening, comic style shading, etc. The one thing I did differently than last week was I loosened up. I trusted my instincts and looked at the original drawing less than the previous week. Slowly but surely I am starting to become more confident in my abilities

This drawing was in a way a Pandora's Box...it unleashed several artistic challenges that exposed some pretty substantial weaknesses. UGH! Humbling? Yes. Of course this blog is meant to be humbling so I shouldn't at all be surprised. However, I will not do what I did when I was younger. I will not avoid this; in fact, I see this as a challenge and will keep at it until I get it right.

How do you make it to Carnegie Hall?

Growing up I loved comic book art, I never really read them...I would just copy the art. So if you were to ask me which which Iron Man comic introduced Tony Stark's alcoholism, I would stare at you like you had 3 heads.  Comic book art always seemed alive to me, more so than any other genre. Comics could break physical laws, exaggerate body proportions, and by doing so were able to capture movement without getting bogged down in extraneous details The result was always exciting art. I always felt that an invaluable exercise that will help you improve artistically is to copy other artists. Whether it's proportion, muscular development, perspective, etc.; there are lessons to be learned in every piece artwork.

This brings me to this weeks project. I found a great scene (below) in an Utlimate Annuals book, drawn by an extremely gifted artist, Mark Brooks. What appeals to me about this, it the movement and linear tension...OK I made up the phrase "linear tension" but I could not think of a better way to describe the tension of the lines used to convey anger, fury, as well as surprise. Also, by making the villain (Rhino) abnormally large, you get the feeling that the hero (Spider-Man), who is drawn as wispy yet muscular, is in for quite a fight.  No words are necessary here.

 

Here is my take on the above:

So what did I learn re-creating this?? First, it's really goddamn hard copying a comic book artist's work! It's even harder when you haven't been drawn in a long time. It's been a few days since I've looked at this but now that I am able to compare the two, I see all sorts of mistakes that I've made. Besides the obvious reference points being off (like the left arm of Rhino and the perspective of the head),  I see that I completely lack the overall style and fun it must have been to create the original. I was so worried about copying the image perfectly that I completely forgot to have fun and relax. To understand what I am talking about, watch this 2 minute video of one of the greatest comic book artists of all-time, Jim Lee. He creates something in 8 minutes that's better than anything I could accomplish in a month. 

Granted, he does this for a living and draws everyday, but the video points to something for us to learn. Through enough practice and comfort with your medium you can create anything and have fun doing it. I remember how it felt to have fun creating and I want to feel it again. I want to be at that level where I can draw and create without having to copy another artist.

I'm sure there are days when even the greatest artist is sick of what they do, but what makes them great is that they do it anyway despite how they feel. I look back and lament on what I gave up. I took my talent for granted and chose not to practice and now I see how far I've fallen off. I feel like I am learning to walk again. It's frustrating and humbling, but in the end I look forward to being able to create and have fun. There's only one way to get there though....PRACTICE, PRACTICE, PRACTICE!

Choose Your Tool, Monkey!

Let me begin this blog by telling you a story:

When I was in graduate school I worked as a sous chef/cook for just over a year.  Everyday, depending on how well I did my job, I would learn something new either about life or food from the chef. It was one day in particular that sort of put things in perspective for me. I decided to ask the chef about getting a Thursday night off. Now I should make it clear that getting time off as kitchen staff really does not exist since it's generally thought that there is no other place you would rather be than in the kitchen. I knew that I was going to catch hell for even thinking of asking him for this but my choice was either an angry boss or an angry wife (for those of you who know my wife knows that this was an easy decision). So I approached the chef like Oliver Twist asking for more food and explained that I needed this day off. Expecting the worst, he looked at me and said, "No problem...it's not like you'll be missed. I can get a monkey with a spoon to do your job!" He was kidding with me, of course, but with every joke there is always a grain of truth. So for the remainder of my time at the restaurant I was referred to as "Monkey Spoon."

This funny little interaction really made me think...When all is said and done, aren't we all monkeys with some sort of tool that defines us? The question I have, which leads me to this blog is: What is the tool that defines me?

Growing up, my tool was always the pencil. Art was my refuge from all of the teenage angst and family drama in my life. When I went away to college, art became work. Being 20 and foolish, I hated having to conform to styles and deadlines, so I began to ask myself: Am I doing this because everyone expects it of me or do I do it because I love it?  I decided that I did it because it was expected of me and chose to give up art. As the years progressed, I tried my hand at various tools: books, keyboards, ties. None of them really ever felt right. My wife kept telling me the whole time that I have this gift for art, why not go back to it. I had brief dalliances with art through the years, but I never committed to honing my gift.

So here I am today, doing the very things I said I would never do: 1. Write a blog, and 2. Share my art with those interested. I've always had issues with showing my art, mainly because I never thought it was that good enough, especially when you compared it to those who do it for a living. However, I am sort of at a crossroads in my life where I am now a father to an amazing 2 year old girl/little monkey. I'm starting to look back on my life and ask what have I really accomplished that she could be proud of. I don't want her to make the same mistakes I made. I want her to actually nurture whatever gifts/tools she has been blessed with and develop them to their fullest potential.

So for my wife and my daughter, I have decided that this monkey chooses to use the pencil that he was given at birth and draw with it to the nub! I make this solemn oath over the sacred banana of our ancestors: I will spend at least 30 minutes everyday doing something artistic (more than likely drawing but I may throw in a sculpture here and there). I will then post the result of my week's work along with an account of my process and struggle to complete it.  This is going to be a long and painful process for me to get to a level where I can be satisfied.  I hope you'll find this fun and interesting. I welcome any critique, advice, or comments you may have.

Come back tomorrow for the first project post!