Showing posts with label self portrait. Show all posts
Showing posts with label self portrait. Show all posts

Monday, 28 May 2012

The magic of tools

One of the things that fascinate me the most about art making are the tools, not only in the sense of the way they look, smell and feel, or the marks they make, but also their history, where they come from, what meaning they hold. Two pencils have been sitting on my desk lately, begging to be used, and perhaps to be used together. The first is a beautiful Faber-Castell E-Motion. We gave it to our dad on his 80th birthday. He was going blind and had Parkinson. He never used it. The second is a Prismacolor Ebony, perhaps one of the darkest pencils you can find. I dreamt of buying that pencil for three years. I could not find them in the UK and had to wait until I could go back to the States. One of the most exciting things when I land in the US is going to Michaels, and I was very happy to see that they had the pencil I had been dreaming of for such a long time. A bit of sad history and a token of happy history were sitting side by side on my desk, and tonight I decided to see if they could blend together into... life. Into my life. So here's a self portrait, inspired by a self portrait photo I took while we were driving across New Mexico and Arizona. My hair was a mess from taking my hat on and off. The silly expression is that of total bliss.

Thursday, 16 February 2012

Not Hockney again?

I have just finished David Hockney's Secret Knowledge, a book that makes you feel good about tracing, and bad just about everyhting else. Hockney claims that many more artists and much earlier on than we would expect, knew and used optical tools to aid their drawings and paintings. This, he says, doesn't at all detract from the ability of the artist, because these tools don't make marks and making marks with them is VERY awkward. I would like to add that what we do know for sure is that Renaissance artists did not use the iphone app called camera lucida. Neither did Hockney, funnily enough. I have used it here for this self portrait with Castello Bruzzo. It is as awkward as the real camera lucida: the phone moves, the paper moves and I did all this perched on the arm of a chair because I was charging the bloody thing. Nevertheless you can clearly see the resemblance with the drawings by Ingres (no? Really?). I like the three Bruzzos overlapping each other and across my face. What depressed me about the book, though, is that it kind of claims that the optical/photographic representation of the world is not truer or more real. Hockney, in fact, goes to the extent of saying that the camera obscura is the reason why we notice and reproduce shadows in our paintings, unlike other cultures who do not. When as a child I discovered that wherever I went, my shadow came with me, I was utterly distressed. Would I have had a happier childhood had I grown up in prephotography China?