Curious Crow

Charles Reid

I really love the way Charles Reid handles his brush:

Hope you all had a good weekend!

Done your Christmas shopping yet? :)

Alessandro di Mariano di Vanni Filipepi – Sandro Botticelli

There are two words which come to my mind when I think of Botticelli: linear and flowing. His images are full of flowing wraps, dresses and hair – and this flow is described through the masterly use of linear rhythm.   Though in the latter period of his life he painted only religious paintings it is his mythological paintings from the 1480s for which he is now known. In fact he executed some beautiful altarpieces during the same period, and carried out a number of commissions for Madonnas for wealthy patrons. He also contributed to the frescoes decorating the walls of the Sistine Chapel – though Michelangelo’s ceiling tends to overshadow the work of the other artists who worked on the Chapel.

But it is the mythological paintings which I too prefer, so they will be the paintings I look at in this post.

Pallas and The Centaur, C 1482, Tempera on Canvas, 204 x 147.5cm

Botticelli was born in 144/45, the youngest surviving child of four. Around age 15 he was apprenticed to a goldsmith, but soon afterwards he changed his plans and became apprenticed to the painter Fra Filippo Lippi in Prato. He was considered the best apprentice and in 1465 Botticelli executed his first work under the supervision of his master. Two years later his apprenticeship ended. He spent the years working hard and developing a reputation (though there are one or two inexplicably uncompleted works from this period) and he also began executing commissions for the Medici family. This connection was to continue throughout his life.

By the time he set  up a workshop in his father’s house in Florence, and received his first big commission, The Virtue of Fortitude from the Sei della Mercanzia in Florence, Botticelli’s distinctive style was already developed. The figures are painted with minimal light and shadow and clear contours.

This is very clearly seen in The Birth of Venus: Venus herself is pale, almost alabaster, and only minimal shading is used to suggest form. The Venus was one of four mythological paintings which Botticelli painted during the 1480s for Lorenzo di Pierfrancesco. Not only was the Venus the first nude for 1000 years she was – is - almost life sized!  This must have been deeply shocking at a period when the Christian taboo against portraying nude females continued to linger. 

Birth of Venus, C 1482-1486, Tempera on Canvas, 172.5 cm × 278.5 cm

Some historians argue that Simonetta Vespucci was the model for Venus, and that she was also the reason Botticelli never married as he was in love with her for years, although she herself was already married. Others, such as Hagen and Hagen (2001) say Venus is the product of the artist’s adherence to classical models and a style of drawing which made use of the classical canon of harmony and ideal proportions. Either way it is clear she is not a man with breasts as is often the case in paintings from this period!  

Surrounding Venus are three figures: on the left we have Zephyrus, the Wind of the West, blowing Venus ashore with his companion Chloris. She is surrounded by roses, as roses were said to appear wherever Venus set foot. The shell she rides in on symbolises fertility as does the water, but in addition the shell also symbolises sensuous pleasure and sexuality.The figure on the right is Hora – the cornflowers on her dress indicate this. And everywhere is rhythm and movement.

The desire to express  life through movement was an idea greatly valued by the Romans. Rediscovered statues from the Roman period had impressed the Renaissance painters deeply and they considered it important to include such expression in there own work. Botticelli’s linear style was eminently suited to this.

Venus and Mars,  C1483, Tempera on Panel, 69 cm × 173 cm

Even in Venus and Mars, which is an essentially static image, there is movement in the folds of the clothing and the arrangement of the limbs which leads the eye around the painting  in a soft sweeping manner. Above and around Venus and Mars four satyrs play mischievously, which create the necessary expression of life – though none it seems can restore Mars to consciousness. Botticelli’s  masterly ability to convey form though minimal shading is demonstrated to great effect in the depiction of Mars, and the softness of the palette creates an otherworldly, ethereal feel which befits the subject beautifully.

Primavera, C 1482,  Tempera on Panel, 203 cm × 314 cm

The Primavera, too, employs a restrained palette, though here the alabaster figures contrast with the dark tree trunks and foliage behind. Two flashes of colour:Venus’ red cape, and Mercury’s robe stand out against this deep contrast. Zephyrus is in this painting too: on the right, again with Chloris who is running from him. Next to Chloris is Flora, who is in fact Chloris - confused? The story is as follows:  Zephyrus raped Chloris, then turned her into the goddess Flora and married her. There are a considerable number of rapes in Greek mythology.

On the other side of Venus are three dancing figures believed to be the three Graces. Note how the bellies of all the women are full and rounded (like Van Eyck's women) and their breasts, by modern standards,  are smallish. Hips and thighs are full too. Even though this was an ideal of beauty it seems  to be rather closer to the reality of many women’s bodies than any ideals we have today.

Because this image is of Venus announcing the arrival of spring there are flowers everywhere and the trees are already fruiting. Yet the discord on the right between Zephyrus and Chloris seems a strange inclusion – all is not well in this garden, despite spring’s coming. Some historians believe this was commissioned and painted for a wedding: if so then the inclusion of Zephyrus and Chloris seems an even odder decision – certainly not a myth I would like depicted at the beginning of my married life. But of course we don’t know any of the facts around the painting’s creation for sure – even the commission for the four paintings by Lorenzo di Pierfrancesco is not certain.

The 1480s were the high point of Botticelli’s career,  by 1502 he had very little employment and this continued until his death in 1510. His work remained in Churches and private collections but little attention was paid to it until the 19thC. In 1893  a monograph was published, this was followed by more books and papers being written about Botticelli than any other artist between 1900 and 1920 – and it would appear that this sudden popularity made him an influential painter in the development of Art Nouveau. Now we regard Botticelli as a master and it seems surprising that this has not always been so, but his decorative linear style was out of fashion for a long time. It is only in the 20^th and 21^st centuries that we have really come to appreciate his work.

Bibliography

Deimling B 2004,  Botticelli, Taschen

Gombrich, E H, 1994 On the Renaissance, Phaidon

Gordon D 2003, 15th Century Italian Paintings, National Gallery Co. Ltd.
 

 

 

 

 

 

On the other hand...

Well I am feeling a little better, thank goodness and should have an Art History post up on Friday. Thanks for your well wishes.

As well as an art history post I also had one planned on drawing with your other (i.e non-dominant) hand last week. This is something I've done before, but this time round I was inspired by Lucia Cappacionne's book - The Power of Your Other Hand. This is actually an art therapy book which concentrates on writing with your other hand (which led to some interesting discoveries, amongst them the fact that I can write with both hands at the same time!). Anyway, one thing led to another and I started drawing from observation with my right (non-dom) hand again. And I've kept it up as I enjoy it - I've even started adding a watercolour wash - with varying results - also with my right hand. To provide keep the ideas flowing I've decided to work my way through the drawing challenges list in the Every Day Matters Drawing Group. I've been a member for ages but not got around to either completing any challenges or participating until now but I think it will provide the necessary impetus to keep going.

So without further ado here are the first drawings -

The writing is done by my left hand - I won't treat you to my right hand's offerings until it's had a little more practice, though with a bit of luck and training it may actually be better than the abysmal scrawl produced by my left hand!

I think these drawings demonstrate so clearly that drawing is 90% seeing. If you've never tried this do give it a try - one thing I find is that concentration is much easier because I have to focus so hard on compensating for not having well developed fine motor control. Also this distracts me from worrying about the drawing so paradoxically something which sounds difficult actually becomes relaxing.

And I hope all of you in the USA had a great Thanksgiving Holiday.

Urgh

Well, that visit to Cambridge did for me. I've done a few things this week but I'm sadly too fatigued to write about art this week - next week I promise.

In the meantime AccountoftheSun has uploaded the first part of a documentary about Titian's pigments and painting techniques. I saw it on TV years ago and it's excellent. Here's part one:

See you next week!

Cambridge and the Chronophage

I don't have many sketches to share - in fact only one for this post. I haven't been drawing so well this week mainly due to sheer fatigue. i just can't concentrate when the ME is bad. Against my better judgement ,(already fatigued - don't go out and do something which will exhaust me more), I went out with Dave to Cambridge this week. The thing was, despite feeling so wiped out, I needed some input. So we went to the Fitzwilliam Museum which was wonderful - I found a great Brueghel I have never spotted before  and made good use of the many seats available.

A trip to Cambridge is not complete without a visit to what used to be Heffers and is now called  something else but continues to be a large art supplies store. We have one nearer home but the staff treat every customer as a potential shoplifter so it's no fun for browsing.

Once I was the only customer in there and the young man who was serving followed me all around the shop, literally just behind me. I deliberately took my time, but of course I didn't enjoy it and, once I'd finished looking and paid for my stuff I told him exactly how unpleasant I found it being treated as a potential shoplifter, pointed out that I was a regular customer but that in future rather than come to this shop I would shop on-line whenever possible.

Although he apologised it made no difference - they continue to follow people around. If they are that concerned why don't they get CCTV? They are the ONLY decent art supply shop for 60 miles but they'd do a lot more business if they treated their customers with respect.

Anyway I'm digressing - betwixt and between the two locations we found, quite by accident, the chronophage. Dave did try filming it on his phone but it didn't come out very well so here is the official film:

It is behind glass and facing out onto the street.This was a great surprise as I had been wanting to see it, but had forgotten it was there.

Hope you are having a good weekend!

Lucien Freud

Lucien Freud is one of my heros and Leslie's comment yesterday reminded me that an interview (very rare) with him has been uploaded - in bits - to YouTube. It's excellent - he's so gentle and unassuming, not at all what I expected as in his self portraits he looks quite intimidating. Well worth watching the whole thing:

Unfortunately Typepad technology means I can't correct the overlap.

Horns

There is no deep meaning to this, I just felt like drawing a girl with horns. It's actually a surprise for someone.

I think you can see the colours - they're very subtle, but that turquiose glow is meant to be there.

 

11 x 81/4" Pencil and watercolour pencils

So how's everything in your worlds? We had our first Christmas card today, which was rather a surprise. I want to hide it away - I don't like the way it seems to start earlier and earlier every year. It's not even December yet!

Jan Van Eyck

I’m going to stay in the Low Countries for this post and take a look at the work of Jan Van Eyck (c. 1390 – 1441). Perhaps his most famous painting, which fortunately for me currently hangs in the National Gallery in London, is the painting known as The Arnolfini Marriage, or The Arnolfini Portrait. This jewel of a painting – and it is a jewel: the colours are rich deep and glowing as if lit by an inner light – is full of minute detail and highly accurate perspective (more about that later).

Oil on oak panel, 82.2 x 60cm, 1434

The painting is also full of symbolism - from the oranges below the window to the dog in the foreground everything in this painting has meaning. I'm afraid I just don't have the space to go into that here but you can find out more in this book.

Van Eyck was renowned for his use of oil as a medium for pigment. For a while he was even credited with this innovation, though he has since lost that crown. But whether he was the first to rely on oil as a binder or not, he certainly knew how to exploit the medium. He became an expert in the layering of fine glazes and it is this technique which gives his work the luminosity for which he is renowned.

Van Eyck was born in the village of Maaseyck near Maastricht. Though little is known about his early life, he was employed by John of Bavaria, Bishop of Liège, as a painter between 1422 and 1424. From there he went to the Duke of Burgundy’s Court at Lille to become court artist. Phillip the Good held him in very high esteem and regarded him as an intimate as well as an artist. Van Eyck was also permitted to take commissions from other patrons – in short he was in the ideal position to dedicate his time and energy to perfecting his art and to make contact with the Nobility of much of Europe.

In addition to these fortuitous circumstances Van Eyck was painting at an exciting point in the history of Flemish painting and more widely, Western Art. It was here in the Lowlands that both oil painting and easel or panel painting were developed. Panel painting developed from the tradition of illuminated manuscripts and the use of oil as a medium was developed in order to create luminous bright colours on the panels. At the same time the Flemish painters were also discovering how to represent linear perspective. Unlike the Florentines, who were of a theoretical bent, the Flemish learned by trial and error and went on to experiment with aerial perspective in a similar manner.

Oils had been used as a binder occasionally since the 10^th C; however it wasn’t until the 15^th C that artists began to exploit this and use layers of paint thinned with linseed oil to build up rich colours and intricate detail.  Often these glazes were used over egg tempera.

But a radical change in technique was not the only notable step forward in art at this time. I’ve mentioned above that artists in the Low Countries had discovered how to represent linear perspective: however to appreciate the radical step forward this meant we need to compare works from the same period which represent a kind of ‘Before and After’:

 

This image is from the wonderful Très Riches Heures du Duc de Berry, c. 1416. Note the naïve figures and the  perspective.

Now compare with this image:

The Madonna of Chancellor Rolin, c. 1433, oil on panel 26 x 24 “ approx.

Note the perspective both of the building and the scenery outside. The figures, too are highly sophisticated and consider the detail and accuracy in the decorative crown held aloft by the angel. And only seventeen years seperate these two images.

British Artist David Hockney has an explanation for this sudden change in the ability to represent linear perspective in such an highly accurate fashion: he believes that artists around this time began using a camera obscura to draw. He argues convincingly in his book and TV documentary that using a camera obscura to project an image directly on the panel and then drawing that image is the only way that Van Eyck could possibly have drawn the chandelier in the Arnolfini Portrait.

If you look closely at the chandelier it is perfectly rendered – crisp and with accurate angles. A feat for anyone to draw freehand, I would think, and certainly my idea of an extreme challenge!

Why are so many people horrified to think that artists may have used aids to draw? After all, Dürer used a grid, as did Van Gogh; many contemporary artists use all kinds of aids, but to hear the art establishment’s reactions to Hockney’s claims you’d think suggesting that they occasionally made life a little easier for themselves was akin to heresy. But these were commercial artists – they earned their living by painting commissions – when one makes art as a job, something which allows one to both develop a distinctive new style and ease the process is likely to be welcomed in my humble opinion.

It’s interesting to note that as an artist Hockney is completely open to this possibility and sees it as exciting, whereas the Art establishment is closed. Hockney spent two years devoted to researching this and compiling his argument – I’d be very interested to know what you all think.

Perhaps part of the problem is because today there is a tendency to revere artists from the past (and not just the past sometimes). We refer to them as Masters, (I don’t dispute this by the way – Van Eyck is a Master in my eyes too), but by doing so we put them on pedestals and forget they were working artists who no doubt wanted to make the best possible art they were capable of and who may therefore have been open to using whatever tools and techniques were available to them. Not necessarily regarding themselves as Masters, they may have seen the use of a camera obscura in the same way many illustrators regard the software Illustrator – a great tool which produced effects they could not achieve freehand and which made their lives easier.

Whatever the answer to this question there is no doubt that Van Eyck exemplifies the change in artistic style during what has become known as the ‘Northern Renaissance’. The artists of this period revolutionised Western Art, yet so little is known about them. Unlike the Italian artists, those in the Lowlands were not considered important enough to write about at the time. There was no Vasari, willing to record their life stories; but their work, fortunately, survives and we are able to see first hand just how different the work of Van Eyck and his contemporaries was.

I’ll leave you with this image of the Ghent altarpiece. Obviously a reproduction on a computer screen cannot begin to convey the stunning nature of this piece, however you can see the mastery of perspectival foreshortening in the figures of Adam and Eve (note too, Eve is not pregnant – many women were portrayed as having full rounded bellies during this period – look too at Botticelli’s work for more examples).

Oil and Tempera on oak panels, 11' x 15' open, 1432

Originally the altarpiece was credited to Van Eyck’s brother Hubert, now however, it is believed to be by Jan Van Eyck with assistance from his brother. The depictions of Adam and Eve are fully corporeal and solid, looking as if they may at any moment step down from the painting. Their lifelikeness is made all the more prominent by the contrast with the simulated relief carvings above them.

This is a magnificent piece  - approximately 11 x 15 feet when opened and it depicts, as well as Adam and Eve,  Christ as the ‘King of Kings’, flanked by the Virgin and St John the Baptist. Angles sing and make music either side of them, with Adam and Even on the outermost panels. The lower section depicts a vision of paradise – the flora and fauna incidentally are so accurately depicted they can be identified – and the surrounding panels depict Just Judges, Christian Warriors hermits and a giant St Christopher leading pilgrims prophets, popes and other clergy. There also confessors and a stream of female saints. In the centre is an altar, where the Lamb of God stands, the blood flowing from his chest into a chalice. In the foreground a fountain is inscribed: This is the fountain of the water of life.

The colours in this too are jewel like, radiant and glowing and it is believed that it was with this altarpiece that Van Eyck first developed the glazing techniques which would mark his work out as that of a master painter.

This description barely touches the surface of the piece but as one of his most important accomplishments I felt it important to include the altarpiece in this brief article. Wikipedia has a good page devoted to this piece with plenty of close ups if you'd like to see more.

The Altarpiece still hangs in the Cathedral – one day I shall visit Ghent, simply to see it!

Bibliography

A World History of Art

Secret Knowledge

Jan Van Eyck: The Play of Realism

The Wedding

 

 

 

Well...

I'm still struggling with that damn painting. Now I have to wait for things to dry before I can continue. Oh well.

I finally remembered to take my mini watercolour kit out with me this morning so I actually added washes to a couple of sketches. The watercolour kit is just a mint tin with five empty half pans I filled with basic tube colurs in it. I also have a small waterbrush which fits in there too - a Sakura Koi one. But I often forget to either take it with me or use it when I do. My memory is dire.

 

 

 

Even just a touch of colour makes quite a difference I think. I did all these drawings by only looking at the paper when I wanted to move my pen from one place to another. The rest of the time I just looked at the person. I like the results.

So how are you today?

Words to make art by.

Unlike some of the artists I come across on the www I like limits. I find it is much easier to create when I set myself a challenge - a limited palette say, or using a certain format - than it is if I don't. No limits - total freedom - might sound good in theory, but in practice I find it overwhelming. And I know I'm not alone.

Similarly I am not one of those people who eat at odd hours, works late into the night one day then sleeps the next. No, I like a routine. I'm like Rimbaud (you could set your clock by his daily walk apparently). In fact I like routine a little too much - Dave often laughs at me because I hate disruption so much. Same things, same time, every day please.

I find this conducive to creativity. If all the basics are looked after, if all the mundane decisions are already made then I have that much more energy to devote to art making. This is very important given that my energy is in short supply. It also helps to deal with lack of motivation. Going into the studio every afternoon is just what I do. I often don't want to. I suffer from fear just as much as the next person, but afternoons are for the studio so that's where I go. And I draw every day - even if it's only quick - just to keep my hand and eye in. Sometimes it's a lousy drawing - but so what? It's just a drawing. And I'm a human being not a machine - I can't produce things to an identical standard every day. I have learned this over time. It wasn't an easy lesson as I am a bit of a perfectionist, but thank goodness I have learned it - it's saved me a lot of pain and it brings me to the first 'Words to Make Art By'. Why do we need Words to Make Art By?  Because these too set limits, providing guidelines for what to do when it's all going wrong. And they can save those of us with a fragile ego from sinking into self flagellation. Without further ado then:

'If you want to make good art you must also be willing to make bad art'

I came across a version of this phrase first in The Artist's Way, by Julia Cameron.

Here's another version, from Art and Fear:

'The vast majority of your art exists to teach you how to make those few pieces that soar'

Exactly, everything, we as artists make, no matter whether it works or not, helps us learn more about our craft if we will only let ourselves stop and look at the piece with an objective eye.

Which leads me to the second set of 'Words':

'It's not a case of good or bad, it's a case of whether it works or not'

This is from yours truly - in an effort to help myself move from self-criticism to a critical eye (which every artist needs it they want to develop). Most pieces have areas which work better than other areas - the trick is to be able to look at something and identify which is which (putting it aside for a while can help). Few images are completely devoid of value - in fact I'll go out on a limb and say NOTHING we make is ever completely devoid of value. Once we start looking at our work in this way we speed up our learning process and also begin to enjoy the process much more because we grasp the fundamental fact of art making:

'It really is about process, not product'

Being an artist is about making art more than looking at it. We spend most of our time making things - paintings, sculpture, drawings, prints. As soon as we finish something, we start something else - or else we have more than one piece going at a time. And a lot of this making is about learning and perfecting techniques. And the process of learning is an unpredictable one - on a good day it leads to happy accidents and discoveries. Other days it doesn't. Mostly it's simply about putting the time in.

Michelangelo said something along these lines:

'If people knew how hard I worked, they would not be so surprised by what I make'

Process is what being an artist is all about.

I just realised that I'm making it sound like it's all hard work. That isn't my intention. Anyone who makes art regularly knows there are days when it's wonderful - you're in the zone and it all just flows, and then there are the quiet days when it's fine but nothing special, and then the low points...

But I think, particularly on the www there is a lot of emphasis on the fun of art making, which can lead to some slightly unrealistic expectations. It can be a great deal of fun - and if all you want to do is have fun, then of course this post doesn't apply to you - but if you have aspirations, well maybe this will hep. I also know that there are people out there who still struggle when it all seems to be going wrong, although they have been making art for a long time. This post is for you/them.

The final set of 'Words' are these:

'If you don't like it, do something to it'

This was something we were told over and over in college. I did have a hard time with it for a long while but I have gradually come to see the wisdom of this. If you make something and don't like it, you might as well do something to it - what have you to lose?    And pushing through, keeping going with something even when you think it's a failure is a great way of learning how to persevere. And if anything is needed for creative work it's perseverance. Ask Edison.

And sometimes 'doing something to it' turns dross into gold. As I sit here I can see a painting which is not quite finished. It has been a struggle from start to finish. At one point I even painted Gesso over everything I'd done and started again. There are still areas I'm not satisfied with but oh! how the colours glow. Even on this miserable grey November day those colours have depth and richness. I love that painting because I learned so much from persevering even though it was so hard to work on it sometimes. Next time, it won't be so hard because now I know how to make those colours glow. In fact I can't wait to take what I learned from this painting forward into the next.

And on that positive note I think it's about time to finish this post (I'll share the painting when it's finished).