Two of these drawings sustained a bit of damage while sitting innocently in the corner of my apartment. A leak from the apartment above spattered water on the first drawing. The water bounced off the top of a box that stored sketchbooks, landing on this drawing that was propped up on the wall beside it. Fifteen years of sketchbooks were damaged as well; very painful. The second drawing was torn when the corner of a frame, stored next to it, slid across the drawing’s surface. I guess I’m learning that I need to take better care of my artwork. Maybe use more durable and archival media. I also learned that I liked these drawings more then I let myself know. I did them/do them while teaching my classes. It’s a way to keep me busy while giving students time to work out issues on their own. I end up trying new stuff, too. So I thought I would post the most recent drawing (the third) along with the other two that were very recently damaged as a way to respect them, and preserve them. I already uploaded a phone pic of the third drawing to Facebook; apologies for the redundancy. By the way, Thomas Anshutz, while teaching a cast drawing class at the Pennsylvania Academy, drew along with the students. I did a search online to share a few with you, but couldn’t find the knockout drawings that I have in a book about him.
This beauty stands looking out over the Hudson, west to Hoboken. It's along the pedestrian path in Battery Park. Running past it each day, I've had a chance to contemplate its beauty and presence. There's something about it that stirs me. It's not often you see a piece of contemporary sculpture that works this well, is done so beautifully, and is so theatrical, a bit classical, male and nude. I've grown to absolutely love it. On the same path, I've also had the chance, recently, to view and contemplate the Statue of Liberty, daily. It has dawned on me that a sculpture (or statue) of that size, erected in such a significant way, in such a significant place, has never been attempted again. It's truly singular. Why?
How futuristic, how sci-fi, how incredible would it be if a sculpture like this one (above), stood, like the Statue of Liberty does, in our harbor or in that of an emerging global city or country? I'm not sure of this piece's meaning, but somehow I feel like it fits our culture's ideals and best intentions - as well as echoing da Vinci's Vitruvian Man. Would it be scary? Awe-inspiring? A la Ayn Rand?
These are three views from the end of my beach chair.
A few weeks ago I went to Italy for a vacation. Positano is a tiny fishing village on the Med. Capri is just off the coast, a short and bumpy boat ride away. What an interesting corner of the world. Most of the time that I spent on the beach, I was semi-busy painting in my watercolor book. Mostly just slopping around. This is a page of color thumbs.
A view of Positano from my balcony. When I first got to Positano it rained like mad for two days. The streets were empty. The rain beat down hard on the awning above me, but provided, at least some protection, while I worked hard to enjoy the sea and a coffee. In hind sight everything was wonderful, but it sucked arriving in the middle of such rain.
also from my hotel balcony.
The town church.
and the sunbathers . . . the lazy sunbathers.
Like I said mostly i was slopping and mopping this medium around. But it felt great and freeing.
It happens every year. New Yorkers wait till the fist heat wave of the summer to buy an air conditioner. Miserable and sweating, they're seen all over the city lugging around A/Cs. Just another indication that summer is really here and I should start making plans.
"This subways out of service!" We all flowed out on to the platform to wait for another train. I wandered through the crowd looking for something to hold my interest. I leaned on the staircase and sketched this trio a few times before we started talking about martial arts. Before I knew it the new train arrived and we all piled in agian
I demo pretty often in the classes I teach. Its the best way to directly communicate the process of painting, theories about light, and maybe most important, problem solving. Students love to see their teacher sweat. This demo was done with your basic classroom crayon. I'm really enjoying working with it because of the lack of drying time and easy layering. The Raven is something I brought in from my own small sculpture collection. It's a replica of a piece in the MET. I've had my eye on it for years and Nicole got it for me as a gift. He shares a table in my living room with few house plants. I love the way he looks next to the leaves and pots . . . another idea for a still life.
Detroit Rock City!!!
Last week, I flew out to Detroit to do a demo for Don Kís class at the College of Creative Studies. I spent a few days with Don in his new place. I donít think there were many moments that Don and I werenít laughing. But if we werenít laughing, we were kvetching about our deep personal problems and fears. As of now, his house is almost completely empty. Kate and the kids are still back in California and itís obvious that Don isnít going to move in until they arrive. There isnít a plate, nor a cup and saucer in the joint, there are few opportunities to sit down on a cushioned piece of furniture, and his room is a holy mess. Its a manís place right now and Don and I let it all hang out. I had a blast and felt like I was thirteen again. Thanks Donno.
As for the Demo . . . it went really well. The department provided a wonderful young woman named Alyssa as a model, the studio was packed with what seemed like the whole department and painting felt pretty easy that day.
I must say, as well, that the students at CCS are very nice people and the few professors I met were gracious, dedicated and I must say . . . talented!!!!
Thanks for everything Don, Dave, Gil, Pat, and Eric.