Showing posts with label anatomy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label anatomy. Show all posts

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

No Neck Stone Carving

Cari Amici (Dear Friends),

This may sound really stupid, but while I knew that I was struggling with the proportions for the chest on my marble sculpture “Gymnast”, I failed to see the obvious. The girl had no neck! This is not acceptable on a female figure, and rarely even on a male.

Part of the problem is that if you tilt your head forward as if to touch your chin to your chest and then extend your upper arm until it is horizontal with the ground, your chin will be lower than the top edge of your arm (as seen in profile). Go ahead. Try it. I will wait . . .

So, I had been trying to dig down inside my figure, between her arms, and make her chest more slender so as to give some shape to her breasts. A gymnast is not usually well endowed there, but I do want a shapely figure somewhere between abstraction and realism. And regardless of whether you see any part of the human anatomy from certain viewpoints, they still are there and must be accounted for -- at least in the style of figurative art that I am carving.

What triggered the ‘Eureka!’ moment was indeed my frustration in wondering why it seemed that her boobs were so far down from her chin, like an older woman’s might be. I knew the breasts had to be seen under the horizontal arm, and yet, the space inside just felt too long! Well, I also know from my experiences in figure drawing that my emotions or intuition need to be heeded. One of my art teachers once told me after I complained that my drawing felt wrong, “We cannot draw feelings; we can only draw lines, shapes, and tones.” I responded that while I understood what he was saying, my ‘feeling’ was my first clue that something was wrong with the lines, shapes, or tones, even when my spatially analytical thoughts were not catching up with my emotion.

Another teacher came up behind me while I was drawing once and said, “Your legs are too long.” I should have given him my Grandpa Mike’s retort about how everyone’s legs are perfectly long enough to start on the ground and go up until they make an ass out of themselves, but I refrained. I was trying to learn, afterall . . . However, and this was another very important lesson I learned: when you notice one problem, step back to analyze the entire situation before you make a correction to make sure that you have discovered the REAL problem. In the case of my long legs, yes, the instructor was correct in that compared to the reclining torso that I had drawn, the legs were too long. However, upon evaluation, I realized that my task had been to draw this reclining figure to a long dimension of 25 cm. Had I shortened the legs, my figure might have been in proportion, but much too short for the assignment! In this case, my solution turned out to be to leave the legs alone and instead widen the torso and head.

Note: the reason that this particular fix was important is because I needed to learn how to create the figure in the size that I wanted, not just something that looked good by itself. For example, if I had been drawing a model in a specific pose to fit into a multi-figure design for a painting, I would have needed her to be exactly the size she needed to be to work with the rest of my larger composition. Sure, if I get a drawing I like, but it is not the right size, I can enlarge or reduce it during a copying process to get what I need, but why not do it right the first time?


Allora, upon examination, I realized that the “Gymnast” needed to have smaller deltoids, not only to fit her frame, but also to help me position the neck. These first two images show the green crayon marks that I made for the new size. I was a bit nervous about this, since I had thought the shoulders were looking good, especially from the back view. When I make significant changes like this, I tend to let it sit awhile, at least overnight. I like to approach the sculpture with a fresh eye to see if my marks FEEL wrong after having been away for a while. It is an interesting mind game sometimes because we have a tendency to get used to what we see before us to the point that it becomes the norm and change begins to feel wrong.


Once I feel confident that my changes will be good, I tend to get out the diamond blade and be quick with it. I have discovered that if I do not make the correction quickly after a lot of thinking and seeing, I tend to repeat my error on a smaller scale. I mean that if I creep up on the correction, removing stone slowly until I work my way down to the line, that part of my brain that does not like change has time to convince me that my correction is too extreme. And I find myself backing out of what I know needs to be done. Sometimes caution simply prolongs the agony.


As I said before, in 3-dimensional art, the sculptor must make all views work. Lowering the collar bones helps dramatically with the chest. Even if the viewer will not see this part so much, it needs to work. And I must be careful to carve the slope over the trapezius at the top of the shoulder down to the protruding collarbone because of the hunching posture, while still keeping a rib cage that is believable for a young girl’s figure.


In this semi-back view, you may see that she is starting to have a neck. And in the last image, I have that lovely feeling of not being able to remember how the shoulders looked before the cuts. I still have work to do, but it is nice to be back on track.



P.S. For those hoping that I will soon get back to my life and writings about Italy, please bear with me. I had to cancel my trip there this May and June to finish up projects and attend to personal things going on in my life right now. But I will be back in bella Italia in December and cannot wait to bring you new stories and images.

Monday, December 28, 2009

Anatomy and Line

Cari Amici (Dear Friends),

Although I have not spoken much about this, I am not trying to make a copy in marble of an actual human being. While I am thinking about anatomy and using real bodies for references, I am constantly looking for that beautiful line.

The depressing thing about doing art of a more representational style is that people judge the piece for what it is not more than what it is. I mean that the tighter a work gets towards recognizable, the more people critique it for the artist’s mistakes. If would not matter if someone creating an exact replica of a specific person that was 99% accurate (on a scientist’s terms I suppose). The viewer’s eye would immediately find that 1% inaccurate part and it would ruin the rest of the effort.


It was not until my first visit to the Benson Sculpture Garden in Loveland, Colorado, about a decade ago, that I realized that there was a limit to how far I wanted to depict reality in my own work. Too much reality bored me. Art is in the details, but the KIND of details makes a world of difference. In Italy, especially, I have been learning to understand the difference between art and copying.


So, anyway, these images that follow show you how I am inspired by Nature’s anatomy, but that I am seeking a line that flows beautifully. In the latter two images, I have drawn the line of the legs that are covered up by the hands. This not only helps me to shape the legs underneath the arms and hands, but also helps me know how close to carve the hands and how much more marble I must remove.

The most difficult thing to do in stone carving is to have two things touch without overlapping in a weird way or becoming too far apart.

Enjoy your New Year’s celebration.



Thursday, December 24, 2009

Marble Hair

Cari Amici (Dear Friends),

I have not yet decided just how realistic I want to go with the stone carving “The Gymnast.” I know that my style tends towards realism, but I am not necessarily thinking strictly in those terms when I work. And I tend to use hair as a compositional device more than as a depiction of reality.

That said, I still find inspiration in Nature and models. In this case, I have been using my most available model. And I have a lot of hair. I put it up into a ponytail and moved my head about, looking in the mirror and touching my head to see how the hair fell. Often I see better with my fingertips.

Also, there is so much symmetry in this pike pose that I wanted the hair, along with the toes, to be obviously asymmetrical. You may see in the first image that I have redrawn the skull to a more proportionate size. I had left so much stone around the head because I had not yet decided on how I wanted the hair to fall. But it was time to reduce the size of the head so that I could continue to work the rest of the stone sculpture.


If I let something go for too long, my brain will start to make order out of the disproportion and I will no longer see my error as such. At this point, I am working the masses of the hair only from three sides, still allowing myself to change my mind as I go along. The trick is to shape the form as I reduce the mass of marble.

Happy Birthday, Mom!






Thursday, January 3, 2008

Brains in Art




Above (top): Internet found image of Michelangelo's "Creation of Adam" fresco panel on the Sistine Chapel in the Vatican Museum. Below that: From the article in the Guardian: Detail from the Transfiguration of Christ by Gerard David showing a resemblance to a section of the brain (right)


Brainwave casts new light on old masters


Dear Art Fan,
I am not sure if I am allowed to do this, but I also am not sure how long news articles stay online and the following is pretty cool. So, . . . someone please tell me if I will have any bad happenings because I posted someone else's writing verbatim on my blog.
The following is an article from the United Kingdom's Guardian by Maev Kennedy. I hope you enjoy it below. During my first trip to Italia, including to the Vatican Museum, I was told the brain story regarding Michelangelo's fresco composition of the Sistine Chapel's "Creation of Adam" by a tour guide. This was the only tour I took -- promoted by Alessandro Downtown, the hostel that I stay in when in Roma. It was well worth the 15 euros! I have always been interested in art and anatomy, especially when my friend Vasily stated bluntly, "Artists, not doctors, started the study of anatomy." But then, artists do have the reputation for not following rules (It is my understanding that up until the Renaissance and perhaps even beyond it, it was against the law to defame a corpse by any kind of study of it).
Enjoy!


Maev Kennedy
Friday December 28, 2007
The Guardian

Any onlooker fleetingly imagining they spotted a human brain in the flurry of cherubs and drapery swirling around the figure of God as he stretches out a hand to raise Adam to life in Michaelangelo's [sic] famous fresco from the Sistine Chapel would probably conclude there was some malfunction in their own brain.

However, four eminent scientists are convinced the swirls are not meaningless decoration, but a transverse section of the sagittal section of a human brain.

The resemblance to a brain was first suggested by another scientist, FL Meshberger, but now Alessandro Paluzzi, Antonio Belli, Peter Bain and Laura Viva, from the neurosurgery, neurosciences and radiology departments of James Cook university hospital in Middlesbrough, Teesside, Charing Cross hospital in London and Southampton University, have dissected his theory and tracked down more brains in masterpieces by other Renaissance painters. "The idea came to me while looking at Raffaello's Transfiguration. Being a neurosurgeon I could immediately see a brain in the painting," Paluzzi said.

Partly as a joke to entertain sceptical [sic] colleagues, he and the team went on a brain trawl, and found many other examples. The team is convinced the artists were fascinated by the scientific discoveries being made by anatomists, but their theories had to be concealed in the imagery of their paintings, particularly when their clients were so often senior clergy who might see their scientific interests as blasphemous or even heretical, an offence punishable by death. The study, Brain imaging in the Renaissance, features in the Journal of the Royal Society of Medicine.


The Guardian's story


Michelangelo and Humor