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.

Poetry - really?

Cari Amici (Dear Friends),

The Wood Floors

Cold nights. Warm afternoons.
Inside this old house it remains
Cold in the daylight, warmer in the evenings --
Echoing the weather
Like a lingering memory.

Candles and incense always burning --
As though anticipating a séance.
The room looks old, but not ancient.
Sometimes familiar and cozy,
Occasionally haunting.

The sound of pots clashing come from
The nearby kitchen -- followed by
A white and black skinny cat
Emerging from the cupboard under the sink.
He doesn’t live here.
There’s a hole in the back wall
Leading to underneath the house.
The house sits above the ground --
About two and a half feet.
A place where animals come to die
I was told when I moved in.

He told me once my house smelled old --
That I even smelled like my house.
As I sit here alone in my candlelit room,
I think about his comment;
Then blow out the flames
And listen to the sounds of
My footsteps creaking
On the wood floors.

~ Kelly Seiler
Persona magazine, 1987

I had not ever written poetry until I met Darryl Smyers in 1986, my senior year in college. He had past-the-shoulders dark hair and even darker eyes. He wore a long black trenchcoat and red high-top tennis shoes. It was hard not to notice him around a campus in Texas and I was aware of who he was before I met him. He was also the editor of Persona, the annual creative literary magazine of Southwest Texas State University (they have since lost the misnomer “Southwest”).

Darryl introduced himself and asked me to be on the committee, with a stipulation that I write at least one poem for the issue. I almost balked, but he had collected an interesting group of people for the committee and I was intrigued. (And we all had such a blast!) He also later traveled to Seguin, Texas, with me while I photographed a farm family that I knew from a college friend back my first year when I had been a math major. Some of those photographs were chosen by Darryl to be included in the publication, including on the cover.

Poetry did not come easy for me (as things rarely do) and Darryl was without a doubt a patient, but straight-to-the-point instructor. His basic advice was to get more specific. The hand-written notes in the margins of my first feeble attempts at poetry include his words, “Far too ambiguous; try being weirder.” and “not too many will get this. Use images to express your pain, not just simple sentences. It ain’t easy, not nothing is.”

I had been focusing on some personal sap based on a failed romance that I was still recovering from and after that particular critique, I switched topics. I hope you enjoy my perhaps-final attempt at poetry, the description of the house I rented during this time, and Darryl’s perception of me in it. And Darryl’s advice is good for the visual arts as well. Try being weirder… ha. Do not gloss over with sentiment. Get into the meat of what you feel. Be specific. Describe your own path in your own terms.

P.S. Incidentally, I wrote the first four lines of “The Wood Floors” after that critique. Darryl scrawled in response, “This kicks ass. Concrete imagery, more of this -- less of I, me, my, mine.” Later, another friend Jamshid said that that explained how the first part did not really feel the same as the rest.

It was this poem that taught me how to spell ‘occasion’ -- Darryl told me after publication that my error of the double Ss made it almost to the end, when one of the professors caught it. Funny how these things stick in one’s memory while other stuff fades.

Bug Spawning on Marble

Cari Amici (Dear Friends),

Yesterday morning, I set my stone carving tools on my work table, noticed the dew, and bent down to blow off a few small insects from the table, and then turned around to take a look at my marble sculpture, “Gymnast.” She was covered with tiny black insects! What a sight!


Was this because of our recent rain after a long drought? Or was this just some coincidental random insect spawning? Does anyone know what kind of bug this is? They are tiny creatures with wings, not little black ants as I first suspected (but then fire ants pretty much take care of those and I am stepping in their beds far more often than I find entertaining).


I found myself more curious about what kind of bug this was than disturbed and went into the house to get my camera. And the good thing about working on a fairly large sculpture is that I have plenty of other areas that need attention. So, I worked on the base yesterday morning. The insects were almost gone during my evening carving shift (I work indoors during the scorching middle of the day). They were completely gone this morning. Any clues, anyone?

Valentina Charcoal Drawing

Cari Amici (Dear Friends),

I have been sifting through my piles of life drawings from models that I drew in Italy and trying to figure out what I can do with them. I want to keep many of them as studies or pose ideas for future multi-figure works that are brewing in my head. Others I simply like as they are and consider them finished works.

This next charcoal drawing is one of those. Usually I put the dates on my work, having a memory that focuses more on emotion than data. This one I did not, but I suspect that I drew this figure art in early 2009 when I was hosting an Open Studio for artists in Florence, Italy. If it was not 2009, then it was in 2008 near the time that I did a drawing of Francesco on this same-proportioned paper. [You may view the framed hands of Francesco here.]

I have drawn Valentina many times. She is a terrific model and a fun person. This horizontal composition of a lovely woman’s torso as she reclines with her arm resting along her body’s top edge is available framed for only $150 + $15 shipping (sales tax added, if applicable). Surround yourself with Valentina’s luscious curves…

“Sketch of Valentina”

6” x 17” (framed)
charcoal drawing on watercolor paper
copyright 2008-2011 Kelly Borsheim
$150 + $15 shipping (and maybe sales tax)

P.S. Please pardon the glare on this framed image. It is so hard to photograph some things! Here is an image before she was framed:

3-D Challenges Stone Carving

Cari Amici (Dear Friends),

When painting, the difficult part is often creating a believable figure from one vantagepoint. When working from life, this can be frustrating since even the best models inevitably move. However, when I carve stone, I do not use a model. I suspect the two major reasons would be obvious - the time involved and the dangerous flying chips.

Working in the round means that as I move around the figure, the view and the line must flow in a way that fits. Anatomy may be “wrong,” but if the artist is either lucky or clever (or both), the viewer will never think of these things and simply admire the work.

As I have mentioned before in my art newsletters and in the descriptions on individual works presented on my Web site, often the view most helpful to me as the creator of the work, is the one least likely to be seen by the viewer. That is, the view from above. In this first image, I am standing behind the “Gymnast” marble carving and looking down her rib cage to see the shape of her hips.
Not entirely happy, am I. You may see that the bum sticks out behind the figure on the left more than on the right in an unflattering way. Perhaps you may see the brown crayon mark denoting the separation of the gluts. I have drawn a pencil line to the left of this where I will carve off extra stone to remedy the form problems. I must be careful not to get too “efficient” because not all of the cheek needs to come off. It is only from that ONE vantagepoint -- that one edge -- that needs removal of material.


The next two images show different views of the same area. The first is a profile from the left and the form looks very different! Just a side note: in my markings to myself as a direct carver, the back and forth squiggles indicate places I will remove stone, while the circle is an area I wish to keep. I mark the latter sometimes because it means that I am getting close to the final surface, in relation to the areas surrounding it.


The last image is taken at eye level with the hips. Can you see that this viewpoint gives me a completely different batch of information (while lacking others)?

What a first day of summer in the North, eh?

Saint Agatha Lorenzo Lippi Blanton Museum

Cari Amici (Dear Friends),

Here is another “Boobs on a Platter” painting. Not sure why I am fascinated by these, perhaps because the whole thing seems so bizarre to me. In this painting of Saint Agatha circa 1838-44, a woman holds a sharp scissors in her hands as she gazes out of the canvas. A platter with two nude breasts on it (perky, perfectly round, and looking up!) sits on a surface in front of her. She is lushly draped and beautifully rendered.

Long ago, paintings sometimes included a timeline of a story in the imagery. For example, the main large scene in a work might depict one specific moment in a couple’s life, while a background image of the same couple was intended to show either the past or the future. This technique of repetition of subjects was understood and read correctly by the art-viewing public.



In the case of this portrait painting by Lorenzo Lippi (Florence, Italy, 1606-1665), his subject Saint Agatha is a whole woman. However, the “platter of boobs” is a repetition that gives the viewer a clue as to the horrible future of torture that awaits her. How would you enjoy severed (or any) boobs being your identifying symbol?

This oil on canvas painting “Saint Agatha” is part of the Suida-Manning Collection in the collection of The Blanton Museum of Art in Austin, Texas. It is a gorgeous painting and still in very good condition. Here is what they have posted next to this painting:

“Agatha was an early Christian martyr whose fate is here made vivid. The vividness owes not just to the cruel evidence of her torture: the picture’s scale, sharp illumination, and alluring psychology make the subject intensely present and engaging. Routine in portrayals of the kind, Agatha’s attributes and apparently unharmed physical condition here seem inconsistent and disturbing. The painting’s lovely design, rare hues and transparent layering of pigment in the draperies stand in further ironic contrast to the ostensible subject.

Half-length female figures of devotional or allegorical subject but incorporating such prurience were popular in mid-seventeenth-century Florence, partly as a conservative response to the extroverted, fully Baroque decoration of Pietro da Cortona in the Palazzo Pitti. Lippi cultivated is own idiom by returning to the precise description and sterling character of Santi di Tito’s paintings. Previously attributed to Orazio Riminaldi, and earlier Caravaggesque painter active in Pisa, this Saint Agatha has been recently been described as “one of Lippi’s most fascinating religious personalities.”

I was delighted to have been selected by artist Michael Guilmet to have one of my paintings (Songbird) featured in his video series “Feast Paintings” This is the Spring 2011 video.
http://www.feastpaintings.com/
Enjoy!

Art and Time Book Quotes

Cari Amici (Dear Friends),

I have been going through my studio’s book collection this month and wanted to share some gems of art book quotes with you…

Today’s quote is from the book by William Fleming, titled “Arts & Ideas - Eighth Edition.”

From Page 518 under “Bergson’s Theory of Time”:
The thinker who came the closest to making a clear picture of this turbulent age was the French philosopher Henri Bergson. His point of departure was a remark made by the pre-Socratic philosopher Heraclitus, who had said that one cannot step into the same river twice. Bergson cited Heraclitus in support of his theory that time was as more real than space, that the many were closer to experience than the one, and that becoming was closer to reality than being.

Bergson was critical of the intellect because it tended to reduce reality to immobility. He therefore ranked intuition as a higher faculty than reason, because through it the perception of the flow of duration was possible, and through it static, immobile quantitative facts were animated into the dynamic qualitative values of motion and change. . . .

. . . Art for Bergson is a force that frees the soul and through which one can grasp “certain rhythms of life and breath,” which compel the individual “to fall in with it, like passersby who join in a dance. Thus they compel us to set in motion, in the depth of our being, some secret chord which was only waiting to thrill.” …. The aesthetic experience is essentially an experience in time and involves an “anticipation of movement” that permits the spectator or auditor in various ways “to grasp the future in the present.” His theory of art is based on what he calls his “spiritualistic materialism,” by which finely perceived material activity awakens spiritual echoes. All is based on the “uniqueness of the moment”; and perception of the flow of time is the same as an awareness of the pulsation of life, something that is quite apart from the mechanical or lifeless matter.

Past, present, and future, in Bergson’s thought, are molded into an organic whole as “when we recall the notes of a tune melting, so to speak, into one another.” . . . But Bergson’s concept of time is not clock time with its divisions into seconds, minutes, and hours; nor is it concerned with the usual groupings of past, present, and future. These are just arbitrary conveniences, like the points on a clock past which the hands move. Time cannot be measured in such a quantitative way; it is a quality, not a substance.

The artwork pictured in this post is a carbon pencil I did from a live model while in Florence, Italy. "Joshua" is framed and available for $700.