December 28, 2012
Reason is essentially beautiful and thus can never take (strictly my opinion) another human form than a woman’s.
Reason is individually defined and never in danger to be universally expelled from life, hence the title (‘La Décapitation de la Dame-Raison’) merely adverts to personal loss of logic metaphorically depicted as a Renaissance style beheading.
The majestic charm reason exerts beyond its use rests in the graceful sinuation of the road one must cross in its pursuit. This path is the teacher without whose assistance rarely can one achieve a genuine understanding of one’s mind, the sole way to conquer sound judgement itself. Higher than reason lays its experience.
The above sort of philosophical musings,condensed between Christmas frenzy and New Year’s Eve preparations, justify the nascence of my latest drawing I hope will be leniently received by whatever audience it may attract. The theme is obvious and finds explanation in the previous thoughts while the graphic gathers all my dilettante skill to an outcome you evaluate.
December 19, 2012
Remember the slightly eerie art project I’ve embarked upon a few months ago?
That’s the outcome, slightly unclear with the bad quality of the above photo and the pink tint imposed by the blog’s theme. Not exactly the most astonishingly great result we’ve been expecting to produce after a 4 months labor but, giving the time we spent on its bottom half (or rather the lack of it) I’m not as embarrassed as I should be for the blatant faults here visible. After all, I’m contented enough to post it and pack it a gift to my mentor.
Do you believe he’ll least appreciate our strive?
August 1, 2012
Et voila! Not exactly the masterpiece an esteemed critic would accept being hanged beside renowned masterpieces in a modern-art gallery but nevertheless a work I’m proud of since it represents surreal elements projected from my… freakish mind with a clarity and softness barely now achieved. Hope you’ll come to find it aesthetically pleasing upon gazing the above picture of a yet unfinished “Empire of the Mind” (which obviously requires extra details, improvement hither and tither, a final polishing up and my hideous signature somewhere bottom-right). I’ve a feeling it’s going to be the beginning of a prolific period in this particular domain. Or at least I hope, in which case I pray the divinity in charge would be graceful enough to gratify it.
About the actual drawing, one can easily observe Vivien Leigh’s angelic figure dominating the composition as the main and single character depicted; she’s a face I often use to start an artistic project giving my infatuation with her intriguing persona.
Here, the “Gone with the Wind” actress unluckily had her head blown up to release the surreal world within it; elements like the greedy skull swallowing the flow of her life, the winding storm near the Ferris wheel spinning little unreadable words corresponding to the 7 sins, the flying dove on the left side and a few others should enhance the expressiveness of the theme but are also ulterior adds to my main idea. Clouds of smoke link the realistic with the inner explosion of fantastic ingredients; two Gothic towers frame “Vivien”; the cracking hole in her forehead is bound to be the viewer’s point of interest.
No surprise I genuinely adored building it all, outlining form from white paper, concentrating a whole bombastic perspective in a pencil’s tip, more or less successfully; always a wonder to open your mind and make its phantasmagorias visible to the public.
So let me know how you like it (or how you don’t, why not?).
June 26, 2012
“Ah! thou wouldst not suffer me to kiss thy mouth, Iokanaan. Well! I will kiss it now. I will bite it with my teeth as one bites a ripe fruit. Yes, I will kiss thy mouth, Iokanaan. I said it; did I not say it? I said it. Ah! I will kiss it now. But wherefore dost thou not look at me, Iokanaan? Thine eyes that were so terrible, so full of rage and scorn, are shut now. Wherefore are they shut? Open thine eyes! Lift up thine eyelids, Iokanaan! Wherefore dost thou not look at me? Art thou afraid of me, Iokanaan, that thou wilt not look at me? And thy tongue, that was like a red snake darting poison, it moves no more, it speaks no words, Iokanaan, that scarlet viper that spat its venom upon me. It is strange, is it not? How is it that the red viper stirs no longer? Thou wouldst have none of me, Iokanaan. Thou rejectedest me. Thou didst speak evil words against me. Thou didst bear thyself toward me as to a harlot, as to a woman that is a wanton, to me, Salome, daughter of Herodias, Princess of Judaea! Well, I still live, but thou art dead, and thy head belongs to me. I can do with it what I will. I can throw it to the dogs and to the birds of the air. That which the dogs leave, the birds of the air shall devour. Ah, Iokanaan, Iokanaan, thou wert the man that I loved alone among men! All other men were hateful to me. But thou wert beautiful! Thy body was a column of ivory set upon feet of silver. It was a garden full of doves and lilies of silver. It was a tower of silver decked with shields of ivory. There was nothing in the world so white as thy body. There was nothing in the world so black as thy hair. In the whole world there was nothing so red as thy mouth. Thy voice was a censer that scattered strange perfumes, and when I looked on thee I heard strange music. Ah! wherefore didst thou not look at me, Iokanaan? With the cloak of thine hands, and with the cloak of thy blasphemies thou didst hide thy face. Thou didst put upon thine eyes the covering of him who would see God. Well, thou hast seen thy God, Iokanaan, but me, me, thou didst never see me. If thou hadst seen me thou hadst loved me. I saw thee, and I loved thee. Oh, how I loved thee! I love thee yet, Iokanaan. I love only thee. I am athirst for thy beauty; I am hungry for thy body; and neither wine nor apples can appease my desire. What shall I do now, Iokanaan? Neither the floods nor the great waters can quench my passion. I was a princess, and thou didst scorn me. I was a virgin, and thou didst take my virginity from me. I was chaste, and thou didst fill my veins with fire. Ah! ah! wherefore didst thou not look at me? [She kisses the head.] Ah! I have kissed thy mouth, Iokanaan, I have kissed thy mouth. There was a bitter taste on thy lips. Was it the taste of blood? Nay; but perchance it was the taste of love. They say that love hath a bitter taste. But what matter? what matter? I have kissed thy mouth.” (Salome, Oscar Wilde)
This is the monologue from which I extracted the idea for my newest art work, a Biblical Salome bearing the foxy features of Vivien Leigh, embellished, I hope, with a sort of kokoshnik on top, and sensually holding the decapitated head of John the Baptist (Mathias Lauridsen) as to converge their lips with the smallest turning of the neck.
Alas, the outcome didn’t actually fulfill my enthusiastic expectations and I’ve found myself in the position of editing the original charcoal on paper with a series of programs meant to enhance its artistic quality, the result being the two shown images.
Personally, I find the latter most charming but I’m more interested in your opinion on it.
Which is the winner?
June 13, 2012
My geography teacher has this very innovative way of slackening the atmosphere with a chiefly related to culture game whose target is to answer the two given questions for “a 10 [highest mark in the register] and a bar of chocolate”. Most amusing, I assure you.
SO, the reason why I informed you about his habit even if today was a stay-home-and-doze day as my high-school was closed, is because…
While I was just hanging around, laying on the sofa and thinking random subjects, one of my teacher’s premium inquiries simply popped up out of the blue and mysteriously contributed to arousing my appetite for drawing the thing implied: a modern, beauteous Pieta. (the question regarded the number of Pietas done by my favorite sculptor Michelangelo during his life, ta-dah!)
Pieta’s fine features and the simple, slightly austere head-piece which graciously covered her hair, trickling over her thin neck and further, had always drawn me to the otherwise too religious for my tastes statue. There was something in the supple waves of her veil that captured my imagination and let it drift on the velvety waters of river Arno or Tiber, by which I assumed the artist himself was inspired.
Implicitly, the dramatically dead Jesus Virgin Mary holds in her lap was definitely (in the detriment of my piety) eclipsed. But that’s a whole other story, more proper for a separate post.
The main point is that talented little me (I do tend to call myself “little”,despite my age, with a satirical tone) urged her pens and markers to set free the form of a young, alluring Snow White (haloed with tons of lace visible in the picture beneath) from the silent blank paper sheet.
Behold the result of a prolific day off:
June 4, 2012
As I have acquainted you with my sort of art in the former post which, thank you, has recorded quite a nice number in audience, proud little me resolved to inform you all of the most recent project undertaken , in a premiere partnership with my declared muse, Diana T., a 1-meters-tall-some-50-centimeters-wide drawn replica of Laurie Lipton‘s “Santa Muerte” (which, since I’m reticent at a possible comparison, won’t appear here, facing our petty variants).
With no further introduction, in a lugubrious atmosphere, I present you the obviously unfinished sketch depicting Mr. Death at the beginning of his highly detailed majesty:
The sympathetic skull with damaged teeth and an oddly rich hair exhibiting a volume vying the girls’ who advertise shampoos was delineated by Diana, while I chose, having a great attraction to jewels of any kind, to humbly resume at the bony crown…
The Earth is also her merit…
…and let us not forget the complicated head-piece made of terribly minute lace which shall be Diana’s dramatizing subjects for the next month (“Damned points! They’ll have my fingers bleed over them, not to mention my eyes blinding in the process of staring!”). In exchange for letting her do it, I’ll be forced to torment my poor right hand with some thousand small skeletons printed on Death’s now-not-quite-visible robe, just so you’re informed of my future martyrdom.
June 3, 2012
Well, just pardon my unpolished artistic skills and the arrogance which ultimately lead to my posting these here, but due to the whole “Snow White and the Huntsman” propaganda preceding the actual movie I have unleashed my modest charcoal +black marker on some random pieces of paper with the seen outcome of two pretty flawed drawings I just had to share… Pride is too big a sin not to be advertised outside one’s private space. 🙂 Least in this particularity of nature I can compare with the gorgeous Evil Queen who clearly is the inspiration behind all this. She’s, in the end, the quite sympathetic character played by beauteous Charlize Theron: a dark seductress whom I’ve preferred to the dull heroine before “it was cool”, that is since the Disney film when I remember actually weeping after her lost pulchritude in the most quaint context, mum trying to explain how bad people are bound to perish,etc, while I only cared of her attractive shallowness. What can I say? fierce, dangerous women are my declared weakness.
So the first eccentric arrangement of marker strokes, having traits and a mimic borrowed from the muse I think I’ve previously mentioned on the sidebar, my friend Diana T., and the latter attempt to interpret the majestic fairytale sovereign, this time almost shamelessly copying the SWATH poster, are my newest addition to the pile of unpretentious artistic creations. I’ll humbly refrain from commenting furthermore.