Back to Paper

Dagon, 2.5" x 3.5" by Elaine Cheung

Sooo... I gave it a go.  I don't like technology after all.  Confirmed.  Fini.  Done.  It was great for awhile.  I did a portrait of my friend's dog....  so, it's not da Vinci.  Then I did a few sketches while out and about and I have to say, I don't like the feel of it.  There isn't the friction of the pencil on paper, there's no tactile sensation.  I can't get my lines fine enough.  The picture that comes out is way too colorful and because of the back lighting from the screen, everything glows.  It's just all wrong.  I give up on technology.  Technology is great for word processing.  It's great for watching netflix and looking things up on wikipedia, but for art, it is lost on me.

I think technology and I were doomed from the start.  Even when I was in school, taking notes for run of the mill classes, I would only write with a fountain pen.  No modern ball point pens for me!  It had to be ink.  And I preferred the non-cartridge type pen, the ones with the ink bladder.  I would have used a quill and ink at the time, but I couldn't find a source for tail feathers and it would have been burdensome to be sharpening quills in the middle of class anyway.  Still, I have to say, it was very, very enjoyable to write with a fountain pen, a pleasure. 

So, these last few weeks, I've completely gone back to just pen and paper.  It's simple, portable, infinitely more pleasurable than tapping a stylus on a glass screen.  And, there up above, to my utter relief, the simplest of pleasures, is my latest work... Dagon.

From Watercolors to Pixels

Sketch for The Last Supper, Juda's Head by da Vinci

Many artists in the past used watercolor and pen as a sketching tool out in the field to record roughly major shadows, shapes, and line.  They would then return to the studio with their quick watercolor sketch and work up an oil painting from these sketches.  The choice of oils in the past was mainly for its durability (or permanence) and also for its flexibility as a medium.  Watercolor, on the other hand, being done on paper, was lightweight, not permanent, a rather fleeting medium.  It was also less expensive and more portable.  Hence, it was the perfect thing to take into the field to use for a quick study.  At some point, watercolor became more than just a tool; watercolors are now finished pieces, beautiful in and of themselves.  Maybe the invention of more permanent, fade-resistant colors, archival papers, and treated glass/plexiglas allowed people to display these more fragile works of art. 

So... I was thinking about this today as I was doing a digital sketch, instead of a watercolor one... *gasp*... and I... liked... it... yikes!  I never thought I would ever say that about anything digital.  Technology has so progressed that I was sketching with a stylus on a touchscreen.  Pixels are evermore portable, flexible, and in some ways, more permanent, plus infinitely pliable.  What's not to love?  I'm going to work at it until I can sketch like Master da Vinci up there with my stylus.  Will post my work later!!! 

Gypsy-esque

Ship Clouds by Ciurlionis 1906

J called me a gypsy once because she said I had the "disease of moving." (Her exact words)  It isn't so, I argued at the time.  I was settled, I thought.  Yet, as I gaze out on the ocean, I feel that familiar tug.  I like leaving things behind.  I like starting over.  I like moving.  I know I complain about the packing and about having to learn all over again where the markets are or where the post office is, but the fact is that it is kind of fun.  And then getting to live in different apartments or houses, each with its own character in different neighborhoods; well, it's charming, interesting... and I feel as if I am assuming someone else' life for a little while. 

I suppose she is a little bit right.  She herself has lived in the same place for decades, hence her observation.  I keep asking myself why it is that I want to move in the first place and I cannot seem to find the reason, other than maybe I just feel restless, and that is really not even an answer.  It doesn't faze me in the least to pack it all up (or sell it all), plane ticket and passport in hand to some faraway place I've never been and calmly settle there... maybe forever this time?  It seems a bit callous.  What about roots?  What about family?  What about friendship?  Maybe it was because of my own father who left home one day, at the age of 18 (I think), and sailed the seas for years and years.  From Hong Kong, he sailed all over the world: Europe, Hawaii, America.  I admire that about him and maybe I inherited some of that restlessness too.  There is something about the sea that makes us wonder about what lies just a little beyond.  Maybe it is that we cannot comprehend the vastness of the ocean and so need to seek other lands.  Or maybe the water is a little bit hypnotic... perhaps the movement of the water awakens in our deepest subconscious a need for movement and change.  Is it possible that land-locked people prefer to stay put?

Of Operas and Language

Mary Cassatt in de Loge

What are the chances of having mentioned in conversation, twice in the same day by two different people, the composer Wagner?  I am no musician, though I've dabbled in various instruments.  And, I generally do not go around talking about composers or operas.
Yet, on that very same day, I struck up a conversation with an older fellow at the bookstore (which, I must emphasize, is quite extraordinary in and of itself as I usually have my headphones on...).  At first, it was the spiral staircase in Chambord designed by Leonardo da Vinci, then it was Wagner, the German composer and his militant style of music.  He was convinced that Wagner's music could only have come from the German language with the majority of its words in consonant endings as opposed to the Italian operas which are far more beautiful, owing, of course, to the Italian language with its vowel endings.  I have never studied Italian, but truly, thinking of the few words I know, it does seem that there are many words which end in vowels (fettucine, alfredo, spaghetti...).  The reason for Italian being the most suitable language for opera is that operas tend to need long extended notes.  Vowels lend themselves quite well to being extended indefinitely (one can sing aaaaaaaaaahhhhhh) while consonants end most abruptly and cannot be so extended.  He is absolutely correct.  Of course, when I mentioned this to a friend, she said, of course, I thought this was common knowledge.... Well, maybe to Europeans who must as a matter of course be polyglots!  But to an American, who generally isn't... I thought it was a poignant observation. Add to that, that Italian operas are more beautiful.  Besides, Americans are biased when it comes to language; we do not like to strain the language centers in our brains and thus pronounce that  the world should only have to learn English, it being the "universal" language.  I'm sure the French thought the same thing once when the French language was considered to be the educated language.  According to wikipedia, "from the 17th century to the mid 20th century, French served as the pre-eminent international language of diplomacy and international affairs as well as a lingua franca among the educated classes of Europe."  And, where will we English speakers be tomorrow?  Are there great operas in our future?  Nope, too many consonants!

I love Vienna!!

Jacob Jordaens, Feast of the Bean King, 1640-45

I had an extraordinary amount of free time last Wednesday.  So, I sat on the beach in the morning, gazing out at the ocean in relative quiet.  Kaimana Beach is my favorite mostly because the hotel shades a good portion of the beach well until noon.  And, because most people like to sunbathe, I get the shady part nearly all to myself...  I mean, who goes to the beach to sit in the shade anyway?  But, then a woman with her son came over and we struck up a conversation.  It turned out that she was from Vienna, doing a home exchange.  I told her Vienna remains dear to my heart, being the first European city I had ever visited.  The one thing I missed the most was Viennese coffee.  Throughout all of Vienna, from the hotel to the grocery to the cafés, without fail, the coffee is the best I have ever had.  It is bold, aromatic... but not like the ubiquitous Starbucks, burnt, too strong, with a horrible acid aftertaste.  After drinking Viennese coffee, I could not touch American brews for months.  And the memory of it after all these years is still there.  We were living in Boston at the time and Boston was not a Starbucks city.  It was a Dunkin' Donuts city.  The coffee is weak, sweet, and creamy... and delicious with a nice donut.  Vienna ruined it for me.  I could not drink Dunkin' Donuts for months afterward.  It tasted to me like hot water.  A little on the chemical side.  I admit, I go often to Starbucks nowadays, as well as Seattle's Best (owned by Starbucks, of course) and Coffee Bean, and I order my iced concoction or latte... but something is missing, something else.  The coffee is bland or burnt, but more than that it is also the coffee house itself.  What is missing is the Viennese decadence, the gilding, the elaborate decorated interiors, the beautiful cakes evoking a long history of cake-eating and coffee drinking on slow slow afternoons, discussing art and life with friends.  American coffee houses have become work places, second offices, not places to gather and chat.  I can't tell you the number of dirty looks I have gotten when I disturb the quiet at one particular place (which I won't mention the name of).  And, I hate it.  I hate that people use it for study and work instead of a place to socialize.  Our society has gone completely cock-eyed.  It is no longer a refuge for pure relaxed socialization, or maybe it never was?  Is it any wonder why Americans feel so isolated?  Or overworked? Or feel that having that nice beautiful cake is a "sin"?  Why, as a matter of course, people won't order an "eis caffee," which is not an ice coffee, but rather a cold coffee with two scoops of vanilla ice cream?  Hmmm.... I dream of Vienna!

David Hockney, continued

The Orrery by Joseph Wright of Derby, 1766
Take a look at the painting on the left... does it not remind you of a photograph?  Could you not imagine the scene staged and lit?

If David Hockney's theory has merit, then there are many implications.  Take, for instance, our veneration of the Old Masters.  I never thought they used lenses and/or cameras to project the three dimensional world into two dimensions.  We were taught that they were great masters of drawing, that they could draw anything by eye-balling, and it was this skill which they built upon that allowed them to become masters of painting.  It also means that the chiaroscuro effect that we associate with many Renaissance artists, namely, Caravaggio (as Hockney points out), was simply an artifact -- that in using a lens, subjects had to be strongly lit in order to be seen, and thus cast deep shadows which were then simply captured in painting.  In other words, this rather sudden concern for realism was the consequence of a technological innovation and not a purely aesthetic movement.  Ironically, it was the invention of the photographic print that spurred artists to found the Impressionist movement.  Artists did not want to imitate a print... in a sense, they wished to remain relevant and prove that they could do something only a human being could do, and not some piece of machinery.  So, if Hockney is correct, then artists of the Renaissance were capturing the two dimensional image they saw projected onto their canvas.... they were the "developers" of the image.  They fixed the image onto paper or canvas using paint/pencil/ink, and were then replaced by a copper plate and some mercury and silver when the daguerreotype was invented.     Ironic, isn't it?  Could it be so?  Were artists simply performing a mechanical type of work?  Were they simply trained to paint... by numbers, so to speak?  Is art as expression of an aesthetic sense only a "modern" concern caused in part by inventions such as cameras and now computers?  Is art (and literature and music and dance and all other creative endeavors) all that is left to assert our humanity?  And, if so, shouldn't we prioritize these endeavors instead of pushing them aside, thinking that they are useless, frivolous pastimes for the elite?  Isn't it time to reclaim our humanity?

David Hockney

Caravaggio, 1598-9, Judith Beheading Holofernes

I just finished David Hockney's Secret Knowledge, cover to cover. Intriguing. If you have not read it, I highly recommend it. I don't totally agree with everything he writes, but certainly, his thesis merits deeper investigation, even more than what he has already found. Basically, he claims that early in the 15th century, artists used lenses (a camera obscura) to help them draw and paint the world. And that even if they had not actually used the lens to draw, certainly they were influenced by paintings that were drawn with the aid of a lens; ultimately, paintings have a certain "look" when painted with the aid of a camera obscura. From my own experience, I can tell you, that certainly painting from a photograph is absolutely, 100% different than painting from life. There is a certain look to it that betrays its photographic lineage. It could be that when one is working from a photo, it feels as if there is no time limit... so, naturally, the hand slows down, the lines become static and too sure. Live models are fleeting. Muscles settle and move, expressions change, fruit decay, light fluctuates. But, mostly, you see differently. I see objects and can feel they are dimensional, they continue beyond what one can see, they continue to exist in time as well. Photographs are flattened and the dimension of time is lost, and it shows even when one tries to paint them. Hockney says the "look" of the camera obscura is the chiaroscuro, the dark deep shadowy background with the intense lighted foreground, all figures nearly lined up on a plane. Also, the sudden development of the fleeting expression, such as the smile. And, now when I see paintings, I cannot help but see them in this new light. I used to go often to the Norton Simon in Pasadena and think the same thing... why weren't there smiling people in paintings? Then again, a smile is a little disturbing. It would seem a little psychotic if a smile were perpetually frozen in a painting since smiles are supposed to be fleeting.  Smiles are natural expressions of joy/menace/deceit...  Why, even Pepperidge Farms had to leave some goldfish unsmiley. So, why is it that people always want to capture people smiling in photos?

Jungles and Cities

Alfred Russell Wallace

Where to travel to...? I do not have the time or money to travel to any region in the world. Not many people have that luxury, but I was thinking about where I would like to visit in the future and I just realized how much I've changed. I used to dream about walking through deep jungles, looking for beetles for my bug collection and bird watching, kind of like Alfred Russell Wallace, not Darwin, but Wallace. Here is a man after my own heart, studying spiritualism and coming up with spectacular theories about the origins of life. Yet, he is not famous the way Darwin was. Why is that? Was it because of his interest in spiritualism? Did the scientific community reject his work because they thought he was just a bit loony? It is as if he were swept under the rug and became a mere footnote in the history of science. But... anyway, I admired Alfred Russell Wallace and thought I should like to travel as he did, through the jungles of the Amazon and through the Malay archipelago, coming up with all-encompassing theories about life. Certainly, I think that is where science fails today. It is completely disjointed and fragmented. No longer are scientists supposed to even think about theories. They are supposed to work on one minute problem for their entire career... for instance, one might spend one's life studying metabolic rates of emperor penguins or tortoises... And, this is problematic in the sense that one cannot see the forest for the trees. But that is exactly what modern man has become, a specialist in the worst sense, completely missing out on the entire problem because he is so focused on one small minute aspect of this entire universe.

What was I saying.... yes, I just figured that I no longer have the willingness to go through jungles. Suddenly, I think I can no longer endure such things as mosquitoes or humidity. Suddenly, visiting cities sounds more than attractive and being in a cool place is bliss. And, how in the world did this happen? What is it about getting older that makes me less willing to traipse through a jungle? Theoretically, I would love to visit Thailand or Bali or Vietnam, but every time I look at a map, my mind wanders to the cities of Europe where it is cooler and I can get a cup of coffee in an over-priced cafe in the middle of a busy sidewalk. I dream of walking through manicured gardens, looking at marble statues. But... then, what of the wild places? Have they fallen away to an irretrievable past?