The Bathers Cont.

I forge forward in the first instalment of the trio: my portrait of these lovely ladies, these beautiful bathers.

The bathers begin

Trifecta

M y painting prof. has assigned our next project to be a triptic series - three paintings that make up one whole. Essentially this is so broad because you can do three of anything and make a whole.

So I just sat down and watched some good online TV while fiddling with some watercolour drawings for ideas. These three are my product. (Unfortunately the images are a little muddy here..)

I tri-ed.

Waves of change

A h.
What can we say about work and time? To change for the worst like bread and milk? Or for the better, like cheese and wine?

I don't know, whatever.

This painting came from a photograph. But I didn't want it to look like a photograph. So I did lotsa stuff to it. Now I don't know.

The progression is neat to look at, though.

Watch your fingers

W rite the test.

But don't let it bite you back

Keep your fingers curled into a ball

To keep your knuckles intact.

W hen you were young you were the king of carrot flowers

and how you built a tower tumbling through the trees

In holy rattlesnakes that all fell around your feet

And this is the room

One afternoon I knew I could love you

And from above you how I sank into your soul

Into that secret place where no one dares to go

Life Drawing Session 2

A few more life drawings from today's session. This delightfully hefty model was kind of fun to do...

Elegant pondering

J ust playing around....

Isn't this light in your eyes just lovely?

My house is full of birds and pretty things

B ecause I'm so so attentive in all my classes, I sketched this little guy during... ok, I don't even remember.
It's just in my sketchbook and the picture is a little blurry unfortunately, but I like it. Perhaps it shall become a painting or something in the future.

Life Drawing Session 1

F or my drawing class we've had a few model sessions, and this is a 20 minute conte drawing from a few weeks ago.

Wavy painting

T his is a painting I just started for class last week. Definitely a work in progress.

It's based on a photograph taken by my uncle.

It's going to change drastically after this. Wooohoo

Contouristy

A contour drawing was required for home-doing this week. (This is where you draw outlines, mostly looking at the subject and not the paper. Potentially disasterous).

I walked on down to Ye Olde Port for mine. Lots of contours resembling lots of tourists. I wish they would have stood more still.

Antlers and stripes

T his is my at-home work-in-progress for the moment.

You could call it my artistic interpretation of my family trip to Park Safari if you require an explanation.

I depart, summer departs, we grow apart

G oodbye sandy beaches and eternal sunsets.

Seeing as it is september, I officially resign from my summer.

The Sand MJ

T his summer I had an extremely spiritual experience.

During one of my strolls across the sandy beach, I was wading the shallow waters with my toes and I came upon a small plastic toy.

At first glance, it looked very much like beach trash, simply washed up onto shore after being discarded by some small child, but upon further inspection I was astounded to discover it was much more than this: given the action figure's pale complexion, sunglasses, gloves and bundled body, it was very clear that I had come across a re-incarnation of the recently deceased Michael Jackson. In action figure form.

Handling him very carefully and respectfully, I hastily gave him a much needed final photo shoot before paying my last respects and re-uniting him with the great blue yonder.

In his glory

He can still sometimes be heard, avoiding paparazzi
Go forth, MJ, and be free

Summer bird

D uring my stay at the lovely Delta beach this summer vacation, I painted this bright bird. (perhaps a month ago..)

Doesn't he just squak summer?

Dissonant Sheep

A fter MUCH arranging and re-arranging, I have completed my sheep collage.

I couldn't tell you my original intentions for this little project, they were basically a desire to express my love for sheep artistically. It transformed into a very sticky creation, with potentially political implications. I called it Dissonant Sheep for this reason.

Oh Yes. Those sheep are dissonant, alright.

Groceries

F ood is simply a series of decisions.

Indulgence? The eternal dilemma of the grocery shop, my friends.

Bahhhhh

L ack of glue has postponed this collage.

Bahhhhhhhhhhhhh

The Metamorphosis

O ne morning, as Gregor Samsa was waking up from anxious dreams, he discovered that in his bed he had been changed into a monstrous verminous bug.

H e lay on his armour-hard back and saw, as he lifted his head up a little, his brown, arched abdomen divided up into rigid bow-like sections.

From this height the blanket, just about ready to slide off completely, could hardly stay in place. His numerous legs, pitifully thin in comparison to the rest of his circumference, flickered helplessly before his eyes.

“What’s happened to me,” he thought. It was no dream. His room, a proper room for a human being, only somewhat too small, lay quietly between the four well-known walls.


G regor’s glance then turned to the window. The dreary weather—the rain drops were falling audibly down on the metal window ledge—made him quite melancholy. “Why don’t I keep sleeping for a little while longer and forget all this foolishness,” he thought. But this was entirely impractical, for he was used to sleeping on his right side, but in his present state he could not get himself into this position.

N o matter how hard he threw himself onto his right side, he always rolled onto his back again. He must have tried it a hundred times, closing his eyes so that he would not have to see the wriggling legs, and gave up only when he began to feel a light, dull pain in his side which he had never felt before.

I've been a fan of Franz Kafka's work for some time now. When I came across this tragic little bug in my bathroom last night, legs whirling frantically in the air, I couldn't help but think of Kafka's particularly famous short story, The Metamorphosis.

I watched this bug struggle to right himself for about ten minutes, contemplating the sheer cruelty of his design, before shooting a few grainy pictures and tossing him outside (wrapped in kleenex of course).

He certainly would have related to the charming, yet pathetic Gregor from Kafka's odd little tale (which you can read a full online translation here if you so wish).

Also, just on the note of this story, one of my favourite artistic interpretations was done by the lovely artist Jana Sterbak in 1995, in a video entitled Condition. In a haunting translation of what I consider the cyclical nature of suffering, her video is fascinating for those familiar with Kafka's work in particular. You can take a look at it here (Or you may just find it weird, that's cool too).

Fish Trap

y ou're standing by the grey ice water ....... out in the wind ...... above ground out ..... in the weather ..... you had yourself a crazy lover ....... becoming frozen .....trying hard to forget her

At home on a boat, .....it's a fish trap you took the path of least resistance ...... on the phone cutting out talking ....... short to long distance you're standing by the grey ice water ...... out in the wind .....above ground out in the water.

What is this? No clue. I literally picked up watercolours and made rainbows, then hated it and doodled, then hated it aaaand put it up anyway. I had 'Grey Ice Water', by Modest Mouse bouncing around in my head for some reason, which I think subconsciously made me paint fish.

Sketchy men

S unburnt, tired, lazy....

But these beautiful men, courtesy of The Sartorialist, have at least encouraged me to pick up a ball-point pen. Magnifique, et Merde.

On a sidenote, I was informed today that Kings of Leon are coming.
And I will see them. and draw them obsessively until then.

The Canals of Our City

T he times we had Oh, when the wind would blow with rain and snow Were not all bad We put our feet just where they had, had to go Never to go
The shattered soul Following close but nearly twice as slow In my good times
And I will love to see that day That day is mine When she will marry me outside with the willow trees And play the songs we made They made me so And I would love to see that day
Her day was mine .

(lyrics-Beirut, Images compiled from an Italian Cookbook)

Elephant in the Room

T here are a few things coming to our attention, and we hope to deal with it soon. The only thing we've decidedly turned our backs on is the elephant in the room.

Pre-sketch

Stick with me

E verybody has been talking - yes news travels fast. But I don't worry, honey. Let them say what they will. Come on and stick with me, baby, we'll find a way.

The Soloist

T his one here was conceived with more of a story behind the image. The actual story itself, however, doesn't exist. Yet.

Process work for the Soloist