corvideye: (Default)
The thing about being an artist is that you don’t really have hobbies in the normal sense. Non-artists often say, “Oh, it must be fun making art; it must be fun writing.” But they don’t realize that it isn’t, necessarily, because it’s not a choice; it’s a compulsion. Sometimes it’s fun, sometimes it’s hell; either way, it’s something you have to do in order to feel whole. It’s soul-defining. If you weren’t making your art, or at least thinking about making your art, you wouldn’t quite feel real.

(Incidentally, by ‘being an artist’, I don’t mean a value judgment about who is and isn’t one. In my observation, it is a spectrum of personality types, a temperament with many variations; it’s about how you view the world and what you feel compelled to do in response to your experience... regardless of whether you are making tangible artwork at any given time. An artist is always fomenting and synthesizing, thinking consciously or subconsciously about output in response to life’s input. One way or another, sooner or later, something will come out, whether a painting, a poem, an outfit, a fruitcake, or just a barbaric yawp.)

So for me, origami and knitting are among the few things I do that are actually hobbies. With a hobby, I do it if I feel like it. I have little ego investment, and no compulsion to work on the project or achieve a certain result. I have the impulse to make a neat object, but I don’t feel driven to learn the totality and perfect the craft. I don’t lie awake dreaming up new things to make with it. If it frustrates me, I stop. If I don’t do it for a few months, I don’t feel guilty or depressed that I’m missing something essential. It isn’t definitive to my existence as a person. It’s just something I occasionally like to do. For me, that’s extremely unusual... but also a relief. At this point, I practically rejoice when I identify a craft or medium I am NOT interested in pursuing—there’s so many already to make mental and physical space for! Can’t stand to quilt? Great! No interest in encaustic? Excellent! That just leaves all the other stuff to accommodate... Still, there's almost no artform where I'm not interested in at least grasping the basics. Since knowledge is power, my goal is to have the index!
corvideye: (Default)
corvideye: (goose)
I was a little disapointed in Delirium. It was good, but at $20 it was overpriced. I enjoyed it, it was entertaining and colorful, but it wasn’t the ecstatic awe of Cirque at its best. That’s the trouble with sometimes attaining godlike perfection; people expect you to do it all the time... The format was more of a concert with acrobatic floorshow, rather than their norm of an encompassing theatrical production. They made good use of projecting imagery onto scrims and rear screens to envelop the performers in vivid phantasms. But it annoyed me that the director kept cutting to a diagonal shot which mostly just showed the audience and flattened the projections' illusion of depth; it would have been more effective to keep the camera in the center, focused on the stage. Another disappointment was that the film itself was not movie-quality; part of this was due to the scrim creating a haze over the stage, but even when that was pulled back, the picture was grainy, not crisp. Again, if you’re going to charge $20 for a movie, it needs to _look_ like a movie.

The show didn’t have as much of a unified style or overarching story as a normal Cirque production, though themes of time and mortality ran through it, and it had some of their typical elements, including an object (here a red ball) that is played with, exchanged, stolen, hidden, and revealed throughout the show; figures emerging through holes in the stage; quarrelsome and faintly sinister clowns speaking universal gibberish; and a bewildered and bedazzled everyman who at first floats above and eventually descends to join the frolic and fall in love. The music was mostly good, energetic and percussive, with a variety of styles and singers, remixing songs from other Cirque soundtracks (although the samba-disco remix of “Alegria” was just plain goofy). The costumes were patchy, some effective, some not; seemed like they lavished attention on selected principals but bought a lot of the rest of it off the rack. There was one extremely cool gauze coat with a Siberian-influenced motif I would really like a still of. I liked the psychedelic bit where a suspended singer’s giant parachute skirt was stretched across the stage to make another colorful projection screen, while silhouetted figures danced inside in a lively Brazilian number; then they stuck poles into the fabric to echo the shape of Cirque’s travelling tents. My favorite acts were the four-man balancing act, the male pole-balancer, and the contortionist hula hooper whose prismatic hoops enveloped her in delicious whirls of colored light. I also liked how they varied their standard suspended-from-fabric-streamers act into more inhuman, cocoon-like shapes. As ever, Cirque’s acrobats manage to be both alien and magnificently sensual.

In a nutshell, my main response to this was "pretty", whereas my usual response to Cirque shows is "buh"--exultant astonishment.
corvideye: (goose)
I have just read the most delightfully deranged graphic novel. Creature Tech by Doug TenNapel. It's... sort of like Men in Black done by Roald Dahl thrown in a blender with Buffy and HP Lovecraft and... some other thing. Actually, it's indescribable, but it's really really good. Sick, twisted, hilarious, witty, and charming. With cat demons. And a giant preying mantis. And hillbillies. And the shroud of Turin. And a misfit love story. And giant space eels. And a number of other moments of laugh-out-loud peculiarity, and reallly bad puns, and a scratchy yet skillful drybrush ink style that rapidly grew on me. The insect afterlife sequence will haunt my thoughts. Just check it out.

Like I said... the Young Adult section has all the best stuff.

ETA: just found out this is the same artist who did the bizarre claymation computer game Neverhood. That explains a lot.
corvideye: (lotus)
The trailer and gallery on this site nicely convey the visuals of the film. (The gallery contains some spoilers--to the extent that such a nonlinear plot can be spoiled). Makes me want to see it again...

http://www.thefallthemovie.com/
corvideye: (goose)
Just went to see The Fall... quite an interesting film: a strange, surrealist metafictional fantasy, haunting and bittersweet, tragicomic and bizarre. Rarely does one see a film so wholly devoted to visual beauty—betimes at the expense of other elements, yet I have to admire its unabashed passion for sensory splendor. In a hospital ca. 1915, an injured stunt man befriends a little girl and spins her a story, trying to convince her to do him a dangerous favor. His improvised story blends with her whimsical envisioning, and proceeds with all the sublime suggestibility and fluid reality of a dream. As in a dream, people and elements from real life cross over and transmogrify, symbols surface and descend. I could say that it’s like a frappé of Dali, Magritte, the Arabian Nights, Maxfield Parrish, Aubrey Beardsley, the Mahabarata, and a little Tim Burtonesque stop motion sequence thrown in for contrast, but that only conveys the flavor of the visuals, not the originality. Every image in this bizarre succession is composed with jewel-like care, every element intentionally placed—an almost unbearable clarity of color, blues and reds so pure they ache, several breathtakingly sensual human bodies, and some of the most stunningly original costumes I’ve ever seen on film. As a story, it is imperfect; something about the pacing and the motivation doesn’t quite work as well as I would wish, and several times the story builds momentum only to diffuse it inexplicably. But as pure visual stimuli, it is audacious and exquisite, entirely worth the ride. (How can you not enjoy glimpsing the unexpected beauty of a swimming elephant, a blackened man emerging from a burning tree, a young Charles Darwin pursuing a butterfly above an Escher labyrinth of stairs?) Definitely see this one on the big screen if you can. Expect a movie that does not follow tidy formulas, a movie that confounds conventional wisdom, a refreshing departure from anything familiar. Just surrender to it, and enjoy the suffusion of your senses.

I admire the director's tenacity in producing this labor of love in small increments while working on other projects over the course of 4 years--part of what enabled him to use such a dazzling array of locations. I’ll be curious to see what he comes up with when he’s learned more about pacing and plot. If he can learn to engage _all_ the elements of cinematic storytelling, he could be formidable. For instance, somebody really, really, really needs to introduce him to Neil Gaiman...

ETA: the costume designer was Eiko Ishioka, who also costumed Cirque du Soleil's Varekai--no wonder!
corvideye: (fruitful)
This is for [livejournal.com profile] ariadne3...Baron Brutus' caribou from Midwinter's. Cream cheese, apricot paste, currant eye and fewmets, powdered sugar snow, on shortbread base.

Ponderable

Apr. 3rd, 2008 07:41 pm
corvideye: (fruitful)
So in the process of working on my costume presentation, there's an issue I've been pondering a lot, and even though there isn't time to do more than touch on it in the class, I've gotten interested in it for its own sake. That issue is the medieval concept of historical authenticity / accuracy.

A lot of what I'm going to talk about in the class is how you can't necessarily take a medieval image perfectly literally; it is not necessarily (indeed, is very rarely) a documentary "snapshot" of an actual event or scene. How you have to look at the context of what is being depicted: is it a bible scene, a legend, an allegory? How until about the 14th-15th c., painters were usually more interested in an idealized or generalized vision of the world than in accurately depicting daily life. How the robes of a saint or the Virgin or a Magus may differ from what a medieval person would have actually worn.

So when you start looking at the context of images, you of course also notice that the modern concept of historical accuracy is not present. In the Maciejowski bible, the Old Testament stories are shown largely in 13th style and detail, the soldiers in mail and flat-topped helms, the masons working on Gothic arches. Similarly, there are 14th c. depictions of Plato teaching his students, all shown dressed in 14th c. clothing. Illustrations of King Arthur, likewise. So we ask ourselves: did medieval artists not know that people of the past dressed differently? Or did they not care--was it more important, more relevant to make the stories accessible, like a Shakespeare play performed in modern clothes?

Now, my general conclusion/ assumption has been that for the most part they didn't know. That is, they probably knew that some people in the past may have dressed differently from current people, because of various old statues and other remnants kicking around, and because they would have observed fashions changing in living memory (though certainly at a slower rate then than now). But of course they lacked the historical framework we have now, the ability to read dead languages and carbon-date objects, the body of cultural and stylistic knowledge to be able to say that this old statue is from Germany ca. 550 while this one is from France ca. 950. I imagine their framework was something like "stodgy," "old," "very old," "extremely darned old."

But lately I've been wondering more about where the boundaries of their awareness lay. If, as I've noted, there's a difference between the clothes in a 13th c. picture of an apostle and a 13th c. picture of a contemporary king, then doesn't that imply an awareness? Or was it more a matter of conventions passed down--'biblical prophets dress this way'--rather than knowledge of what Biblical people wore? Did they think that people in the Arthurian legends dressed just like them, or did they just prefer to paint it that way in order to make parallels to their own time? Why IS the Maciejowski bible art mostly in 13th c. vernacular? How did they see these other times in relation to their own? I feel like I should know the answer to this--I thought I did--but suddenly I'm not so sure. It's bugging me.

Now, of course this is a complex question and the type for which the answer will always be "it depends"--on when and where and who, like every historical question. I'm thinking primarily of Europe in the medieval period, before the big rediscovery of the classical body of knowledge and art. Such a concept is hard to search for in a quick way because googling "medieval concept of history" or "medieval concept of historical authenticity" gets you a lot of stuff on "medieval history" and "historical authenticity", but not the meta-topic. It's the sort of question that only really gets answered during in-depth, immersive historical research. So I thought I'd toss it out there and see what others' impressions were. I would be really interested in specific places (books, whatever) where you have seen this addressed.
corvideye: (jago)
Rivetingly strange. I have never seen anything quite like this.

http://www.kirchersociety.org/blog/2006/05/29/ferrofluid-sculpture/
corvideye: (lotus)
It's like Myst brought to life. There are no words.

http://www.steamtreehouse.com/

...and it's FOR SALE!!!!
corvideye: (lotus)
This is absolutely exquisite. Now that's the kind of tech gadget I can get excited about! Be sure to watch the video too...

http://www.datamancer.net/steampunklaptop/steampunklaptop.htm

Since discovering steampunk last year, I really want to start making/ modding some objects in this style. History, craftsmanship, scrounging, fantasy, and rogue whimsy all in one...what could be better!

Edit: Okay, check out the rest of the projects on datamancer's site, too! Ye gods, I am inspired to do some tweakery!
corvideye: (lotus)
This company is doing amazing three-dimensional realizations of images from famous paintings... click on an artist to see the pieces... don't miss the Dali, the Bosch, and the Arcimboldo...

http://www.3d-mouseion.com/engels/opening%20eng.htm
corvideye: (scribe)
This is a detail of one version of the scroll I did that Vasa was talking about... I painted this one; the other two, including the one she saw, were painted by someone else.

I do like how the griffin came out in this. I had just discovered the Hunt 102 nib, which is the bestest drawing nib ever and completely changed my feelings about drawing with a dip pen.
corvideye: (Default)
I dreamed of a Chinese park where people leave origami on the ground or in trees for others to encounter and appreciate; I had been seeding my four-petal paper lotuses, and particularly liked the way the metallic foil ones gleamed at night when you caught them with a flashlight. There were also intricate papercut streamers you could buy and hang from trees, including ones in black paper for the dead. I wanted to buy some of those just because they were very beautiful, and hoped no one would be offended if I did (since I wasn’t of that religion and wasn’t buying them for someone in particular). I was also going to buy some white windhorses to put up in the house, and some tiny little key cutouts for a collage I am (in waking life) working on. In amongst the gardens and streams there were beautiful buildings like at the Portland Chinese Garden, and I was worried about getting to see everything in the amount of time I had before our group regathered.

Later, there was the amazing image of looking down into a deep chasm of clear water beside a road and seeing a bird of prey flying underwater—just like in the air, but in slow-mo.

I wish there really was an origami park! Here, though, it would have to be a summer-only phenomenon.
corvideye: (Default)
OMG WANT WANT WANT ALL THIS!!!!!!!!!

http://www.becausewecan.org/Office_interior_with_custom_desks

WOW. Thanks, [livejournal.com profile] scarywoman!
corvideye: (lotus)
Dude. Color me astounded.

http://www.petercallesen.com/index/A4PAPERCUT_000.htm
corvideye: (lotus)
The last two weeks I've been feeling really blah and flat and tired and out of sorts, for no particular reason I can pin down. Maybe I was somewhat anemic, because I felt much better after consuming a large amount of steak and spinach Friday night. Then, fortunately, some pretty cool things happened this weekend, and now I'm feeling invigorated and hoping it will carry through.

The first cool thing was on Saturday, when being at work was a lot more fun than usual because we had a two hour Stop-in-Studio by Dan Chen. Stop-in-Studio is a series of free drop-in demos that happen at the store--local artists do their thing and talk about their process for whoever shows up. Dan Chen is a local artist who is among my favorite living artists anywhere. His work carries the sensibilities of his training in China--craftsmanship, lush colors, aesthetic subjects, meticulously observed and rendered detail--but infuses it with incredible life and dynamism. He is particularly good at animals--gorgeous but never prettified, they crackle off the page with power. He not only works in oil pastel and oil paints, but also does fantastic sculptures in clay and bronze. Saturday he demonstrated a more traditional style of Chinese painting than I had seen him do before, looser sumi-style brush painting with ink and Chinese watercolor.

Dan is one of those people who just has talent oozing out of every pore. He is also incredibly friendly, unpretentious, and laid-back. His response to the group of 50 people (an unusually high turnout for us) eagerly awaiting his presentation was, "Hi! What you wanna do? I'm easy. You want to see flowers? Okay." He whips out a pad of sumi paper, a brush, some ink, and a few tubes of paint and starts knocking off jaw-droppingly beautiful flowers. The audience was literally going "ooh! ahh!" every time he held up a finished sheet.

I have tried that type of brush painting. It looks easy--it ain't. There is no going back, no cover ups, and you have to work quickly on the soft unsized paper because the ink immediately bleeds. You have to have both a pre-formed intention and the confidence to work with speed and follow serendipity. Dan demonstrated that in spades. It's like that saying about baseball: pitching is simple, but not easy. Brush paintings are simple--three sharp black smears of ink to indicate a gnarled cherry branch, the brush twisted and dragged so that it marks unevenly to depict rough bark; quick touches of pink for flower petals, pressing harder where the color should be darkest, a few dots of yellow... simple. Not easy. Then he whips off a couple goldfish--a few streaks of filmy gray for fins and vibrant red caps floating on the white sheet. Breathtaking. Simple.

He also passed around a portfolio of some of his more formal Chinese-style paintings on silk. The silk is a gorgeous warm tan, either tussah or dyed to that color, which is stretched on a panel and sized with hide glue and alum. The design is outlined in ink--selectively; some areas of the picture are not outlined, so that they look softer and recede--and then rendered in many layers of chinese watercolor (hide glue-based and more opaque than western watercolor). White mixed into the colors makes layers really pop on the colored ground; glowing figures advance and recede on the flatness of the minimal background. The diffraction of the translucent silk creates an incredible luminosity of color that changes depending on the angle viewed. The pieces in the photos were astonishingly rich and detailed--especially a giant commission of peacocks (feathers intricately delineated) and wisteria (blossoms likewise)--with the mouthwatering color intensity and saturation of a Tiffany window: they are literally that rich, glowing, and detailed.

I found these pieces quite interesting in that on the surface, they looked quite traditionally Chinese in subject, materials, and execution. But then the more you look at them, the more complexity they take on, because the Chinese approach is infused with a Western sensibility of rendering--more dimensional, somehow, the figures popping off the flat background as if about to break free. In fact it is almost exactly like the work of Giuseppe Castiglione, a 17th c. Jesuit painter who went to live in the court of the Qianlong Emperor (his portrait of the Emperor is widely reproduced) and produced works in Chinese style and subject matter yet with the subtle infusion of western realism. Quite different from the other stuff I've seen Dan do, which is figural but more obviously modern.

It was interesting to hear him talk about working for a porcelain factory in China when he was younger, how they had to be able to hand-paint two perfectly parallel lines around a vase, how they went out and painted flowers from life--he would travel hours on the bus to study a specimen, or use a giant lotus leaf as a rain hat while he painted the lotus flower, then get down in the water to see how the flower looked from underneath. He said they would spend hours unloading kilns and then still be expected to perfectly steady their hands to paint. So few western artists get that kind of serious technical training in draftsmanship and observation; the discipline really shows in both his skill and his extremely prolific output.

Several people in the audience had studied this type of brush painting and were lapping up the technical details with an eager desperation I well recognize. One of them said to me later, "It's so hard to find this information, you have to hunt everywhere--I sure wish I'd been able to talk to him years ago--" I nodded in perfect understanding--having faced the same scarcity and hungry hunt over the years for information about medieval painting, pouncing upon anyone who might guide me.

I got some information for the store's paint buyer about the Chinese watercolors they are all using, which they currently have to order from SF or Seattle; it would be cool if we could carry those at the store--the fanatics in the audience were quite excited by the possibility--and I'd like to try them myself. It sounds like the type of paint used in Tibetan thangka painting as well (distemper, technically, as opposed to tempera).

The only slightly exasperating thing about Dan is that he's one of those artists who's such a natural that he's not always very good at explaining how he does what he does. "Well, you just take your brush, and you do this..." Uh huh. No, Dan, YOU do that; we do a blob. But that's okay. Just watching him work is inspiring enough... It was a total artgasm.

Absolutely one of the best things about my job is that I am getting to know a lot of the professional artists and art teachers in Eugene. I really value that--being able to chat, ask them questions, help them find stuff, and sometimes even turn them on to new materials and resources.

I wish I had a better example of Dan's work. The trout do not excite me as much as most of his subjects, but this is the only color pic of his I can find online:
http://imagecache2.allposters.com/images/pic/adc/10100364A~Trout-Gathering-Posters.jpg

And here is a line drawing of one of his peacocks, but it doesn't begin to convey the color version...
http://uobookstore.com/art/studios.cfm

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