The Study: Foundation of the Creative Process.

Michael Whynot. Head study, 2013. Red chalk.

Design, or as it is called by another name, drawing, constitutes the fountainhead and substance of painting and sculpture and architecture and every other kind of painting and is the root of all knowledge.  (Michelangelo)


Just posting a quick head study (3"x4") done this morning in preparation for a clay figure. Sometimes it is faster to find the pose in chalk than to work directly in the clay. There is such an economy of effort with drawing which allows the artist to explore a range of possibilities he might otherwise neglect. And, it is the process of exploring different concepts in the drawn form, from which can spring a totally unique idea. The act of creation is mysterious, indeed, but I believe drawing plays a fundamental role.

When God created man, I like to imagine that He began by first exploring His concepts for the human form through a series of loose, preliminary drawings before ever committing them to flesh and bone.

The Beauty of Forms.

Michael Whynot. Torso Study, 2012. Detail. Water-based clay.

Michael Whynot. Torso Study, 2012. Detail. Water-based clay.

Michael Whynot. Torso Study, 2012. Detail. Water-based clay.

Michael Whynot. Torso Study, 2012. Detail. Water-based clay.

Michael Whynot. Torso Study, 2012. Detail. Water-based clay.

Michael Whynot. Torso Study, 2012. Detail. Water-based clay.

Michael Whynot. Torso Study, 2012. Detail. Water-based clay.

Michael Whynot. Torso Study, 2012. Detail. Water-based clay.

Michael Whynot. Torso Study, 2012. Detail. Water-based clay.

Michael Whynot. Torso Study, 2012. Detail. Water-based clay.

There is nothing ugly; I never saw an ugly thing in my life: for let the form of an object be what it may -  light, shade and perspective will always make it beautiful. (John Constable)



Light reveals form - which is a beautiful thing - that can be infinite in its variety, owing to its orientation to light and the viewpoint of the beholder.

In a drawing, the draftsman fixes the source of light and the viewpoint of the beholder to a single moment in time, in essence, selecting a moment from the infinite for each new drawing. But the sculptor, creating in the round, is able to offer infinite variety in a single work. Both the sculptor and the draftsman offer infinite variety: the sculptor in a single work, the draftsman in many.

Note the variety in the photos of my clay torso study above. Each is taken from a different viewpoint and orientation to the light source. A draftsman could create many different drawings from the photos, while the sculptor creates one work with infinite variety.

As men have done since the beginning of time, I become lost when pondering the infinite, the possibilities for beauty being endless. The artist's job is to embrace one of these moments of beauty from among the infinite variety available and endeavour to convey it to others so that they can see form as the artist sees form. The degree to which the artist succeeds is dependent upon their ability to clearly render, not only the form, but the essence of the form which is beyond verbal definition and is the crux of the artist.

                                    The Beauty of Forms.

                             That I am blessed to bear witness

                             To the beauty of forms

                             Amid these common aspects of daily life;

                             But, oh, how it consumes me,

                             Like a flame,

                             As I struggle to release it,

                             Burning me

                             From the inside out.

                                                      (Michael Whynot, 2012)

                                                                     

Fearful Symmetry: Contrapposto, The Legacy of the Greeks, Part 2.

Michelangelo. David, 1501-1504.

Greek. Marble statue of a Kouros (youth), ca, 590-580 B.C. Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Greek. Marble statue of Kritios boy, ca, 5th century B.C. 

Greek. Hermes Carrying the Infant Dionysus, (Praxiteles?) ca. 350 B.C.

Symmetry of form is beautiful, but static; boring. Variety of form conveys life, a sense of movement. Contrapposto (Italian: opposite, counterpose) may be viewed as a flaw in symmetry; the life inherent in the form. Without these flaws the form is perfect, but dead. Within the flaws lies the gesture which imbues form with life. To my mind, contropposto is the balance achieved between beauty of form (symmetry) and variety of form (asymmetry).

The Greeks discovered this in the 5th century B.C. and the Italians rediscovered it during the renaissance. Note how the Greek depiction of the human form evolved over three centuries, from static to dynamic, and the beautiful interpretation of the concept in the hands of Michelangelo nearly two thousand years later.

Perfection is a wondrous state to strive for, but a fearsome state to attain. Perfection of form lacks grace (for want of a less ambiguous word), which I define as a pleasing arrangement of forms in a moment of balance.

Observe how the human form regains balance once it abandons symmetry. The weight shifts to one foot, putting that leg into tension, while the opposite leg is relaxed. The hips tilt in one plane, the torso in the opposite plane, and the head in the opposite plane, yet again.

Balance is maintained and a beautiful, graceful serpentine line flows through the body, from head to toe, uniting the forms. Symmetry, perfection, is lost, but grace is attained.

The Greeks did not invent contrapposto, nature did that. But they were the first to depict it in works of art and even now, two and a half millennia later, we cannot help but gaze upon them with inexplicable awe and wonder.

Pursuing Gesture: The Legacy of the Greeks. Part one.

Greek, 2nd century B.C. Torso of Satyr.

Michelangelo. A Battle Scene, c. 1504

Raphael. Men Fighting (1504?).

Gian Lorenzo Bernini. David, 1624.

Frank Frazetta. Mid-20th century.

Patricia Hannaway

Patricia Hannaway.

Michael Whynot. Thirty second gesture drawing, 2012.

Michael Whynot. Fifteen minute torso study, 2012.

I have touched upon gesture in a previous post, but I find myself returning to it again and again, the eternal moth to the flame, since it lies at the heart of everything I find beautiful in art.

Gesture is not new, nor is it limited to a single time period. Great artists, since antiquity, have been capturing it, imbuing form with life.

Sometime around 480-450 B.C., Greek art began to evolve. Up until that point there was an unnatural lifelessness inherent in their sculpture and painting. It was hard and cold and lacked what we now refer to as gesture. But once the Greeks were able to overcome the initial stiffness of their early work (see the beautiful, 2nd century B.C., Torso of a Satyr, above), the vitality of the gesture has flowed down the ages, from the Greeks to the Romans, from Michelangelo, Raphael and Bernini, to modern artists.

Frank Frazetta was able to capture the essence of movement in a few perceptively placed ink strokes. Long time animator, Patricia Hannaway, has a lovely, expressive touch with line and light. Lastly, I have included a thirty second gesture drawing and a fifteen minute torso study of my own.

Life moves quickly, so the artist's eye must move quicker still; must notice even more. Gesture neither begins nor ends, but is in a constant state of flux. What a wonderful ability: to pluck life from between God's own fingers and shape it into material form, the grace of which others might now behold and wonder that they had never before noticed such beauty.

Life unravels too quickly, too quickly altogether. Art offers us a respite, a chance to breathe and experience the wonder of existence; art is a nightlight shinning at 3:00 in the morning.

Clay Torso Sketch, November 26.

Michael Whynot, 2012. Clay torso study.

Michael Whynot, 2012. Clay torso study.

Michael Whynot, 2012. Clay torso study.

Here is a torso sketch done in water-based clay that I was working on this morning. I spent about one hour on it.

When sketching in water-based clay, there is a limit to how large you can go (this sketch is about 8 1/2 inches tall) and the complexity of the pose, without resorting to an internal armature. As you can see, I had to prop up one side of the figure, as it wanted to collapse under its own weight. Water-based clay is fairly heavy and standing poses and outstretched limbs require an armature to support the weight of the clay.

But, for me, this defeats the purpose of the sketch. I use clay sketches in much the same way as sketches done on paper, to explore variations in a pose. I rarely spend more than an hour on one and there is little detail; the surface is left fairly rough.

A wonderful exercise, though, in understanding form, whether sculpting, drawing or painting.

Sketching In Clay

Michael Whynot. Torso Study, 2012. Water-based clay.

Michael Whynot. Torso Study, 2012. Water-based clay.

Michael Whynot. Torso Study, 2012. Water-based clay.

Michael Whynot. Torso Study, 2012. Water-based clay.

"I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free."  Michelangelo

"Matter, material, is without definition, without beauty; into matter, form is introduced, which is a beautiful and definite thing. Giving form to material is the practice of the artist"  David Summers



The above photos are of a quick (30 minutes) torso study done from the imagination in water-based clay. Sketching in clay, for me, is little different than sketching with pencil on paper. While the end product may appear different to the viewer, the ability to visualize the form in three dimensions is the foundation upon which either manner of sketch must rise.

The process of modelling in clay or describing form in line on paper is a skill that can be learned, but the imaginative faculty is infinitely more complex and may be beyond teaching or learning.

Imagination begets creation. What an intoxicating experience, to imagine form, which does not exist, and, through the act of visualizing it, create that form in charcoal or clay with your own hands, like an inexplicable magic trick, or a sideline in which God might dabble in His spare time: the physical manifestation of thought itself.