I accidentally skipped a chapter today and leapt to the one about Perspectives. I learned about the concept of Vanishing Points and Converging Lines. Here's our library (minus many details like the view outside the window, the blinds, and the carpet.) Those cabinets frustrated me the most, and there is an obvious lack of shadow grading. Why can't I see the different levels of darkness clearly?
My one-point perspective
Our library with a sofa, a TV on the left, and a reclining office chair
I was wondering why I found it hard to start this, considering they were mostly vertical lines; but when I went back to the chapter I had missed, I understood -- it was the lesson on Basic Unit. Now I've read it, and I started to do the exercise on drawing negative spaces, but my brain and eyes must be tired, because I wasn't progressing well. It also involved my ultimate waterloo: proportions. This was the first exercise that required me to scale up the drawing, and as expected, I was struggling. I'll continue the drawing tomorrow. P.S. Drawing is not easy.
Quick update regarding my progress on Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain. The chapter I'm on (6) talked about edges, and it taught a technique called Contour Drawing, which encouraged focusing on capturing the details of a subject by never taking your eyes off it. Not even to look at what you're drawing. That was fairly mind boggling, and I'm not sure if it did anything for me, but I hope it did.
I just finished a section that introduced the concept of a picture plane, an imaginary "window" artists look through; a perspective that allows you to copy the 3 dimensional world onto a 2 dimensional surface through drawing. Two artists, Brunelleschi and Alberti, were first in history to have recorded speaking of it, but Holbein and Van Gogh also employed it in their work. Since I'm not an artist (yet,) my teacher (aka the author) instructed me to create a picture plane, to help with the visual effect of foreshortening. I didn't have all the materials that the first chapter required me to gather; so I went to a craft shop this morning, bought a graphite stick, fibreglass pane, and the prescribed pencils, prepped the viewfinder and picture plane, and got to work on the exercises.
My second attempt at drawing my hand holding a glue stick
It's not the best, but I was pretty pleased that I came up with this (please refer to my first drawings to understand my amazement.) Either all the explanations and exercises have been very effective in changing the way I see (I'd like to think so,) or the combination of viewfinder + crosshairs + graphite stick are magical. I'd never understood how to shade before, but when I was instructed to "erase the highlights and darken the shadows," this just happened.
Things I learned from this activity include 1) smudging just enough when erasing an error (or no amount of rubbing will even out my toned ground) and 2) darkening the edges a little more. I'd never spent this much time and energy on trying to draw something realistic, and now I wonder if I'd been able to manage if I just did; but it just reinforces that time and patience are definitely important factors in this creation process.
Almost a week since I did the first drawing exercises, following instructions from Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain, I'm now on chapter 4. (I switched editions, and "The Definitive, 4th Edition" is a friendlier, less scholarly read.) This chapter has the exercise that Chris had described and got me curious: copying an image upside down. The book proposes that seeing an image right-side up automatically triggers our Left Brain to assign labels to everything, and with those labels come our own interpretations of things based on personal experiences. What it wants is for the reader to try engaging the imaginative Right Brain, ignoring the analytical Left Brain, so that we draw what we see, just as we see it, free of our own opinionated interferences.
SPOILER ALERT
If you want to try reading the book and doing all the exercises, you may not want to see what I drew, so you'll be a clean slate when you do it yourself. Although, the author did share an anecdote of a student who did it twice by mistake, still producing the desired results even if s/he had already seen the original image. Proceed with discernment =)
The book presented a portrait of Igor Stravinsky, drawn by the Spanish artist Pablo Picasso, oriented upside down. My brain immediately tried to recognise the picture, but I tried to suppress it. So although I knew it was of a person, I tried to see it as nothing but lines and curves, as I was supposed to. The average duration of activity was 45 minutes, but I took almost 2 hours, starting at 11:37 am and ending at 1:20 pm. I made two attempts, the first I discarded almost halfway, because I was unhappy with my attention to proportion. Being more cognizant of that weakness, I tried again. When I was finished, I turned both drawings and looked at them right-side up for the first time. I was pretty pleased with the similarity I achieved... I mean, that's a freaking Picasso!
My version of Picasso's Igor Stravinsky
The original: Portrait of Stravinsky by Picasso (photo taken from Wikipedia)
Having now done the first few exercises, I realised that my biggest disadvantage was and is my impatience. Considered a Left Brained trait, I was just too aware of time ticking away, thinking about how badly I must be doing, and I gave up on the tasks very quickly, not wanting to fix parts I could see weren't precise. As mentioned, my spatial abilities are not very sharp and I have difficulty with proportions; so in my drawing, Stravinsky's (anatomic) right shoulder is higher than the left, and the hands became chunkier to compensate at that point (I copied from top to bottom of the lopsided image.) I also made him look mad, oops! But like Dory said, "Just keep swimming;" and yesterday, while talking to Macy about calligraphy, she was encouraging me (as she so often does) to keep practicing. Practice, indeed, makes progress.
The National Museum of the Philippines has many regional branches, but I've only been to the National Art Gallery in Manila. I first went when I was a freshman, though my memories are now limited to the picture my block took on its front steps. Admission had been free until only recently, when they started charging entrance fees; and rightfully so, because the museum needs and deserves continuous funding for its maintenance and the restoration of the artwork it houses. October is Museums and Galleries month, so they decided to open their doors to the public for free again. I last went at the end of June, in the process of getting into character for Spoliarium, the opera by Ryan Cayabyab. Ryan and I decided to go yesterday because we had tickets for a show that night, at the same venue!
Almost sunset, our flag flapping in the wind
First on the agenda was Juan Luna's Spoliarium, a 166 inches x 302.2 inches oil on canvas. No matter how I try to describe how large it is to first-timers, it never prepares them when they see it from across the room. I've seen this piece three times by now; and every time I saw it, I was at different points in my life, having a different perspective that helped me gain new appreciation of it. The first time I saw it, I was struck by how majestic it was, not merely because of its sheer size, but because of its dark, gruesome, ancient Roman theme. A couple of months ago, having studied the painter's tragic life, I considered what his art had meant in that tumultuous time of the Philippine revolution, with so many of his friends and compatriots dying; and then wondering how that had affected his personal life in the following years, when he was said to have lost his mind and killed his wife and mother-in-law. Yesterday, my mind was full of the text I'd been reading about drawing, and I was taking note of his use of lines, looking closely at his strokes, thinking about where and how he had started on that gigantic canvas. My mind can't comprehend that kind of genius just yet. In fact, going around the galleries yesterday, even with my short and shallow exposure to the techniques of drawing, it was like I was seeing the artwork with new eyes. The collections were so extensive, I couldn't linger on a single piece for very long; but there were some that made me stay a while longer. My favourites were Amorsolo's "Children Playing in the River" (for its nostalgia, softness, and movement and reflection of water,) Ben Cab's "Sabel" (for its boldness,) Joya's "Ethereal Aura" (for its luminescence and mystery,) Manansala's "Bayanihan" (for its texture,) one of Luna's less popular landscapes (because of its beautiful sky, that doesn't look as magical up close,) Ocampo's "Mission Accomplished" (for its storytelling,) works by Nena Saguil (for their distinct character,) and artefacts from the artists, like diaries, pens, and palettes.
Children Playing in the River, Amorsolo
Sabel, Cabrera
Ethereal Aura, Joya
Bayanihan, Manansala
(landscape,) Luna
Mission Accomplished, Ocampo
Ben Cab's palette of shot glasses
E.A. Cruz's artefacts
A palette passed on from Francisco to several other artists, finally painted on by Galicano
On a side note, in a previous visit, my friends and I had noted from several paintings that Luna didn't do hands very well. When we saw this painting of a soldier, we couldn't help but laugh, because he seemed to have just given up on his right hand! It's somewhat comforting to know that even the best have their weaknesses.
Handless soldier! ;)
We stayed until they had closed the gallery lights on us at 5:00 pm. The concert wasn't scheduled to start until 7:30 pm, so Ryan and I decided to grab a bite at a nearby mall. Everyone we asked had said it was a walkable distance from the museum, but no one told us that there weren't any crosswalks along the way. So, in true Manila spirit, we crossed a bridge with very low railing, jaywalked across a main road, where plenty of vehicles were speeding, followed an incorrect tip to go under a tunnel, passed many street vendors with stolen phones and accessories, but eventually arrived safely at our destination. At the mall, inspired and feeling ambitious, I stopped by a craft store and bought drawing/writing materials. After a quick snack and three very tall glasses of iced fruit juices (we were thirstier than we anticipated,) we planned on taking a trike back to the museum. Except, the trikes outside wanted to dupe us, asking me for P100 for a trip that was less than 500m away (note: Ryan did't even open his mouth, so he thought I wouldn't think this were extortion?!) More confident of the way this time, we walked back with no hitches.
The Philippine Madrigal Singers has been hosting the Madz Et Al. Choral Festival for the past weeks, and last night's show was titled, Tapestry: Philippine Folksongs in Focus. It was held at the Old Senate Session Hall, a beautiful, high ceilinged chamber on the third floor of the museum.
5 choirs with the Philippine Madrigal Singers, a ka Madz Et Al.
From my understanding, the Madz Et Al. is the fellowship of the different groups being handled by Madz alumni. The Madrigals have always been reputed to expect a high level of musicality from their members, so it's no surprise that each one has passed on his/her musical excellence to their respective choirs. Last night was food for the soul, the kind you can only get from hearing voices in harmony. I had only heard of one choir in the line up, but the others didn't disappoint. I was slightly confused by the repertoire, expecting purely folk songs; but unless I'm mistaken with the genres, each group sang a mixture of folk and spiritual songs.
Philippine Merchant Marine School Choir Luninging San Jose (Conductor)
This group had clear tones, and showed lots of potential. They also had a soprano that sang her lines so effortlessly. There was a lack of confidence in their performance, which was evident in their indecisive entrances and ends of phrases. Some female voices in the middle could be more careful with their intonation (just upon observation, they can try opening their mouths a little more?) and in total, the group can improve on their English diction. The arrangement of Balot (by Bello) that they sang, while sung well, lost the playfulness that I love from the song.
Magsaysay Chorale Jose Emmanuel Aquino (Conductor) The next choir had no problems with confidence, looking comfortable on stage. Even as the men were outnumbered 4 to 7, they were not overpowered by the women; but there was something off about the overall balance that I only figured out at the end. They sang an arrangement of Bridge Over Troubled Water that I was familiar with, and realised I couldn't really hear their altos. The ladies could also have blended better if they had made their vocal productions more uniform. There were shaky moments in the harmony (and lyrics,) but they had moments of cohesion when they sounded their best: warm and seasoned.
Scelto Voce Chorale Christopher Borela (Conductor)
I didn't know what to expect when I saw they only had 5 ladies in the group, but all were very strong singers. They had a good balance of voices, despite their uneven ratio. I especially loved their rendition of Caritas et Amor, it was easy to ignore the depleted breath at the very last chord. More important than the near perfection of their performance was their giving the already beautiful arrangement justice by knowing when to be intensely still, to allow soaring in the parts where it was demanded. The very rhythmic Kruhay was done with precision, because when done wrong would have sounded chaotic, but done just right was powerful.
Technological Institute of the Philippines Choral Society Jose Emmanuel Aquino (Conductor)
They opened their set with a strong Sanctus. Apart from their solid soprano section, I really liked how all the members sang with such enjoyment. They all wore pleasant smiles as soon as they stepped on stage. They also appeared to have a high regard for their conductor, following his instructions sensitively, effectively producing their delightful polyphony.
Ili-ili, one of my favourite and hauntingly beautiful folk songs, had an arrangement that was unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome; only slightly disorienting with its shifts to the major keys.
Novo Concertante Manila Arwin Tan (Conductor)
Last to perform was my friend's choir, evidently a favorite with the audience if based on applause alone. I've seen them many times, and they've gotten consistently better each year. Their best asset is their vocal control and adherence to their conductor's dynamics, which they all do with practiced synchrony. This was the first time I heard them sing Pagtulog Na Nene, and it was so soothing, ending with a broad climax. I'd always liked their version of Aud Lang Syne, and I imagine I'd bawl my eyes out if I heard this and I were away from my family on a cold, December evening. The soloist had a nice voice, but it unfortunately didn't travel all the way to the back. Unlike the two other choirs that night, they did not rely on the strength of a few soloists, but stood out as a well-rehearsed chorus. They capped the evening by calling out some of the Madrigals to perform with all 5 choirs, led by Conductor Mark Carpio. Lovely, lovely evening. It made me miss my choir days so much, I'm thinking if I should join one again!
If there's anything that can be done one day at a time, it's learning. I advocate the thinking that anything can be learned, even skills that people insist are dependent on talent, like singing, dancing, and writing. Sure, talent makes it so that there is a predisposition to a skill, but with enough attention to the right procedure and plenty of practice, I think every skill can be developed.
I've always envied visual artists, those that can replicate the world around us, and especially those that can transfer their own imaginings onto canvas. I've often wondered how it would be like if I could just draw or paint all my thoughts! Wild.
I don't think I'm terrible at drawing, in fact I can draw enough to give semblances to my target images; but I have obvious problems with proportions and depth (and, well, patience.) Last weekend, over sandwiches and beer, my friends and I got to talking about arts and crafts. I somehow had shared that I wasn't good at visual arts, and was frustrated by drawing. Chris started to excitedly describe a book, whose author supposedly guarantees that everyone can learn how to draw, and draw well. He gave a very rough gist, but enough to pique my interest, because here I am two days later, on the third chapter.
After a short introduction on the basis of the teaching technique (which read like a research journal or some other academic paper,) it went on to listing the materials needed for the drawing exercises. The first exercise, however, only needed a pencil and paper. I had to draw a 1) self-portrait, 2) a person from memory, and 3) my hand, to serve as a point of comparison when tracking my progress (a ka, "before" drawings. Forgive the scans, I recycled lyric sheets from past productions.)
Self-Portrait: It looks like a person, but it doesn't look like me
Person from memory: Ryan, who ended up looking like Marcos =/ So bizarre, I'd just seen him minutes before, but I couldn't remember a single detail vividly when I tried to bring his face to mind
My hand: strangely disfigured
I think I've proven a point about my drawing skills, or obvious lack of it. I'm hoping I belong to the demographic that this technique works on, and that I'll actually see improvement in my "after" drawings. In the meantime, I'll document this entire project for posterity. I've been consciously working on my visual creativity lately, and I mentioned having dabbled in food styling a few weeks ago. Here is the first finished product, as posted on the Chef's Classics Facebook page. It took a leap of faith in myself to accept that project, long hours in the kitchen studio to get things right, and what a great feeling to see it come to fruition. I have so many things to refine, like my taste and my eye for composition; but what's important is I tried it, I learned from it, and I'm willing to do better next time.
