shantell: Foreshortened raven staring at viewer with head cocked to the side (Default)
Originally, I'd planned on drawing all of my bats in flight, but after studying each of the species, I decided that focusing upon their faces would be the best idea. The species are most readily distinguished from one another by looking at their faces. From a distance, they look more similar. Also, when I showed my thumbnails to other people in person, the portraits elicited more powerful reaction. People are cuted-out by the faces.

Since part of the reason I chose bats is because they're in trouble because of disease and habitat loss, it makes sense that I should endeavour to make them more appealing to the masses. And so I intend on emphasizing their cute side. People are more likely to want to save things they find cute than things which look gross, no matter how important those gross-looking creatures may be.

So, less this:

Scary bat

And more this:

Big Brown Bat

Here are my thumbnail sketches:

Thumbnails

Thumbnails

Thumbnails

From this, I created six linear sketches.

Silver-haired bat
Silver-Haired Bat

Big Brown Bat
Big Brown Bat

Long-Eared Myotis
Long-Eared Myotis

Little Brown Bat
Little Brown Bat

Red Bat
Red Bat

Hoary Bat
Hoary Bat

Although I'd love to do scientific illustrations for each of these bats, I do not have the time, so instead I plan on doing soft pastel drawings. I want to do the drawings on black paper to make the colours pop, and also to demonstrate the nocturnal nature of the animals.

Here is a colour test of soft pastels on black paper in some of the colours I'll be using.

Pastel colour test

As for the hand-lettering, I plan on using pencil crayon, since pastels are too smudgy.

The stamp booklet will be simple. The background design will be minimal, so as not to detract from the bats. I'm thinking of maybe having a moonlit backdrop.
shantell: Foreshortened raven staring at viewer with head cocked to the side (Default)
Dave McKean is a British illustrator, designer, photographer, filmmaker, comic book artist, and more. He lives in Maidenhead, Berkshire, England. His work is often experimental, and he has used unorthodox methods to create art. As an example, he experimented with colour copying machines, shining lights on them, and scanning his own beard to achieve different visual effects. He originally wanted to illustrate record covers, but entered the field as CDs were taking over as the main music medium. He also wanted to be a comic book illustrator, and this dream came true in a big way.

When he was in his final year of art school and still unknown, he met up with writer Neil Gaiman and in 1987, they created a graphic novel called Violent Cases.

[Violent Cases]

It was the beginning of a long and productive relationship. Gaiman and McKean enjoyed working together very much, and they were given the opportunity to collaborate further. McKean’s distinct illustration style, drawing upon such elements as painting, collage, photography, drawing, set construction, and more, became the face of the award-winning Sandman series written by Gaiman. Sandman ran regularly from 1989 to 1996 and reappeared as Sandman Overture in 2016.

Sandman

McKean and Gaiman have collaborated many times since they first met on a variety of projects. This is one of McKean’s illustrations for Gaiman’s Signal to Noise graphic novel.

Signal to Noise

Text is incorporated as much as an illustrative technique as it is for a storytelling technique.
Another example of his incorporation of text into illustration is seen on this Sandman cover illustration:

[Sandman cover]

Another example of this use of words for visual impact is seen in this portrait of Gaiman.

[Neil Gaiman]

McKean has collaborated with other creators over the years, and has also done solo projects. His most recent book is Black Dog: The Dreams of Paul Nash. He wrote and illustrated this tale of WWI surrealist artist Paul Nash.

Black Dog

He is sought after for his album cover art, editorial illustrations, and more. McKean has also worked with chef Heston Blumenthal, evolutionary biologist Richard Dawkins, and authors Ray Bradbury and Stephen King.

Here is an editorial illustration about Surveillance for Security Management Magazine in 1996:

Surveillance

He has created album covers for Tori Amos, Skinny Puppy, Frontline Assembly, Toad the Wet Sprocket, Machinehead, Fear Factory, Alice Cooper, and many more.

Here is the cover for Skinny Puppy’s BRAP album:

[BRAP]

His biggest achievement to date has been the monumental project Arkham Asylum: A Serious House on Serious Earth, a Batman graphic novel. For this book, he produced 120 pages of paintings which reinterpret the classic characters of DC’s Batman universe. Almost 200,000 copies of the hardcover have been sold, and almost 100,000 of the trade paperback.
Here is a page from this book:

Arkham Asylum

He illustrated Gaiman’s children’s book The Wolves in the Walls which went on to win the NY Times Illustrated Book of the Year award.

[Wolves in the Walls]

McKean’s illustrations cross over into film, as well. In 2005, he collaborated with Gaiman and the Jim Henson Company to create Mirrormask. This is a still from the movie:

[Mirrormask]

In addition, he has done concept illustration for the Harry Potter series and collaborated with Lars von Trier’s interactive House of Zoon project in Copenhagen.

As an illustrator, he is successful because his illustrations are evocative and full of story while also being revolutionary because of his eagerness to experiment.

Bibliography:

https://arinagablog.wordpress.com/2016/03/09/dave-mckean/
http://thequietus.com/articles/17626-dave-mckean-interview
http://neilgaiman.com/Cool_Stuff/Essays/Essays_By_Neil/Neil_Gaiman_on_Dave_McKean
http://www.gaimanmckeanbooks.co.uk/
http://www.davemckean.com/

Here is my own illustration for Alice in Wonderland inspired by his illustration work. It is a mixed media piece done with collage, acrylic, gesso, ink, and soft pastels on pastel paper.

[Jackass]
shantell: Foreshortened raven staring at viewer with head cocked to the side (Default)
I continue to experiment and learn as I work on my historical survey of surrealism, and my project grows. What I'd first planned as a simple accordion-style book has turned into a piece of assemblage art. While researching the games and exercises played and implemented by surrealists, I reacquainted myself with Exquisite Corpse, a game I've frequently played throughout my life in visual and textual formats. I realized that the accordion book format is an ideal way to utilize exquisite corpse while simultaneously offering up a cross-selection of drawing styles inspired by various surrealists.

Exquisite corpse, originally called cadavre exquis,
"embodied the surrealist notions of collaboration and chance. Derived in part from a parlor game and in part from a dada game called Little Papers, in which poems were composed from randomly chosen words, the exquisite corpse was "discovered" by the surrealists in 1925 "on one of those idle, weary nights" at the residence of Tanguy, Jacques Prévert, and Marcel Duhamel at 54 rue du Chateau. Acording to Breton, a frequent "player": "What really excited us about these productions was the certainty that, no matter what, they could not possibly have been onjured up by a single brain, and that they possessed to a much greater degree the capacity for 'deviation.'

"Indeed the game's resulting images, which nearly always were anthropomorphic given the seeming preference for the vertical orientation and head-to-toe sequencing, evoke fantastic and often grotesque creatures that defy logical explanation. Since it involved chance and collaboration, the exquisite corpse separated (or at least distanced) the individual player/artist/writer from his or her creative will. And anyone could play. Certainly the naiveté of nonartists would have been welcomed in a circle in which innocence and artlessness were esteemed. But it was not all fun and games, as pointed out by Simone Kahn, Breton's first wife and frequent exquisite corpse collaborator: it was "a method of research, a way to exaltation and stimulation, a mine of numberless inventions, a drug perhaps." Bizarre creatures such as those generated via the exquisite corpse do seem to reappear in artists' individual works, most notably in Victor Brauner's mechanomorphic figures and in the quasi-totemic configurations of Wifredo (sic) Lam.

"The vast number of existing exquisite corpses, executed in a variety of media and types over many years, attest to their addictive quality. The earliest examples were drawn with graphite or ink or colored pencil on common everyday writing paper. Around 1929 to 1930, collaborators began using pastel or tempera on black paper, but because of the paper's fragility, it was often not folded. Instead, small marks to the left and/or right of the sheet indicate the divisions, or registers, of the exquisite corpse. Areas not being drawn were then covered by another sheet of paper to guarantee the chance results" (Jones L., 2012, pp. 31-32).

"Cadavre exquis drawings were inspired by an old parlour game. One evening at 54 rue du Chateau, a Surrealist meeting place in Paris between 1924-8, Jacques Prévert wrote on a piece of paper "Le cadavre exquis," folded the paper, and passed it around the room for others to write the words in their minds. The result was the powerful sentence "le cadavre exquis boira le vin nouveau" which astounded those present . Another night, they tried using imagery: one artist would draw three or four lines which would extend beyond the fold, and the next person would continue the lines until shapes emerged. Finally, this game was played by simply covering areas of the sheet.... The final result was a composition of interconnected images derived from the subconscious ideas of the artists. Simone Kahn wrote that the final results of this practice were 'creatures none of us had foreseen'" (from the Research Report for Cadavre Exquis c. 1931 obtained at The Marvin Gelber Print and Drawing Study Centre, AGO).

I chose to incorporate a cross-selections of paintings and drawings for this exquisite corpse method of delivery. The order of influences goes as follows:


  1. A drawing inspired by René Magritte's The Son of Man
  2. H. R. Giger's illustration for the cover of Danzig's album How the Gods Kill
  3. Marion Adnam's L' Infante Egaree
  4. Bridget Bate Tachenor's Velador
  5. Roberto Matta's drawing for Les Chants de Maldoror
  6. Giorgio de Chiroco's Two Mannequin Heads
  7. Salvador Dali's Venus With Drawers
  8. Hans Bellmer's La Poupée


Aside from searching online and in libraries for information pertinent to surrealism, I also travelled to Toronto on several occasions to visit the AGO. I took photographs and made sketches of original works at the Guillermo del Toro exhibition, and also visited The Marvin Gelber Print and Drawing Study Centre, AGO. There I spoke with the curator of the studio about my interest, and with the assistance of the archivists, was able to study two remarkable pieces up close and personal.

The first piece I studied is an example of cadavre exquis. It was created by Valentine Hugo, Tristan Tzara, Yves Tanguy, Paul Eluard, and Nusch Eluard circa 1931. This is a fascinating piece, not only to look at, but also from a historical perspective. It is a rare piece, as only a few were executed on black paper. The inscription on the reverse indicated which images each artist made. Valentine Hugo did the writing and the bird's head. Tzara drew the scissors. Tanguy drew the cliff and chameleon. Paul and Nusch Eluard did the rest.



The second piece I studied in detail is Two Mannequin Heads by Giorgio de Chirico. This drawing fascinated me because it is much more mechanical-looking than the majority of pieces I've studied by other surrealists. It is a beautiful drawing with excellent lines, and I decided to incorporate elements of it in my exquisite corpse study.



I want to go with the working title Body of Work. The play on words references Exquisite Corpse, the surrealists' fascination with the body, as well as the body of work put out by the surrealist movement. I have been looking at surrealists from around the world, and have been working at getting a good cross-selection of international artists. I have also been researching female surrealists, since men are more heavily represented in studies despite there having been plenty of highly-skilled and esteemed women within the movement. Some of the artists did not call themselves surrealists, but were claimed by the movement (eg. Frida Kahlo). Some dissociated themselves from the movement, but are surrealists nonetheless (eg. Salvador Dali).

With my research, I have expanded my original concept to something larger than just a book. I am creating a box to contain the book. The box contains elements of other surrealists.

I was inspired by the three-dimensional work of Méret Oppenheim, a surrealist more famous because she modelled for Man Ray than she is famous for her own works. This is unfortunate, as she was a skilled and imaginative artist in her own right. She created a fur-covered cup and saucer, and also made a diorama including feathers. I followed her influence to make an inset in my box including feathers.

Another part of the box incorporates elements of cut-up poetry. Tristan Tzara, who I discovered courtesy of the Exquisite Corpse, is considered to have been the progenitor of cut-up poetry. In 1920, "Tristan Tzara publishes 'To Make a Dadaist Poem' which instructs the reader to cut out words from a newspaper article, put them in a bag, shake, and then remove individually and compose a poem ' conscientiously in the order in which they left the bag'" (Jones, 2012, p. 63). I used this inspiration to create a poem, and combined it with collage.

The outside of the box is découpaged to continue with the surrealist theme of collage.

Jones, Leslie. Drawing Surrealism. Los Angeles, CA : Los Angeles County Museum of Art, [2012]. from pp 31-32
shantell: Foreshortened raven staring at viewer with head cocked to the side (Default)
Today I attended a summit on the intersection of arts/design/technology. I've never been to such a thing before, and saw there would be peer-to-peer break-out sessions. Not knowing what these were, I looked them up. To paraphrase, a break-out session is typically a small group discussion used to break up a series of lectures. It lets people interact with one another to share knowledge and raise questions relevant to the theme of the summit. Thus prepared, I listened to a talk put on by the head of an art gallery. Her topic was on inclusivity and decolonization. I listened, intrigued, as she talked about how a Muslim women's group had become very involved with the gallery, creating new avenues for inclusivity for all sorts of cultures/languages/backgrounds. I think that's pretty cool.

Next, she talked about decolonization. This is where things got a bit confusing for me. She talked about how it was bizarre that there is no comparable Group of Seven fame-wise for Canadian indigenous artists, and how that was ridiculous considering the number of excellent indigenous artists historically. Then she talked about how this made them rethink how they offered public workshops. It was inappropriate, she said, to hold a "paint like the masters" workshop.

This part makes no sense to me at all. Why? Michelangelo and Da Vinci are incredible artists. Anyone who learns that kind of skill is not losing anything. And one of the foremost current indigenous artist, Kent Monkman, has a classical art background. He uses these skills brilliantly to bring attention to the atrocities done in the name of colonization. This very artist recently had an exhibit in the gallery.

Now, here's where things get ironic. At the end of her talk, the floor was opened up for discussion. A white guy raised his hand and asked his question. As soon as his question was answered by the lecturer, I raised my hand to ask a question.

And that's when we were informed there was no time for further questions.

How ironic is it that a white person gets to talk during a discussion group on decolonization, but an indigenous person does not?

I'm not dissing the guy in question at all. Of course he should have a right to ask a question. But I have to admit, it kinda chafed at me that I didn't get to ask my question. So I'll ask it here.

If, as a disenfranchised indigenous person, I have not had the opportunity to learn traditional Inuit or Mi'kmaq arts, and it is now considered politically incorrect for me to learn to paint like the European master artists, what sort of art education is it expedient that I receive? Where can I learn more about indigenous art styles?

Perhaps you would like to have this dialogue with me.

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Shantell Powell

April 2018

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