Wednesday, April 8, 2020

Medieval

4/8/20

       
                                 ...e continue to use the "distance learning model" to advance our studies during the pandemic. Yesterday, I met with Professor Charles on Zoom.  I almost missed our meeting, as I had become engrossed in editing my CV.  I raked my finger nails through my hair and threw on a dress, but was not in the head space to talk about the work I have been making, and which hangs in my bathroom and bedroom now awaiting next steps.  Lack of preparation was no matter, as I have learned preparation often backfires even more than winging it.  
Martin Schongauer The Temptation of St. Anthony
        Professor Charles, a painter, is someone that I do not know well, but like the other teachers, he is totally present during the conversation.  He stated early on that he is surprised that I do not use more text in my work.  This excited me, because I want to use text, and plan on using text, I just haven't quite figured out how to do it yet.  What will the text say?  I love the cryptic, but how will actual language factor into my Cryptopia?  The implication that something is trying to be said, that meaning is lurking just under the surface, like Captcha phrases, is delicious.  The suggestion of meaning, like the suggestion of importance.   He responded to one of the more rectilinear works-in-progress strongly (below), and in fact drifted back to it throughout our conversation.  He saw incipient letters in these "Elevators", and even mentioned that his 12 year old son is now working on an illuminated manuscript-style capital letter for an assignment.  I remembered including a Renaissance engraver, Martin Schongauer,  in my list of artists (on my mind while working through the pandemic at home) in an explanatory pre-meeting email.  This list, cobbled together without much thought at all, may very well have included an entirely different set of names one day earlier or one day later.   But Schongauer was frontal on my frontal that day,  as I had been transcribing notes from an art history lecture I attended recently, and Schongauer's engraving, The Temptation of Saint Anthony  (1470-1475) was mentioned as the inspiration for Michalangelo's piece (1487-88) of the same name.  This happens to be Michelangelo's first known painting.  The fantastic creatures seemed desperately familiar, but I could not at the moment put my finger on where it was that I knew them.  The lecture, which centered on the Medieval hybrids known as satyrs and centaurs, was of interest due to my interest in hybridism as it pertains to the Felcan, emergence, evolution, and fantasy.  It was not until after speaking with Professor Charles about text and Medieval manuscripts that I looked up Schongauer's engraving, thus reigniting waves of hidden childhood fervor, which felt as new as it did the first time.

 
   
Elevators  2020

           As my eyes processed and remembered these beasts- demonic violent companions from a time long ago, tingles overcame me from head to toe.  This image, estranged from my memory somehow, had been an object of much obsession for me for a time in my early youth.  What year?  I am not sure, but my dad was alive, and I can remember the green shag carpet.  I had ravaged it with my youthful eyes and drawn it line for line - painstakingly re-imagining the details too small to make out.  Where did i find it originally?  It had to be in print, as I can tell even with my hazy recollection that this relationship took place well before Google replaced my brain.  In fact, it is likely that I found it in the set of 1981 World Book Encyclopedias my Mom stored behind the sliding door of our coffee table, which was nested in the green shag carpeting.  This was the way I wanted to draw.  This image represented the ultimate in good art, as far as my preteen brain was concerned.  And I made it my masterpiece.  It became my raison d'etre as I carried it rolled in a scroll back and forth.  The memory was coming into focus.  There is escapism and refuge in the act of looking and copying.  A meaningful way to get lost in time.  A parallel memory floats by - the back page of the TV guide, wherein was always included a drawing challenge.  I may or may not have ever actually entered the contest, but the idea of copying something perfectly had come on my radar.  Others who came of age in the 80's and who loved to draw will recognize this:
Tv Guide in the 80's always included this challenge on the back page.


Bonus: "Letter O"





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