the whole deal

Here is the whole thing.

Its 20 by 20 inches (about 50 by 50cm) in reality.

Does it work? Does it do what its supposed to do? What does it mean? Aaaah yes the joys of second guessing it after its done. Its like having a bee trapped against a window trying to get out. Buzzing in the back of my head constantly.

Thankfully it is friday and the weekend is soon to arrive. (I have the weekend flown to my estate by large helicopter to ensure that it gets here on time)

Whats next? Well, a design for a cycling jersey.

I hear Hoarknockle coming down the corridor with a fragrant Sancerre Neveu 2007, chilled to perfection, accompanied by a small wedge of Brie. He bought it from the cellars in the Loire Valley on his way back from Berlin. That and a few cases of Montrachet and other delicate things.

One has to do what one can to survive out here in the country.

Cheers!

Redone

I whipped Hoarknockle severely for allowing the earlier picture to go out. It wasn't good enough. Next time he will be more attentive.

This is the revised version. I prefer it. Looks like Lizard Man.

And now...... the image, the whole thing is done!

Hoarknockle is opening the champagne.

I think its time to take the Lagonda out for an afternoon drive to revive me.

Maybe take a few weeks off to visit the islands.

wrinkly

Almost done.

One more to go.

When does one stop working an image? Such an arbitrary point.

The completed one at top may be a little overworked... may have to go at it again with an eraser and loosen it up a little. It started out so well. Got too enthusiastic and carried away.

Back to the drawing table...

Whirr sharpen pencil...

Gink! Gink! dipping pen in ink...

Scratch of nib on paper...

Scrape scrape and scribble

Just a soundtrack really. I work with a plastic tipped stylus on a Wacom surface.

The sounds I make as I draw are a lot more interesting than the real ones.

I can also get Hoarknockle down here to supply sound effects...like the sound of ice cubes in a gin and tonic. Or tea being poured into bone china cups. Or that groan he makes when I have him piggy back me up the stairs.

gritty and old

I needed some texture to liven up the images I'm making. This is my own eye after a night of profound en committed revelry. After liberal application of liquid nitrogen I managed to iron out the worst of the wrinkles. I wonder what I could do to revitalise the liver?

These eyes are all part of a final piece, a collection of 20 eyes... or rather 19 and one Fl-eye.

I am hoping to enter the piece for an art competition. Only 3 more eyes to go.

cheers!

only a few to go now

a few more...

I have been grappling with the problem of style...in this series of eyes each eye seems to find its own way. The question is concerning consistency of style. Does one believe that because the same hand crafts it, that it will remain within the same stylistic trend? Or does one have to strive constantly for the same feel?

When does it become mindless repetition and when is it strength of style?

I would want to believe that these are all from the same stylistic stable and that the minor variation in handling adds energy and flavour changes to this dish. It allows for growth and evolution. Hopefully improvement.

As this image grows it takes on a life of its own and seems to dictate its own personality. So far I havent yet shown the entire piece, only parts. The idea is for it to be a collection of images like a butterfly collection in a box, not merely a photo album. I refrained from pinning the images down, the visual effect of driving a sharp steel pin through an eyeball seemed just too aimed at shock tactics. Not my motive.

I have enough trophies throughout my house, stuffed heads from expeditions over a number of years. No animals were killed or harmed in the collection of these trophies. (PETA please take note!)

Imagine opening a matchbox and finding an eye in it. Problem is that one doesnt really see matchboxes that often anymore. All just lighters nowadays. Those little boxes were so handy.

The hounds are restless today, I hear them baying in the stables.

Lady Sandra is home today and tea is being served on the terrace. Devon clotted cream, fresh strawberry jam and scones, I believe. Delightful. Hoarknockle will have my G&T ready for me en route to the terrace, my trusted malarial antidote no less.

fly eye

This image must certainly fly in the face of sound judgement. (or a bad pun)

This returns to the 17th C notion of vanitas, the decay of beauty as expressed in so many northern european paintings. The used flowers drooping, insects crawling, skulls and any other clever analogy of decay and death they could think of. (this is obviously before the time of Quentin Tarantino and his unique view of death)

The artists painted like angels but had to justify their pursuit of beauty by showing a neat little lesson packaged into the virtuoso smears of paint, or else they would have been seen as show offs and arrogant technicians.Gee.... one only needs to look at that famous self portrait by Durer to see that he was pretty taken by himself. And not one insect in sight.

There is something so inherently filthy about flies...or is it just our reaction to them? Or is it because they seem to flock to anything stinky?

No matter... here I have juxtaposed a fly with the body part that is seen as the window of the soul. Such a wonderfully old notion and so gleefully poetic.

Although flies are now studied for their ability to fly and be so small at the same time.

Apparently fly larvae or maggots as they are called, are the best source of pure protein to be found. Just try and imagine that they are quivering grains of rice and tuck in....

Insects are so brilliantly designed, so clever and visually varied, so full of fabulous texture and colour. Not only that but they are wonderful to draw.

I hear the hounds baying, must be time for the hunt. Lets hope I can bag something in my dreadfully sober condition.

I really must.....fly?

millions of fine lines

I alternate between the spectacles I wear...one is good for medium distance work and the other for closer. There is some kind of irony in wearing glasses while I work on eyes. Wonder if I could just draw myself a pair of eyes which dont need glasses? Another question that comes to mind is: "Can the eyes I am drawing, see me?" Maybe they are portals to another dimension.

I have more than halfway to go yet... another 11 eyes to go.

Tea....I need tea. And its nearly lunch time. (they dont allow me to drink before evening!)

moreyes

Interesting how things happen.... how they start out and then seem to find their own way?

The eyes picture was something I was pursuing and had no final goal or conclusion planned for it.

After an evening of peyote and some good mescaline I had a dream of a wall of eyes all looking at me. (or maybe it was just the good gin Hoarknockle managed to secure?)

I had my tailor pick apart the finely stitched images I had sewn to the old paper to make a collection.

I am currently engaged in putting together a completely new collection of eyes, stitching them onto a beautifully discoloured piece of old parchment I tore from a book I saw standing on rather an overly ornate golden pulpit.

The piece will contain 20 eyes....not quite the hundreds I had seen in my dream, but I am human and want to draw them all myself.... although I may consider shucking them from people's heads as I pass them in the street. Oddly enough this isnt seen as artistic license.

I hear Hoarknockle calling... I believe its venison for dinner. Ugh! I have to don bowtie and tails for the formal dining room. At least the wine should be good. "Howling Bluff" Pinot Noir will be served. (Winner of the 2009 Lieutenant Governor's Award for Excellence) Bliss!

Meanwhile I will limber up with a quick G&T.

Lady Sandra has been shooting me some wicked "come hither" looks all day....

The large "EYE" piece will be growing in my mind.

Hoarknockle is getting impatient... says something about lady Sandra running naked in the west wing and calling me from the battlements....

I need to go.....

one more...again

here is the last one in the strip of eyes. I thought a slight change of pace would be in order.

I sit working at my glowing screen in the basement with only the muted hum of the computer fan, occasionally Axel the Weimeraner hunting dog stirs and snorts in his sleep.

Apart from those slight sounds, the only noise comes from my head.

I love the feel of the tiger skin rug at my feet. (an old trophy from my days as a hunter...yes yes I know... its so cruel! I didnt kill Hobbs, I promised Calvin I would find my own version)

The most difficult thing about this drawing was having to cut a slit through my other eyelid to see my eye closed while I drew. You have no idea what lengths I go to in order to make my art.

For my next image I want to draw an eyeball...hmmmmm now where is Hoarknockle when I need him?

another eye and one to go

here is the next one. Its an eye from the side, straining to see something.

The shred of paper its on was a receipt for a photograph taken of my great grandfather in New York. I digitally removed all the writing and saved the piece as an almost clean piece, keeping as many of the real smudges and stains as I could.

The actual paper is so fragile and brittle.

eye illustration collection

Another eye. On a dirty mangled piece of card to contrast with the seductive quality of the eye. Playing on the 17th Century idea of 'vanitas' - the decay of youth and beauty. (how dreadfully depressing!)

This is an actual card which I made and aged and keep in my collection of spotty and stained papers and cards. Locked in a huge vault along with the family diamonds that were looted in old colonial days. Oh! Cant say that.....its not politically correct. Oh bother!

Eyes have it

I love to collect things. I love old things that have a patina and tell a story. I love how things grow spots and marks like lichens on a rock.

Eyes are very expressive parts of the body. I always look at a person's eyes to see what kind of human they are. Even the most beautiful people can often have lifeless eyes, they always tell the truth about us.

I have seen collections of butterflies and other insects pinned to cards in cases on display in museums. They are such a wonderful relic of long gone times of exploring and discovery, the method naturalists used to bring back specimens from far off places as they came creaking back on some smelly wooden sailing ship to show the world what they had found.

What if one collected eyes that way? It makes my skin crawl at the thought of sticking a pin into an eye.

I am trying to draw them as realistically as possible and yet it makes the whole collection of eyes on cards (yes there are more to come) quite surreal.

Imagine a large canvas...a really big one...at least a meter square (to those among us who are still caught in the ancient tradition of Imperial or statute measurements, thats about a yard) filled with small cards with eyes painted or drawn onto them. A black surface with all these yellowed and mottled and torn cards with eyes on them....IMAGINE a whole room with al its walls and ceiling covered in individual eyes on cards.....

Time to get back to work. Almost time for my luncheon which is, I believe, some smoked salmon on crusty peasant (they are occasionally useful I must concede) bread with a small dollop of sour cream. Maybe Hoarknockle (the new butler) will pop a single bead of caviar on top.

And Earl Grey tea..... certainly.