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.

old eyes

The dilemma presents itself daily....

"Excuse me sir, may I take your photo?"

"Well now young feller, why would you want a picture of an ugly old geezer like me?"

"You have an incredibly fascinating face full of character and stories"

"Does that mean I'm ugly and wrinkled and you want to 'collect' my face for your reference material?"

"Erm....uh....YES!"

How does one accost someone in the street or in the supermarket and ask them to be allowed to photograph them? How does one do it without offending? Some people are just so amazingly gnarled and carunculated that they beg to be photographed. Weather and time have etched their faces with hard won stories and maps of places and laughter and hardship.

How does one walk up to them and ask if you can take their picture?

The village I live in is small. I drive the only black Rolls Royce with a chauffeur and I tend to stand out because I wear a powdered wig, brocade coat and lace neckerchief, evidently a person of fine breeding. Do I need to wear ordinary clothes maybe?

I am at wits end. Last week I was chased around the village square by an angry mob brandishing pitchforks and flaming torches. They do not understand the necessity of a nude model for my art.

I shudder to think what they will do if I were to ask for their photograph, chosen from hundreds because of their delightful ugliness.

You would think that in this day and age the awkward puritanical urges will have been muted. NO!...have not it seems.

I despair. I really do.

Savages!

Yet the question remains, : How does one ask ugly people permission to snap their picture? (and occasionally in the nude too)

Please forward suggestions to.....

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.....