I'm resolutely refusing to let it get to me.
We've only had four classes of Human Image: Capturing Identity and Essence and I feel like I've already fought a whole uphill battle and gotten nowhere. I haven't even hit the "Capturing Identity and Essence" part. I'm still trying to figure out the "Human Image" part. If I could tell past me anything it would be to take Portrait Painting before this class and save myself a little trouble. But, of course, with scheduling that would have been impossible anyways. This is for the best. Even if I'm struggling.
As I finished in my last blog on Monday, I've started practicing in my sketchbook (who would have thought that sketchbooks could be used outside of class to supplement learning?? Certainly not my life drawing professor who gave us sketchbook assignments outside of class every week to help us master figure drawing in just 10 weeks. Thank you Professor Hung) so that I can get better a lot faster than I...am. I started working in acrylic and felt fairly good until class on Tuesday when my professor reminded us we'd be working in a limited color palette of Burnt Sienna, Burnt Umber, Yellow Ochre, Ultramarine Blue, and Titanium White.
This is what my palette eventually looked like after a lot of trial and error with color mixing. And after ditching acrylics again.
My first day back to drawing from a live model was not...I would say...successful. It took me a while to realize that when drawing from a figure it wasn't good for me to just start painting like I can do when painting other kinds of still lives. As I said earlier, I haven't even gotten to the painting identity and essence part. I can't get past getting the figure right. And maybe I'm getting too hung up on accurate representation of the human figure but I'm going to keep being hung up on it until I'm satisfied.
Each class I leave feeling bummed, dissatisfied, and ambiguously angry. Ambiguously because I can never really tell what I'm mad at. Myself? My professor? The model? Paint? It's frustrating not being instantly good at something and having to work at it. So after class, like I did on Monday, I pulled out my sketchbook, gessoed some papers, and dragged my butt to the studio to work some more. I played around with acrylics one more time before deciding my paint was frankly too cheap to mix the colors I needed to mix with a limited palette. Like, I'm not trying to blame the material because I often don't believe you need expensive materials to create good work but with acrylics you can only mix so much before paint turns a gross grey-brown. Especially when the paint's filled with filler. So I had to ditch the acrylics. But I had calmed my earlier disappointment once again with my sketchbook practice and felt good calling it a night after a couple of sketches.
More acrylic on gessoed paper. My old life drawing professor once said when you feel bad about your work not being appreciated in an academic setting you should post it on facebook or instagram so your family can see it and your confidence will be restored. He was right.
Wednesday I went up to the studio a couple of hours before my 5 o'clock class so I could get some more practicing in but ended up leaving after finishing my English and Print Making work because I felt sick. So Thursday I walked into class feeling great and ready to work. I felt optimistic and confident. I had started a moodboard with inspiration on Pinterest and I had thought of a great idea for my midterm project. I started with a quick sketch of the model and felt confident enough to start on my 30x30 canvas which had been daunting me since I bought it on Tuesday.
And then...it all fell apart. I've been rather dramatic this week and my emotions are on a rollercoaster so really it wasn't as bad as I still feel like it was. I started to lose my confidence the more I painted. I had thought of an interesting composition as I sketched the model out on my canvas but accidentally lost it and ended up messing up my proportions which I thought I could fix with a cool idea that ended up falling flat and leaving me with more ambiguously smudged paint that did not look good. My colors ended up getting muddy as I tried to make this limited color palette work in ways it probably wasn't meant to. And my professor kept coming by to give me slight critique, really just tips to help me make the painting better, and floating around the room to praise other students.
Now I know comparison kills or whatever and I should be focussing on my own work rather than listening to my professor talk to other students. But as I worked so hard to try to make my painting work I couldn't help but notice the bits of praise he gave other students and the lack of praise I was getting. I knew my painting wasn't good. I still don't like it and didn't like it for the majority of my time painting it. But I can honestly say it's a huge improvement from my other paintings. And really that's all the recognition I wanted.
Like I said it feels like I've fought a whole uphill battle and gotten nowhere. I left class today honestly fuming. I wasn't ambiguously mad. I was mad at myself. I was mad at my paint. I was mad at my professor. I was mad at the model. I was mad at my class. Really I was dramatic and a more than a little pissy so I left my stuff in my dorm and blew off steam with a good walk to Target and some retail therapy, if you could call it that. And after hitting my 10,000 steps and buying a couple of facemasks, I picked up my stuff again and set off to the studio with burning determination. I didn't try much on anything pre-college but since coming to art school I've had some unquenchable desire to actually try and achieve something. So I sat down in the studio, finished my English homework, pulled up a live model session on youtube, and set out to paint until I was proud of something.
And finally I think I get it. I think I get painting human image and this limited color palette and all of the help my professor was trying to give me in class.
I still, obviously, have a lot more practicing to do. But I'm glad I have this drive that makes me want to try harder when I really just want myself to give up and sulk. I know the more I work at it the better I'll get. Last quarter my professor told me to kick his ass and then kick my own after I did that. So I guess my goal is to kick both of our asses. Or something.