The Golden Age of American Illustration Show I took in at Pepperdine continues to put a bee into my bonnet. And if the stings are inspiration, then Sting me, by God, Sting ME! Although arguably, a wasp would be more appropriate. I'd hate to think I make one decent piece and never get another dose.
In any event, the show had several pieces by two of my favorite pen & ink men: Charles Dana Gibson and Joseph Clement Coll. Master draughtsmen both, Gibson had a gift for beauty and elegance with a dose of humor under the veneer, and Coll...criminey...Coll wielded a pen more elegantly than most can wield a brush. In some ways, looking at their work in person could convince you to never fling ink again, but all too often, aiming for the stars helps you to fall in just the right range.
Having said all that, this piece was another inspired by classical mythology, in this case, the death of Orpheus. When the "father of all songs" failed to bring his beloved back from the Underworld, he was said to spurn all affection and was eventually ripped to pieces for it. (Although, as this is the internet, I feel compelled to mention that in some versions of the stories, he only spurned all women and turned to boys.) His body floated down the Hebrus river with his lyre still playing a mournful tune that bummed all of nature out until he emerged into the sea and washed up on the coast of Lesbos. My drawing enters the scene there, as a bather discovers the musician's remains.
Showing posts with label Orpheus. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Orpheus. Show all posts
Monday, May 27, 2013
Friday, March 02, 2012
"I am a lie who always speaks the truth."
Our final European film director is the reverie-inducing Jean Cocteau.
Cocteau worked as a poet, novelist, dramaturge, designer, artist and even helped create some ballet along with writing a libretto or two. Oh, and he made films. All in all, something of a layabout....
I jest, of course. Recounting Cocteau's achievements in even a few of his chosen art forms would take far longer than I have to discuss him, especially as I've only chipped away at the top of the iceberg myself. He is perhaps best known today for his beautifully filmed rendition of Beauty and the Beast (1946), and for the Orpheus trilogy (The Blood of a Poet (1930), Orpheus (1950) and The Testament of Orpheus (1960) ).
My first exposure to his work was while in college. A friend in an avant-garde jazz band invited me to a screening that his group would score of a Man Ray short and Cocteau's Blood of a Poet. It was an immensely enjoyable evening, but what struck me most was the reaction of the crowd to Poet. Though Cocteau's camera tricks were easy for me to decipher, it was wonderful how these fairly simple in-camera effects still drew gasps of surprise from the crowd. If anything, it proved that it's not the complexity of the trick, but rather the simple elegance of how you pull it off.
Cocteau worked as a poet, novelist, dramaturge, designer, artist and even helped create some ballet along with writing a libretto or two. Oh, and he made films. All in all, something of a layabout....
I jest, of course. Recounting Cocteau's achievements in even a few of his chosen art forms would take far longer than I have to discuss him, especially as I've only chipped away at the top of the iceberg myself. He is perhaps best known today for his beautifully filmed rendition of Beauty and the Beast (1946), and for the Orpheus trilogy (The Blood of a Poet (1930), Orpheus (1950) and The Testament of Orpheus (1960) ).
My first exposure to his work was while in college. A friend in an avant-garde jazz band invited me to a screening that his group would score of a Man Ray short and Cocteau's Blood of a Poet. It was an immensely enjoyable evening, but what struck me most was the reaction of the crowd to Poet. Though Cocteau's camera tricks were easy for me to decipher, it was wonderful how these fairly simple in-camera effects still drew gasps of surprise from the crowd. If anything, it proved that it's not the complexity of the trick, but rather the simple elegance of how you pull it off.
Labels:
creation,
film history,
ink,
Jean Cocteau,
Orpheus,
sketch,
The Blood of a Poet
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