Sculpture Studio: May 2023

Sunday, May 28, 2023

They have cradled you in custom...

Carved lifesize figure by the Italian sculptor Aron Demetz.

The title of today's post is taken from Robert Service's poem,The Call of the Wild.

They have cradled you in custom, they have primed you with their preaching,
They have soaked you in convention through and through;
They have put you in a showcase; you're a credit to their teaching....

It came to my mind when reading the following comment by "W.E.Man" on the BVI News on Line:

Why do children have to wear a school uniform in this day and age? It makes them all look the same, just split into two genders. Children grow up blindly following established rules and social norms. They should instead be encouraged at an early age to explore their creative side and learn to express themselves as individuals...

The outrage it provoked from other readers could not have been worse had he suggested burning down schools and doing away with education altogether.

A comment I submitted in response,and in support of creative individuals, was firmly blocked by the website's moderator!

This surely supports the need for creative artists blessed with a different way of seeing. The work of the Italian sculptor Aron Demetz being a good example.

As a footnote: The anonymity allowed to contributors on social media sites allows free rein for abuse. And all the more so, if moderators turn a blind eye.

Saturday, May 20, 2023

Termites have taste. Part Two

My studio bookshelf that has a magnetic attraction for ants and termites.

Seven years ago I posted on how termites had developed a taste for my collection of jazz LPs. Last week I discovered that the same creatures also have literary taste. There were many lesser volumes that they could have got their teeth into, but as with my record collection, they only go after the best.

I has taken me five days to evict the unwanted guests and rebuild the bookshelves. The only redeeming factor was that they considered my own books to be of literary merit. The picture below shows their attempt to devour one of the diaries I made while travelling the Caribbean forty years ago in search of material for my book Caribbean Sketches.

Friday, May 12, 2023

A running commentary

The audience at Dominica's Jazz n Creole Festival.

If my life was limited to painting pictures I would have no problem illustrating these posts. But only a fraction of my time is spent doing that. Every day my mind travels from one thing to another. It becomes a running commentary on all things.

In addition to doing essential building maintenance in readiness for the hurricane season the last week has been spent writing on subjects that range from jazz - that definitely isn't jazz - to civil engineering that comprises of a catalogue of blunders. Not to mention, with a dose of education reform squeezed between the two.

At the end of the day (week) maybe pictures say it clearer than the written word. The one above shows Dominica's jazz devotees(sic) and the one below shows Dominica's main east/west highway.

Dominica's Imperial Highway at the point where it passes the entrance to my studio.

The following is my say on the first picture:

In terms of attendance and income, the Dominica Festivals Committee could do even better by changing the name of the event. May I suggest: “Dominica Popular Music Festival, et al.”. This would definitely draw the crowds and at the same time prevent the genre of jazz being dumbed down into something it is not.

With a separate event devoted to jazz and its creole influence we could begin to foster an appreciation for one of the world’s most profound art forms, and moreover, an understanding in young Dominicans that this art form was created by those of African and Creole descent. Such an event may not initially draw the crowds but it would in time appeal to the cognoscenti, as the success of real jazz festivals throughout the world have proven.

As my say on the second picture extends to a 4,000 word report I'll save it for another slow news week in terms of my work as a painter and sculptor. Instead, I'll close with Billie Holiday reminding us of what real jazz if all about.

This recording of Billie Holiday singing "Fine and Mellow" includes: Ben Webster - tenor saxophone, Lester Young - tenor saxophone, Vic Dickenson - trombone, Gerry Mulligan - baritone saxophone, Coleman Hawkins - tenor saxophone, Roy Eldridge - trumpet, Doc Cheatham - trumpet, Danny Barker - guitar, Milt Hinton - double bass, Mal Waldron - piano and Osie Johnson - drums.

Wednesday, May 3, 2023

She's got more balls than me!

My wife Denise crawling between the inner and outer glass roofs of what was,

in the 1990's, my studio in the UK.

The above picture shows that spectacular roof after ten years of restoration.

I was up at the first light of dawn this morning working on the roof of the studio. The roof is flat concrete and nowhere near as spectacular as the roof of what was our studio in the UK. Before I climbed the ladder, I told Denise, if anyone's looking for me, I'm up on the roof. Those words brought to mind many Burnett family stories about working on roofs.

While Denise was perched fifty feet above the studio floor, cleaning 120 years of soot that had accumulated between the inner and outer glass roof shown above, the delivery man came with our gas bottles. He looked aloft in amazement and said, "Rog, there's someone up in your roof". When I told him it's only the wife, he responded, "She's got more balls than me!"

In the early years of the last century, a Yorkshire newspaper sent a reporter to interview one of my great aunts on her 100th birthday. On arriving he found the front door of her house open. He called out Mrs. Burnett and got the answer, "I'm up here". Thinking that the poor old dear was bedridden, he climbed the stairs only to find her bed empty. He called out again and this time realised that the response, "I'm up here", came from outside. On going into the street he looked up. And there she was, on the roof with a bucket of mortar pointing the chimney!

He must have also echoed the words: She's got more balls than me!

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July 22nd 2000

With my family I arrived in England five years ago. The first two years were spent working on the building and applying for Arts Council lottery funding. Alas, the Council considered figurative sculpture elitist and of no interest to the general public.

After three years our savings were spent and in desperation I began doing what I came to England to do: to work as a sculptor. In our impoverished state the odds were against us. A year passed with not a single commission and not a penny of income. Then the tide turned. If two years ago it had been predicted that my studio would today be bursting at the seams with work, I would have dismissed the notion as a complete fallacy.

Sculpture for the City of Leeds

The end result for those of us working in the visual arts is something that is capable of being seen. In the long term the success of a piece of work is, to a large degree, measured by how many people look at it. But in the beginning the work cannot be seen by anyone on the outside. It exists only in the mind's eye of the artist. That is where the figures for Leeds have been for the last three months. During that period there hasn't been a day - or night - when I haven't worked upon them. I've moved them through every position imaginable: standing, sitting, leaning, squatting, huddled together, set apart. I've added figures and switched males for females. My couple - for that's what I finished up with - then gave birth to a child. The toddler peeps at the Frenchman playing boules from behind his/her mother's skirt. The work has been created and torn apart a hundred times. But as yet I haven't set down anything on paper or built up anything in clay. My successes and failures have gone unseen. And as much as I want to open up the creative process through these diary pages, the first stage is too elusive be put into words.

Trina's Portrait

"Have you nearly finished, my neck aches". After five minutes Trina, my youngest daughter, has had enough of modelling. Actually her impatience works to my advantage. I know I have to work fast, and working without a second to spare usually produces my best work. I started today's session started by wiping out half a day's work. I had previously added her hair but the result didn't please me. I had invented a head of hair and not paid close enough attention to the real head of hair. The first attempt looked like something out of a hairdresser's window. Maybe that is why Trina liked it the best!

So much to learn

In this day and age there is little in the way of guidance for aspiring sculptors. There are no schools that teach the disciplines as fully as they were taught a hundred years ago, there are few books and precious few masters alive to train the next generation. One must learn as best one can. Ton after ton of clay must pass through the sculptor's hands and hour upon hour must be spent working from the live model. It isn't easy and a lifetime isn't long enough to learn all that must be learnt. There is nothing more difficult to model convincingly than the human hand. If the hand is done well the observer doesn't stop to count the fingers.

Church Window Layout

In between modelling sessions I have been drawing the millennium church window full size. This will help me to come to terms with the daunting scale of depicting Christ Triumphant. My Christ Triumphant unleashing a flock of doves has been rejected. The church has requested that I keep to the more familiar vision of Christ with arms beckoning. At least my model will be pleased that he hasn't to contort himself into that pose anymore. Michelangelo had his fair share of rejections from Church Councils. Once, in an attempt to please, he went so far as to devise a statue that incorporated a barber's shop within the figure’s lower extremities and - as a master-stroke - put a chimney coming out of its head!

Mould Divisions

Three-dimensional jigsaw puzzles are nothing new: sculptors have been doing them for hundreds of years. But this is no game. The problem is mind boggling. Somehow, the three standing figures have to be divided into sections of a mould. The seams are made with lengths of brass shim that are pressed into the clay of the figures. Eventually the clay will be covered with plaster to form what is called a waste mould. At the moment this may sound very confusing but over the next couple of months you will learn a lot about the process. This is the most complex mould that I have ever made and one to test my ingenuity. I was awake thinking about it at three o'clock this morning. If I get it wrong the figures will be entombed like a mummy. As I work I imagine the skilled moulders of earlier times critically looking down on me and laying bets on the outcome of my work.

30th June 2000

I've managed to dodge colds all winter. Just my luck that I get one now! This I could have done without. Maybe if I worked in advertising or accountancy I'd have taken the day off and stayed in bed, but in this line of work you don't even think of it. The molds have to be at the foundry in two weeks and at the foundry they will be. The picture shows Denise - on her one day off from college - chipping away at the waste mould of Samantha. In the background Richard, my assistant, is working on the mold for the Bond Court figures.

4th July 2000

So much depends on the model, and with models I have always been fortunate. Elizabeth has dedicated herself to the task and that dedication shines through in the finished work. The pose has been painfully difficult but she's never complained. Furthermore, she's fitted the modelling in between moving house, looking after her family and driving the truck for her husband’s business. She always shown up on time and has never missed a session. Thanks Elizabeth. In turn I've given my best. It's all I can do.

Portrait Demonstration - Megan

For the Allen Gallery I did two demonstration portrait sessions before a live audience and television. Two models on consecutive days, starting at ten in the morning and finishing at four in the afternoon with an hour for lunch. The models, Megan and Jag, were the winners of a primary school art competition. Their prize was a portrait session. A portrait from start to finish in no more than five hours, before an inquisitive audience and the press, is a tall order. I doubt if there are many sculptors that would dare to take it on. I did and here are the results. Thanks Megan and Jag, for making it possible.

Patina

It seems that a successful patina, like a good watercolour, is the result of a happy accident. On my fourth attempt Xander's bust turned out to perfection. It in fact put Trina's in the shade and gave me a hard act to follow on the torso. I can well imagine that, if I keep at it, in twenty years I'll be experienced enough to understand every subtle shade of the business. Just like the episode of Pooter painting the bath in "The Diary of a Nobody" I got quite carried away with applying patinas. Switching from bronze to the plaster I gave Elizabeth’s figure a coat of burnt umber.

Henry Moor Institute

I got quite a shock today on visiting the current exhibition at the Henry Moor Institute in Leeds. The gallery was actually thronged with real people. By real people, I mean those you'd expect to see in everyday life. Usually the only sign of human life is the ever present black shirt attendants. The exhibition of portrait busts is aptly titled "Return to Life". I hope that the attendance figures don't scare off the institute from ever doing such a show again. Being popular to the masses is not exactly in their remit. It would have been nice to have included a photograph so as to encourage even more of the public at large to visit this excellent presentation. I asked a black-shirt but was told that photography is strictly forbidden.

A Ray of West Indian Sunshine

On Saturday I attended a Postgraduate Seminar on Portraiture at the Henry Moore Institute. Even at its most informal, events at the Institute are lodged at the higher end of the scholastic scale. As such its presentations are totally at odds with my premise that: with sculpture, as with sex, intellectual thought only screws things up. For this particular seminar it was even doubtful if I would be allowed in. As with many working sculptors, my academic education amounts to no more than secondary modern school. But Saturday turned out to be a rare and rewarding day. To find a West Indian in the audience is a rarity, even rarer to find that - my God - she's one of the presenters! Charmaine Nelson brought a wonderful ray of Jamaican sunshine into a lecture room that normally has the feel of an Icelandic family mausoleum. Her paper "White Marble, Black Bodies and the Fear of the Invisible Negro: Signifying Blackness in mid-Nineteenth-Century Neoclassical Sculpture" wonderfully linked with all that I have been working for over the years in my adopted Caribbean. Charmaine, for the first time in five years of lectures, you made me miss my train home. Thanks!

At a fleeting glance

Waldemar Januszczak, art critic for the Sunday Times, wrote recently about painting quickly. Both as painter and sculptor, the faster I work the better. What is seen at a glance has to be captured in a moment. A climax cannot be sustained forever. But as Januszczat says: "Painting quickly is still seen in academic circles as a threat to civilization. Those artists who appear to breeze in and do it without a proper amount of effort still seem to us to be breaking all the rules. With other art forms the ability to work quickly is recognised as a sign of genius but a quick painter remains (alas) a slap happy painter." Alas, a slap-happy painter and sculptor I remain. This little sketch was completed on the run in Grenada's market place.