Jean-Baptiste Pillement, Chinoiserie

Known primarily as the artist responsible for the popularity of Chinoiserie, Jean Pillement was quite the dark-horse. He somehow found time between designing for Gobelin and painting for the King of Portugal to invent the solar-powered electric chair and the straight banana, write Limericks (including the classic "There was a young man called Eenis..."), and fashion a remarkable likeness of his ex-wife out of shaving foam and a dagger. Despite losing all his limbs in a bizarre gardening accident at the age of eight, he once impressed Marie Antoinette by playing 'Flight of the Bumblebee' on the nose flute while stopping a rapidly spinning drill bit with his lips.

Thirsty for more? Check out this gallery of fifty-six of his fanciful Chinoiserie designs that I posted on my Flickr page. And if Chinoiserie is your monkey, this gorgeous panel by Pillement entitled 'Chinoiserie, un couple dans une barque' is worth a closer look.

Nicolas Lancret created panels and folding screens somewhat earlier than Pillement, and it's interesting to compare their styles. Lancret being flatter and dryer than Pillement, whose work shows much of the frivolity we've come to associate with Rococo.

Alphonse Mucha, 'Le Pater' Part II

Stunning 'aquarelle originale', by A. Mucha,  from the frontispiece of Le Pater

You might think that a goldfish, if granted one wish, would choose 'Strength of the Bear' over 'Invisibility', but you'd be wrong. Goldfish would rather be invisible. Sometimes they just get tired of being stared at.

Here's something besides my goldfish that I like to stare at: Alphonse Mucha's illustrations for Le Pater. I did a short post earlier on the same book, but I'm coming back to it with some more detailed photos of individual plates. They really are quite stunning, and he was a master draughtsman, so let's take a closer look.

Drinking a river of milk from the triple-breasted mother of plenty

Incurring Godly wrath for bludgeoning people with a rock. Bad boy

Actually, there's a great story related to draughtsmanship and Mucha: In 1898, the American (ex-patriot) artist James Abbott McNeill Whistler combined his teaching class with that of Mucha and together they taught painting, Illustration, composition and decorative drawing over the course of three years, ending amicably in 1901. According to Jiri (Mucha's son and sole biographer); years later when a student asked Whistler why he had so many of Mucha's posters hanging about, Whistler retorted, "So that I can show fools like you what it means to be able to draw."

Today, I had the very great fortune to study this original copy of Le Pater with a magnifying glass. What an absolute thrill. There were only ever 510 published, on the 20th of December 1899. The first ten containing original hand-painted watercolors by Mucha himself. The second set, numbers 11 through 60 (the set I studied), are listed by the publisher as being "sur japon, avec une suite en couleurs sur papiers spécial à la forme du Marais et une suite en noir sur chine."

It's interesting to me that, in the 1870s and 1880s, so many American artists went to study in Paris (e.g. Sargent, Whistler, Cassatt, Eakins, Homer) because American academic training at the time was generally considered so inadequate. Combine this with a mesmeric American fascination with the Old World, and we can begin to see why Mucha's early trips to the States were so rapturously received. And yet Mucha seemed reluctant to lap up the attention that the gentry and grandes dames of American Society were determined to bestow. Indeed, he was sick and tired of his obligations, as evidenced in a hilariously melodramatic letter he wrote in 1904:

"You've no idea how often I am crushed almost to blood by the cogwheels of this life, by this torrent which has got hold of me, robbing me of my time and forcing me to do things that are so alien to those I dream about"

Poor dear; how hellish it must have been to hang out with the likes "the beautiful" Mrs. McKay, Anne Morgan, Grace Vanderbilt, Elsie De Wolfe and Sarah Bernhardt, not to mention the President himself, sipping tea and cashing checks all day. In hindsight, his relatively earth-bound fame when compared with the likes of the stellar Whistler may possibly stem from his dislike of associating with "vulgar business society". You probably shouldn't have put that one in writing, Alfy. Once again artistic ego gets in the way of enjoying a well-lived life.

How to draw the Acanthus, Part II

The above image is from the NYPL digital archive.

This is Part Two of what was supposed to be a Trilogy of One regarding how to draw the Acanthus, but then I got confused and added another Part, so I'm not sure where I am at the moment. And besides I've had a couple of those Dogfish Head IPAs. Anyhoo, these amazing images are direct from the source, as in an original 1886 copy (!) of James Page's book about how to draw the Acanthus, called Guide for Drawing The Acanthus.

I read this on a grave from 1812 in Newburyport, Massacussetts:

'To limits fix'd our disten'd course we bend,
And with resistless haste, to death's pale empire tend,
From scene to scene, o'er shifting moments go,
And then return the grave the dust we owe.'

What's the connection? Well, it's a pretty tenuous thread I admit but I happened to really like that poem and hey, this is my blog. The link between acanthus and gravestones is the story told by Vitruvius in De Architectura IV of the architect and sculptor Callimachus, who is said to have invented the Corinthian capital. Here's the tale as told by Vitruvius himself:

"A freeborn maiden of Corinth ... was attacked by an illness and passed away. After her burial, her nurse, collecting a few little things which used to give the girl pleasure while she was alive, put them in a basket, carried it to the tomb, and laid it on top thereof. This basket happened to be placed just above the root of an acanthus. The acanthus root ... when springtime came round put forth leaves and stalks in the middle, and the stalks ... were forced to bend into volutes at the outer edges.

Just then Callimachus passed by this tomb and observed the basket with the tender young leaves growing round it. Delighted with the novel style and form, he built some columns after that pattern for the Corinthians, determined their symmetrical proportions, and established from that time forth the rules to be followed in finished works of the Corinthian order."

 

 

Islamic pattern designs

Here's something that I never tire of staring at: Islamic pattern designs from the book Moorish Remains in Spain, by the peripatetic pith-helmet clad Albert F. Calvert. I intend to do an in-depth analysis of the generation of tessellations as seen in the Arts of Arabia and Mohammedan architecture, but only when I can wrap my head around how on earth they did that stuff. I can't help feeling as though there is a key to some small understanding of the Universe hidden away in these images, but it's one that will never be mine. At least, it takes a great deal of study to unravel the geometries involved. I hope this post will help those like me who are avid admirers and amateur students.

Sir Robert Penrose, the English mathematical physicist, armed with only a pencil and notebook, developed a set of 'quasi-periodic' patterns after many years of research. Amazingly, his set consisted of only two shapes (!) that he named "kites" and "darts". The pattern laid down by these shapes is difficult to envision, but as it expands, the proportion of kites to darts approaches the golden ratio, or Phi. These patterns have parallels in the crystalline forms of chemistry, and real-world applications as (for example) non-stick coatings for frying pans.

That Penrose's work has a precedent in Islamic pattern is not a surprise. That his work is pre-dated by over 500 years, is. Physicist Peter J. Lu visited Uzbekistan and found the same pattens in the Bhukara Madrasa. Thank you Sebastian R. Prange for this incredible and fascinating article, quoted in part below:

"The tilework on the Bukhara madrasa is an example of the stylized geometric strap-work—typically based on star or polygon shapes—that is emblematic of traditional Islamic ornamentation. This form of design is known as girih patterns, from the Persian word for “knot.” It is generally believed that such designs were constructed by drafting zigzag outlines with only a straightedge and a compass. But Lu perceived something more: “I saw five-fold and ten-fold stars, which immediately aroused my curiosity about how these tilings had been made.” He wondered how Islamic craftsmen had been able to design such elaborately symmetrical patterns centuries before the advent of modern mathematics."

All images this article are reproduced from the book Moorish Remains in Spain. The New York Times article, announcing the publication of the book in 1905, quoted the author, saying:

"Neither by camera, nor by brush, nor by the pen can one reflect with any fidelity the effects obtained by the Moorish masters of the Middle Ages. In their art is to be found a sense of the mysterious that appeals to one like the glint of moonlight on running water; an intangible spirit of joyousness that one catches from the dancing shadows of leaves upon a sun-swept lawn; and an elusive key to its beauty which is lost in the bewildering maze of traceries, and the inextricable network of design. The form, if not the fantasy, of these fairy-like, fascinating decorations may, however, be reproduced, and this I have endeavored to do."

I've posted an enormous set of illustrations from the volume on my Flickr page, for those interested. There is also a post regarding the book Arabian Antiquities of Spain on this blog, also with many images, that you may wish to take a look at.In the meantime, here are a couple of the (roughly 260) images I posted on Flickr for you.

How To Make a Day of The Dead Mask

OVERVIEW 

Today I'm going to show you how to make a Day of the Dead mask. This was a great project for my eight-year old daughter and her friend. 

Day of the Dead masks, or Calacas, are a traditional part of this Mexican celebration and are a lot of fun to make. You still have time to make your costume by November 2nd, but you'll have to hurry!

Most step-by-steps that I read online suggested papier maché, but they failed to show the steps and I know why: papier maché will never dry fast enough on a child's face to be able to be removed. You'll need to use plaster if you want to make a face mold.

Jose Guadalupe Posada

SHOPPING LIST:

• Gauze bandage (preferably the pre-plastered kind), cut into small strips and squares.

• Plaster of Paris (if you can't find pre-plastered gauze bandage - see above)

• Petroleum Jelly

• Drop cloth

• Plastic containers for water and plaster, with sticks or a brush for stirring

• Lots of paper towels to clean up spills

• Small artist brushes, and 'chip' brushes (available at any hardware store)

• Water-based artist paints, various colors (I used artists acrylic colors)

• PVA/Elmer's glue, or, white primer

STEP 1

Apply a thin coat of petroleum jelly, making sure to get around the hair and chin line, and especially the eyebrows. This will allow the plaster mask to be removed more easily.

STEP 2

Mix up a batch of plaster.

In retrospect it would have been easier to use the pre-plastered strips of gauze that you just dip in water; less messy and you don't have to deal with plaster drying out in the bowl. However, using regular gauze is fine too.

Add a little powder at a time to about 1 cup water until it's a little thicker than milk. Your plaster should be thin but not too runny. It will set up very quickly, so be sure you are ready to go and have all your gauze strips cut up and handy.

STEP 3

Apply the strips carefully, paying special attention around the eyes to avoid accidents. I found it important to add extra layers on the temples and the bridge of the nose to stabilize the mask. I left plenty of space around the mouth and eyes, preferring to fill these in later.

STEP 4

Remove the mask...carefully! It's very thin and is not completely dry.

STEP 5

Add extra layers of gauze/plaster to smooth out the surface and add thickness. We painted on a layer of thinned, watery plaster (using a chip brush) once it was at the above stage, so as to create a smoother surface.

Then we put it in the oven for 30 minutes at 150º which helped dry it out (watch to make sure it doesn't start to crack). Otherwise leave it overnight in a warm dry place.

STEP 6

Once dry, you can use a folded, slightly damp rag to 'burnish' the surface until completely smooth.

STEP 7

  Seal your mask inside and out with a coat of PVA or Elmer's glue, thinned with a little water. Or you could use white water-based primer, as we did.

STEP 7

Research! There are plenty of reference images available online and waiting to inspire you. 

My daughter and her friend decided upon the La Catrina figure from Day of the Dead lore, so I drew one (above) on the computer and printed it out. This mask follows certain 'rules' as far as the look goes. Namely the large black eyes, the black Spade shape on the nose and the flower on the chin. Some also have the Viuda Negra, or Black Widow, on the forehead (which we substituted for a heart) and the web. 

I've reproduced the Illustrator drawing here for you, if you want to use that.

STEP 8

Sketch your design lightly in pencil first.

STEP 9

Time to paint! Thin artists brushes for the details and strong vibrant acrylics are best. 

The girls decided they wanted to make some changes to the initial design, which is fine, but remember: If it doesn't at least have a black nose and big black eyes, then it's not a Day of the Dead mask!

STEP 10

You could just end it here, but we added sequins around the eyes. Flowers made of tissue paper in the hair and a black veil would have completed the look, but the girls opted for more 'harlequin' and less 'calaca'. 

STEP 11

Almost there. You just need a way of holding it against your face. I used a wire & cardboard coat-hanger, and taped it to the inside of the mask. Now your Day of the Dead mask is complete. Have fun!