Egon Schiele

 

Years ago, I viewed a major exhibition of Egon Schiele's paintings and drawings at MoMA. Photographs of his work in Art History 101 had not prepared me for the nuances of Schiele's startling imagery.

Standing in front of his large canvasses, bits of contrasting colors, scrumbled lines and underpainting became abundantly clear. Even Schiele's finished paintings have a mosaic-like drawn quality that I found quite appealing.

These were not erotic in the sense of being titillating, but were rather illuminating, as one realized Schiele's masterful draughtsmanship, sense of color and love of form.

My Summer Book

For many moons I have wanted to combine my two creative joys, writing and image making, into book form. My ignorance of complex design software and the cost of printing hundreds of copies always stood in the way of my book goal.

The internet and digital revolutions have given rise to various print-on-demand companies (POD), which are able to economically print one book or hundreds of them. The clincher for me happened when these companies began offering software so simple even a tech troll like myself could use it.

Even so, my summer project of producing a first book has only now gone to press. Titled Fear of Flying, the small book is a compilation of line drawings illustrated with short prose. When I allow myself to think about it, I realize that life is strange and even absurdly funny. The book is a result of giving in to the joy of odd.

Moving In And Drawing Out

In this the hottest day of the hottest month, workers have decided to show up to continue some much delayed home renovation. This Old House this is not and the sound of hammers and saws is often followed by long stretches of silence. Peeking out the window, I discover they've left without a word. Will they be back today, tomorrow?

This sort of home invasion has continued for over a week and my only sanctuary has become the drawing room. In a distant corner from the clang and bang, I start by letting my pen do some walking around on the paper. Later, as a rudimentary image begins to appear, I take over and guide the drawing to completion. This peculiar drawing method has produced a bestiary of critters, two of which appear above.

Drawing Without Borders

In 1964, as it became apparent American kids would be going to Viet Nam, I made the easy decision to go to college instead. In the following weeks I slogged through mind numbing courses on logic, calculus, and earth science, more than once wondering if I had made the right decision.

My first art class, Basics of Drawing, promised to be a piece of cake by comparison. After all, I had been drawing since first grade, so how hard could a beginning course be. There were seven of us in the class, all veterans of excellent high school art programs.

Our smugness that first day lay thick like gesso. Our air of superiority lasted all trimester. Exercises on contour drawing, gesture drawing, value drawing, and shapes were no match for the Magnificent Seven.

By trimesters end, all of us felt certain we had aced Basics of Drawing. But, instead of accolades came the unwelcome news that there would be a final exam. After much rolling of eyes and grumbling, some decided it might be smart to hit the books the night before. Book knowledge, it turned out, would not prepare this group of over-achievers.

Next day, Mrs. Bedeau, a no-nonsense and usually punctual woman, strode into class ten minutes late. And as if to heighten the growing suspense, she said nothing, but looked at each of us in turn. A faint smile crossed her face.

“Your final exam today will be a drawing assignment.”

Turning away from us, Mrs. Bedeau placed something carefully on the drawing stand. Then standing aside, she pointed down at the small object.

“I want you to spend the entire two hours drawing this.”

Before anyone could respond, she was out the door and gone.

All of us moved in to get a better look at that mysterious object. We gazed in astonishment at that which would determine our final grade in Basics of Drawing. It was an egg.

Mrs. Bedeau, in her wisdom, had picked the perfect object with which to deflate a group of art prima donnas. Designed by nature to make life easy on the hen, the egg is neither a circle nor an ellipse, but a combination of the two- a spheroid.

I took one look at that little ovo and knew I was screwed. None of the failsafe methods we fell back on would suffice this time. Outlines would not work for there were no lines. Texture was nowhere to be found and contrast existed only as a subtle difference between egg-shell white and the off white drawing stand. I could not detect a single light source since the room was bathed in an irritating ambient glow.

Nothing would do but to start all over, first by simply looking at the object, in this case an egg, in a new way. After a while, I began to notice minute tonal shifts on the egg’s surface. I found what I thought were the points where the circle and ellipse joined, the lightest area. And that is where I began drawing.

Two hours later, my finished drawing looked stiff, awkward, and altogether un-egg like, but that was the exact moment when I began learning how to draw.

Rare James Michaels Drawing Resurfaces

The day after Christmas, Florida art collector Wayne Notsag decided to clean out several years’ worth of accumulated receipts and old papers. Little did he realize that the unwelcome chore would turn up a long lost treasure.

“I had just thrown a bunch of cancelled lottery tickets into the dumpster,” said Notsag. “Then I saw Mickey’s fat little face smiling up at me. It took some doing, but I was able to save the drawing.”

The art work turned out to be a rare James Michaels drawing of Mickey Mouse from Michaels’ late “Rotund Period.” The piece, titled BMI Mickey, had gone missing months earlier, and Notsag feared it had been stolen by international hooligans.

“James has a wonderful habit of handing out on-the-spot drawings to children at art shows,” said Notsag. “A little boy dropped this drawing and I somehow forgot to give it back to him.” When pressed for details, Notsag confided, “Well, it is an original James Michaels.”

Art experts have agreed it may be difficult to place a price on BMI Mickey since it is a unique drawing and Michaels is reported to still be alive. Notsag was recently asked his own estimate of the drawing’s market value, should he choose to sell it.

“Let’s just say I could buy a whole lot of lottery tickets.”

A Question Of Perception

Man walks up says, Saw you in the newspaper again, you're big-deal famous now, must be makin’ a ton of money too huh?

"No, not really."

Yeah, probably way outa my league. I could maybe afford the frame. Say, what kinda art you do anyway? You a painter? My wife's cousins a painter, yeah, damn good one too, she sold one of those, whaddia call em, still lifes, yeah, sold it to the mayor's wife up in Toledo. So, you paint still lifes?

"No, I'm a drawer."

Drawer! Whazzat? Like what my kid Joey does, with crayons 'n stuff? Hey, you shoulda seen the picture Joey did the other night, picture a Sylvester Stallone. Looked just like him too. Wife put it on the fridge, says he's gonna be another Michaelangelo. . . . . or maybe famous like you. Hey look, do me a favor will ya? Draw me a quick picture, nothin’ fancy, jus' somethin’ I can give Joey, a picture from a famous artist. Boy will he be surprised. Here's a pen and paper, come on, whaddia say?

"Sorry, I don't do that kind of drawing."

Say listen, I’m an art collector too. Yeah, I got fancy dinner plates with pictures of the presidents painted on ‘em. So life like they are! When the mother-in-law visits, I always give her the George W. Bush plate. Say, what’d you say your name was?

Inside The Fantasy Factory

The bane of us former commercial artists is for our fine art to slip back into mere illustration. The drawings could then be easily incorporated into magazine ads for time-share resorts or packaging for hot dogs.

This problem is especially tricky since my art tends to be figurative with some sort of narrative element - both ideal for advertising purposes.

Through trial and error I've learned to block all preconceived ideas from entering my mind. The Buddhists do this to achieve clarity of being. I do it to banish the commercial artist.

Today I kept them out of the studio long enough to make two drawings.