I trust this isn't the basis for some other kind of picture. It deserves to exist as is. The artfully duplicated lines (a hundred miles away from my sketches where it's clear I'm trying - hit or miss - to find the line that's correct) impart a wriggling action to the tulips. But do tulips wriggle? Perhaps in death they do. But even if they don't it doesn't matter. Wriggling tulips - the drawing and the title - are both juxtapositions which touch on art. They require no explanation or justification. Nor do I need to know whether this was your intention even though I may have my own private view on this.
I'm not sure why I should find this an encouragement to my own renewed attempts at sketching. Certainly, you're working in an entirely different sphere and I should be discouraged by the gap between our efforts. But the quick recording of the quotidian in all its mess and beauty -- you show me how worthwhile that is, even if only (in my case) in the observation rather than in the results. Thanks for the inspiration!
Roderick, no, it's just a drawing for its own sake. And the tulip leaves were definitely wriggly as they shriveled! I'm glad if the drawing led you to think about wriggliness and the purpose of this simple piece of art...
Frances, there's no better result from my own art efforts than to know they encourage others -- thanks for telling me. Seeing and honoring the quotidian is something I need to remember myself, and this little scene reminded me. A still life doesn't have to be glorious, does it? And in the abstract, there are lines and curves and shapes, positive and negative spaces to see and explore all around us, all the time. I like recording these mundane aspects of daily life for themselves, too -- and since drawing is a kind of contemplation for me,
it's good for me to just pick up the pen sometimes and draw rather than thinking too much about it or doing a lot of preparation.
I wish you the best of luck with your own sketching, and don't be hard on yourself! The doing is always more important than the result.
In the Iliad, she is described as the loveliest of the daughters of Priam (King of Troy), and gifted with prophecy. The god Apollo loved her, but she spurned him. As a punishment, he decreed that no one would ever believe her. So when she told her fellow Trojans that the Greeks were hiding inside the wooden horse...well, you know what happened.
I trust this isn't the basis for some other kind of picture. It deserves to exist as is. The artfully duplicated lines (a hundred miles away from my sketches where it's clear I'm trying - hit or miss - to find the line that's correct) impart a wriggling action to the tulips. But do tulips wriggle? Perhaps in death they do. But even if they don't it doesn't matter. Wriggling tulips - the drawing and the title - are both juxtapositions which touch on art. They require no explanation or justification. Nor do I need to know whether this was your intention even though I may have my own private view on this.
Posted by: Roderick Robinson | March 09, 2014 at 01:51 PM
I'm not sure why I should find this an encouragement to my own renewed attempts at sketching. Certainly, you're working in an entirely different sphere and I should be discouraged by the gap between our efforts. But the quick recording of the quotidian in all its mess and beauty -- you show me how worthwhile that is, even if only (in my case) in the observation rather than in the results. Thanks for the inspiration!
Posted by: Frances/Materfamilias | March 09, 2014 at 02:36 PM
Roderick, no, it's just a drawing for its own sake. And the tulip leaves were definitely wriggly as they shriveled! I'm glad if the drawing led you to think about wriggliness and the purpose of this simple piece of art...
Frances, there's no better result from my own art efforts than to know they encourage others -- thanks for telling me. Seeing and honoring the quotidian is something I need to remember myself, and this little scene reminded me. A still life doesn't have to be glorious, does it? And in the abstract, there are lines and curves and shapes, positive and negative spaces to see and explore all around us, all the time. I like recording these mundane aspects of daily life for themselves, too -- and since drawing is a kind of contemplation for me,
it's good for me to just pick up the pen sometimes and draw rather than thinking too much about it or doing a lot of preparation.
I wish you the best of luck with your own sketching, and don't be hard on yourself! The doing is always more important than the result.
Posted by: Beth | March 10, 2014 at 09:11 AM
You have captured the curling droop of the tulips and the permanently structured cartons; I like the contrast, too.
Posted by: Duchesse | March 11, 2014 at 05:32 PM