these are the many faces of sherry

About a month ago I arrived at sculpture studio to find our new model, Sherry.  I began forming my armature to her pose but during that process one of the legs fell off.  Of the armature, not Sherry.  I couldn't fix it, and since I like the idea of using the same armature in all the sculptures of my current process, I balled the metal figure up and began forming Sherry's portrait around it

Now, Sherry's story.

When I first began I thought she was angry at me for looking at her, or she didn't want me there, or hated men . . . something like that.  I became extremely self-conscious and anxious.  But when she came out of her pose, she was polite and cheerful.  A sign of a good model!  She captured a state of mind as she went into the pose, becoming a new person experiencing something profound.  Capturing this emotional side was quite intriguing.  One minute she was angry, the next sad, regretful, then consumed, resigned, peaceful.  Repeat.  This slippery slope of change found its way into the sculpture without me realizing it. You can imagine that I look forward to creating the painting from one of these images, all offering a different level of emotion really.

Thank you Sherry for an amazing energy.  My creation is for you.

this is giving horror head

When I was a little boy and my parents watched the movie Halloween and disallowed me to watch it but kept the sound up high so that the disturbing music and screams haunted me in my room, I began a fascination with horror movies that lasted through high school.  I still like a good scare every now and then, and love dark movies and noir cinematography (off the top of my head movies from last year I'm thinking of Martha Marcy May Marlene and Drive).  But when I had to dismantle my current sculpture, a portrait of a lovely model named Sherry, I had no intention of creating this odd story.  But I stumbled on some creepy lighting, and the rest, as they say is herstory.  I will tell Sherry's story in my next posting, but for now, in honor of Sharon Needles, and Halloween junkies everywhere, I present this story of the macabre.  Goodbye, Mr. Hitchcock, where ever you are.  If you can guess that reference without Google, I'll buy you dinner.

giving head

Today is my Mom's birthday.  In honor of her birthday, I'm presenting Sherry (not to be confused with Cherry).  This is day four of working on her portrait.  My armature broke so I decided to try something new.  I decided to fold it up and build the head around it.  So it's still a part of the journey.  My sculpture mentor Barney applauded the effort and says I'm almost finished.  He looked quite surprised.  Sherry didn't.  Happy Birthday, Mama!  Thanks for having me!

    



cherry's last dance

This one was a hard one to deconstruct . . . I was very sad.  I really enjoyed my connection with Cherry.  I just saw her in the hall the other day, and after I said hello she covered her mouth and giggled.  She gets an extra large layout.  Great working with you, Cherry.

this is cherry

Meet Cherry: she's the young adult version of a living baby doll, a cross between a Cabbage Patch Kid and Daria.  She's adorable, but you know she has some dark secrets.  We have two more days together, Cherry and I, and then she'll be deconstructed into something different, a reflection of myself.  That's what goes down between the models and me.  They offer me a piece of myself that I have either forgotten about, neglected, or never fully realized.  While she's nude, I too am exposed, as I create a version of herself in front of her.  When I take the sculptures apart, and then put them back together again in my paintings, I'm exploring that minute relationship that existed over 30 days: a connection that evenutally breaks down but never completely.  Our correlation carries on in the art, which, while not permanent, does its best to capture that moment.  This is my process for now.

this is phase two

February was about jumping in and getting my feet messy. Now I'm ready to get my clothes paint splattered and charcoal covered, and from this mess, to see what arises from within. This month is about trying to find my voice. I'm taking a figurative drawing class entitled "Catalytic Drawing: Finding Your Own Voice" and an abstract painting class taught by Frank O'Cain, who "gives his students a point of departure that enables them to push their work toward a personal, abstract expression." I have high expectations based on the titles and descriptions of these courses. This photograph from my sculpture deconstruction photo shoot will act as my totem.

this is the last spin (and the daughter of Michael Myers)

The next to last day, my teacher Barney Hodes told me that the last director of the program would have loved me like a son. She was a miser and knew nothing about sculpture so my modicum use of clay would have pleased her. He said that I need to work bigger and to pile more clay on so that I can actually sculpt instead of build from bare bones. He did say that I captured some nice angles and shapes, and overall, it was a good start, but next time he wants me to work bigger.

This next to last day left me almost in tears for some reason. I felt like every person, including the model, whose name I have learned is Pigeon, was against me . . . not from anything said, but from looks and body language. Was that a smirk? I felt defeated and wanted to cry. What a dark night to enter after class ended.

Then the next day, the last day, arrives, and I enter with an open heart and a fresh attitude and everything is brighter. Sure, the face looks like the mask of Michael Myers, but I was proud of the effort invested in the piece. Pigeon complimented it. Two of my classmates came up to me and told me that I had done a nice job. And then it was over.

I took some photographs. And then tore her down. The interesting photo shoot of the tearing down I'll save for later. Next week, new model. It's a man. And maybe I'll just focus on his butt.







this is my version of Pigeon looking crestfallen because she is not being cast (the casting room is in the background). The decontruction photoshoot is quite interesting and looking back on it, I should have cast one of those. Will post those photos soon.

this is the beginning of the end

I only have three more days working with the model on the figurative sculpture. A week from Monday a new model will arrive who will enchant us with another pose.

My sculpture process during this time has mostly been about shapes and balance. I've changed the legs and arms three times. They were either too big or too small. The supporting arm had to be moved around about twenty times. And I still haven't gotten around to truly working on the details, like how am I going to form her va-jay-jay?

With each turn of the model you see something that wasn't there before. The shape under the shoulder, formed by the rib cage and the arm, or the isosceles triangle that the supporting arm and back create aren't exactly right. You have to pile on clay or scrap it off, amending the figure step by step. Our teacher Barney said that once you stop finding mistakes to fix, you know you're finished.

Some mistakes will remain present. For instance, in relation to my armature, I made my scale too small, so that out of her arms and legs pop pieces of metal as if she were a cyborg or involved in a strange sacrificial accident. Forgive me, I will not be casting this sculpture. But, how about those results of me sculpting her face? Let's hope I can fix the image that comes to my mind currently: the homeless guy that pops out from behind the Winkie's dumpster in the movie Mulholland Drive.