***
I knew that I wanted green drapes. I think that was the first element that came to me. The only certain one. There were several related ideas - incorporating a fairly shadowy interior, with a good amount of color, especially reflected color - that shuffled around in my head for quite some time. But all of the half-shaped concepts featured more or less quantities of green drapery at a window or door, letting in a limited amount of light upon the centrally placed, full-length figure.
On a nice sunny day early last year, I put on the old Gap dress shirt that I'd modified to serve as a low-cut dress bodice, and G took pictures of me as I posed in the thin line of light that was let in through the nearly closed pocket doors that divide the two main rooms of our apartment. I was the first particular of the composition.
The other particulars were assembled in differing ways. As I hadn't yet made a big, puffy red satin skirt that I could pose in - I have one now - I
worked from a photograph of a 19th century gown that's in the
collection of Metropolitan Museum's Costume Institute, inventing the ribbon trim and sash. I adapted the coiffure from a fashion drawing of the time; both gown and hairstyle would be appropriate for the mid to
late 1780s. Most often, at this time, bodices would be trimmed with
lace or some sort of a ruffle at the neckline, and/or filled in with an often quite
puffed out, gauzy fichu. But I decided to go with a plain neckline - certainly
not incorrect - which also has the benefit of showing a bit of chest hair; I'd
never want to entirely hide the fact that there's a man in that dress.
I really love the word perruche and, after deciding on the inclusion of a bird to be juxtaposed with a stylishly improbable hairstyle, wanted to use it for the title. I quickly found that I had mistakenly thought it was the French word for parrot, when it is actually the word for parakeet or budgie. Turns out the French word for parrot is perroquet. Which is terribly confusing. So I did a bit of research and found that the parakeet group is much broader than just the little domesticated, stripey birds I've always seen in cages. (Actually, it seems that parakeets as well as cockatoos, cockatiels, etc., are all just different forms of parrot.) And I was happy to discover that there were plenty of varieties that were called parakeets yet looked sufficiently parrot-like to serve my specifications of size and color. I chose a Red-masked Parakeet, or Conure à tête rouge. I found a photograph that met my compositional needs, though I did have to reverse the lighting. I love the particular angle of his turning head.
As I said, I had different ideas about what the room might look like. But then I saw a photograph of a sequence of rooms at Versailles that I thought would be perfect. The petit appartement de la reine is a beautiful and celebrated suite of small rooms hidden behind the queen's state rooms, facing onto an interior courtyard. Facing that same enclosed courtyard and turning the corner from the petit appartement, is a little known series of four private rooms. They had rarely if ever been more than a service passage - behind unexpected, awkwardly placed doors there are cramped little staircases leading to the floors above and below - but it was also the only private way to get from the queen's rooms to that of the king's; a door hidden in the wall next to the queen's bed in her state chambre lets into this passage. (Famously, Marie Antoinette fled by way of these rooms, escaping the rampaging mob that October night in 1789.)
On a nice sunny day early last year, I put on the old Gap dress shirt that I'd modified to serve as a low-cut dress bodice, and G took pictures of me as I posed in the thin line of light that was let in through the nearly closed pocket doors that divide the two main rooms of our apartment. I was the first particular of the composition.
I really love the word perruche and, after deciding on the inclusion of a bird to be juxtaposed with a stylishly improbable hairstyle, wanted to use it for the title. I quickly found that I had mistakenly thought it was the French word for parrot, when it is actually the word for parakeet or budgie. Turns out the French word for parrot is perroquet. Which is terribly confusing. So I did a bit of research and found that the parakeet group is much broader than just the little domesticated, stripey birds I've always seen in cages. (Actually, it seems that parakeets as well as cockatoos, cockatiels, etc., are all just different forms of parrot.) And I was happy to discover that there were plenty of varieties that were called parakeets yet looked sufficiently parrot-like to serve my specifications of size and color. I chose a Red-masked Parakeet, or Conure à tête rouge. I found a photograph that met my compositional needs, though I did have to reverse the lighting. I love the particular angle of his turning head.
As I said, I had different ideas about what the room might look like. But then I saw a photograph of a sequence of rooms at Versailles that I thought would be perfect. The petit appartement de la reine is a beautiful and celebrated suite of small rooms hidden behind the queen's state rooms, facing onto an interior courtyard. Facing that same enclosed courtyard and turning the corner from the petit appartement, is a little known series of four private rooms. They had rarely if ever been more than a service passage - behind unexpected, awkwardly placed doors there are cramped little staircases leading to the floors above and below - but it was also the only private way to get from the queen's rooms to that of the king's; a door hidden in the wall next to the queen's bed in her state chambre lets into this passage. (Famously, Marie Antoinette fled by way of these rooms, escaping the rampaging mob that October night in 1789.)
I wanted something particular for the round cartouche over the door,
most likely some mythologically themed tableau. I was beginning to scrape around
in my brain, thinking I'd have to design something from scratch. Which, honestly, I wasn't looking forward to. But
somehow I managed to remember a cameo brooch that had belonged to my
mother's paternal grandmother. It was always in my mother's jewelry box
when I was a child, though I never remember her wearing it. She gave
it to G as a wedding present. I adapted the design, and I'm happy to
have included something of my own family's history in this piece.
I couldn't figure out what painting should go in the picture frame I intended for the wall at the left of the composition. I thought I might come up with some frothy romp - something very Fragonard-ish - or another mythological tableau. But then, out of nowhere, I had the idea that I could use one of my own paintings. Le Passage was a previous exercise in that Dutch/French blending I spoke of, though an exterior rather than interior; it's inspired by a painting by de Hooch. I really enjoyed making a miniature version of my own work, and it was especially fun to imagine the painting in shadow, with an extreme foreshortening.
Le Passage - acrylic on panel - 24x18 - 2009 |
One of the things I really like - and kept - about the actual rooms is
the peculiar variations in the wooden floor, but then I had to work pretty
hard to get the sections of parquet de Versailles laid out properly;
Photoshop wasn't nearly the help I'd hoped for. Having a carpet to
hide some of it was a blessing. I adapted the design of a very stylish
neo-classical rug that would have been perfect for that fictional
re-decoration of the 1780s. I simplified it, changed most of the colors
and added different elements. It was fun to design it to coordinate
with the "new" paneling. While not overly match-y, both incorporate clusters of leaves, ribbons, scrolled vegetation, etc.
Surprisingly difficult to find an image of a cat sitting in this position. As it was, I had to change the lighting and reposition the tail. I love having animals in my work, but the cat was added mainly as a compositional device; I needed something in that corner. Mainly for balance. Only after the fact did I wake up to the whole cat/bird dynamic. That rather clever subtext was some sort of divine intervention, I guess - but I suppose I should just say that I'd planned it all along....
Wow, even I didn't know you hadn't made the cat/bird connection until after the fact.
ReplyDeleteThank you for this. What lovely and fascinating information - and of course what lovely detail pieces.
Le Wow!
ReplyDeleteYou put a lot more thought into your art than I do...or would if I could get past the stick figure stage of drawing.
ReplyDeleteYour work baffles me...its like you are enhancing and perfecting your personal visual language with each project.
Thanks for sharing the process behind the brilliance.
Wow, thank you Brian. I love the way you put that. (And I said wow, too, just like G and Rick.... )
DeleteYou have great talent and should bring your work to my town of Santa Fe, NM....
ReplyDeletexo
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