Color

Darin's on a cruise with his family which means no painting for me. But here's a quick little update.

So remember that I have four rows of color systematically mixed. One's called the gray row, one is kind of orang-y tan, one is the flesh row which is a combination of the first two rows, and the last one is the blood row. Did you know that your skin looks gray in recession and where it's close to bone? Fatty, fleshy parts of your body are redder, so there you add color from your blood row. I still need to portray that in my painting. 

On a side note, remember my food blog? Me neither. Ben was craving cookies, and Averill (my roommate) came up with the brilliant idea of making cookies out of cake mix, and they were INCREDIBLE. Try ittttt:

Yes! I did bake that cookie :)

Add 2 eggs and 1/2 cup of vegetable oil to Betty Crocker's Triple Chocolate Fudge cake mix. Mix well. Roll into balls, they should be the size of a mounded tablespoon. Bake at 350F for 8.5-9 minutes. They'll be really gooey at first but they'll cool to perfection.

Love // Christelle

Purist or Snob?

I recently had a passionate conversation with a dear friend about whether he's a music purist or music snob. He loves classical music and will listen to some contemporary music, but hates most of it--including my music, which may be why I'd rather call him a music snob than music purist. I like my music, I'm a huge John Mayer fan, I'm really into alt-J and Gregory Alan Isakov right now, and I like country music, but I really like classical music too. Here's the thing-- classical music is beautiful, systematic, and respected because you don't just throw something like that together. You take years to develop skills to truly create something beautiful.

Outside the Louvre

I don't know enough about art to be an art snob, and I don't want to discount modern art because I don't understand it. But let's be honest, sometimes it's just weird. I appreciate classical academic art because I understand it, and because it's beautiful. Art captures truth, and artists are historians. I don't like the idea that modern artists are typefying our generation with installation of arbitrary objects. My roommate, who appreciates art as much as the next person, explained that what touches her the most when she goes to galleries are pieces that illustrate life-- she'd rather see a portrait or a landscape than a sculpture of stacked chairs.

This last January I asked my hairdresser, an art history major, why people like modern art. She explained that with the invention of photography, there's no longer a need for career portrait painters because a person's features can instantaneously be captured on film. So art itself has deviated towards a different kind of philosophy, "can something exist for the sake of existing?" must everything have a meaning? 

What do you think? What is the value of modern art? What am I not seeing?

Love // Christelle

Starving Artist

My price theory students are learning about "smoothing consumption" in two states of the world. Unless you save when you are in a good state, you'll starve in the bad state. Those that rely on painting as their sole income are subject to this model. They can either sell a painting and eat, or fail to sell and starve if they have not saved.

You never want to HAVE to paint for financial security. Darin

Darin (left) helping Kelly (right) with his painting :)

works at BeachBody (makers of P90x) so he never has to worry about feeding his family. It's almost impossible to paint when you're stressed about the painting, when you feel like to you have to produce. During those times, your work suffers because your mind is no longer on the details of the painting, and it becomes impossible to get lost in the work.

I felt a little bit of that this weekend. I was anxious about school, but mostly I was anxious to get the color done, which in retrospect is so silly, because there's no point in rushing. I had made so much headway on the verdaccio so quickly and had such good intuition that I was expecting that same result with color. Darin reassured me that the intuition would come, you'll learn to see what you need to see. Sometimes it's hard to see what's right in front of us:

Some people devote all their time to their art, and that's incredible, and many of them are consistently successful. When you have a family, you have to have derive financial security in some way, which is what Darin is doing. That being said he wishes he had more time to paint.

Love // Christelle

Waffles

I mixed my flesh palette today, it took me nearly 3 hours. I should have gotten a picture, I took this instead:

COLOR COLOR COLOR COLOR! I wish I had more progress to show you, but since I only go in once a week, so progress is slowww, it's the worst. Really spring term could come a little faster, thanks. 

All those little paint dots are systematically mixed, and I can actually match the value of the color with the value of the gray-green verdaccio of my painting. I don't know you if you can tell but there are columns of value on the palette that correspond to the values of my painting as well as the values of the paint. I see value everywhere now, I swear I'm going crazy. Darin said it would happen: you look at someone's face and you can see a fifth value or a seventh value... and all you want to do is paint. their. face.

I want to tell you guys about something cool that happened this week, irrelevant to art. First the uncool: I didn't get the internship (after second round interviews) I wanted at Goldman Sachs. I was beginning to feel like a real loser (I'd gotten rejected by another firm two weeks before). I was feeling a little overwhelmed/inadequate and gave myself permission to cry a little in the dark on my way home from school. This is normally a very private time-- I'll either have the Les Mis audiobook or music pumping in my headphones, and I'll just stroll, uninterrupted. Well of course, halfway home, I run into Preston and Brandon, two very good friends. I clean myself up but they could tell I was pretty upset. So here begins the cool: Brandon asks me, "Do you want waffles?" Hahah. I shrug off his offer, but he persists, insisting that he has a plate of ready-made waffles leftover from a ward activity. We begin chatting, and at some point I realize the conversation would be better over waffles, so I accept his offer. Man did my night take a complete 180. We get back to their apartment and before I put my backpack down, waffles are heated, orange juice is poured, and frozen fruit is thawed. And whipped cream is set out. Lots of whipped cream. We just sat and chatted. Roommates came in and out, Preston and I tap danced, and I had a smile on my face you could not wipe off if you tried. World class friends.

Brandon (left) and Preston (right) celebrating my 21st birthday

I'm telling you this story because outside of my art world, I'm still trying to figure it all out. I'm doing the best that I can: I'm throwing myself into everything I find remotely interesting, including TAing and RAing to feel out academia-- just so maybe I can figure out... life. (How does social innovation sound to you? Yeah, it sounds pretty sweet to me too.) In the meantime I have amazing friends and an AMAZING dad who let me know that everything's going to be OK. Have you had moments like this?

Love // Christelle

I'd Sleep Under a Vermeer

My roommate and I are writing our papers, it's 1 AM, and we're jamming to Justin Timberlake. I'm in love with that girlll...  I didn't get a ton done at painting on Saturday, though I learned a lot through observation. I watched and listened as Darin helped Kelly pull the hood of his figure into recession, and as he helped Rosemary identify the sternocleidomastoid (anatomy anyone?) in her Mary. I did begin glazing color into the background, and I'll start on flesh next weekend, which means COLOR. You better believe it's going to be amazing.

I've been thinking about the kind of paintings I want to do after I've painted enough reproductions of master's works. What's my theme going to be?

Stories of Joy.

My train of thought: Friday night I attended John Lithgow's "Stories of the Heart" and it was incredible to say the least. For those of you who don't know him, he's a Tony, Emmy, and Golden Globe winner, whom you may recognize best as either the Reverend from Footloose, or Lord Farquaad from Shrek. I was touched by both the stories he shared, and his command of his craft. What I mean is I felt like he could read us, gauge our reactions and manipulate his act for maximum effect. He understands human nature, the person within the person, which allows him to access emotions that are rarely evoked. So that though his character was laughing, we knew we couldn't, and we recognized the darkness behind the facade of light. As I walked home I realized that an artist has the capacity to observe and recognize things that are not apparent at first glance. It is not enough to look, you have to understand how something came to be to capture it properly.

Anyhow, for you runners out there you'll understand when I say I do my best thinking on long runs. While on my run Saturday morning, I contemplated the kind of art that has touched me the most. I decided that the pieces that touch me the most are works that illustrate a raw and universal part of humanity. Usually a part of humanity I can relate to. So often, however, these depictions are dark, somber. Which I figured I could try and capture but I wondered why, instead, wouldn't I try to capture joy? Why wouldn't I try and capture, in my model, a vision of joy as they relate a sweet memory.

I mentioned this idea during art, and Jen mentioned that we paint how we feel, which Darin affirmed. Your emotions will show through your painting and in the story you try to tell. But, he said, it makes sense that you would want to portray joy, because you emanate joy-- which I was so grateful to hear.

If I can garner command of my craft the same way John Lithgow has command of his, I want my paintings to tell a story. It can be a simple story, but that story must be there.

Love // Christelle

P.S. The title is a quote by John Lithgow.