Showing posts with label perspective. Show all posts
Showing posts with label perspective. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

A Victim Of The French Revolution

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The thing about architecture of this period is that every square inch of the edifice was attended to with the same minute devotion. This drawing approaches the subject with the same attitude. In a work of this sort you will not find anything artistically unfinished or scribbled over as in the vignettes of the 19th Century. From the grass among the loose rubble to the single overhanging stone everything is look at with the same attention. Even so, if you look at details carefully you will be able to detect my left-handedness in the direction of the strokes of the shading. A two point perspective rendering, done with hb graphite pencil, on hot press Arches watercolor paper. Image size 10.5" x 7.75" Signed and dated across the bottom, Richard Britell, April 2012, an original drawing.

Some information about Jumieges Abbey ruins:  The abbey was founded in 654 by Saint Philibert, who had been the companion of Saints Ouen and Wandrille at the Merovingian court. Philibert became first abbot but was later on, through the jealousy of certain enemies, obliged to leave Jumièges, and afterwards founded another monastery at Noirmoutier, where he died in about 685. Under the second abbot, Saint Achard, Jumièges prospered and soon numbered nearly a thousand monks.
In the ninth century it was pillaged and burnt to the ground by the Vikings, but was rebuilt on a grander scale by William Longespee, Duke of Normandy (d. 942). A new church was consecrated in 1067 in the presence of William the Conqueror.
Enjoying the patronage of the dukes of Normandy, the abbey became a great centre of religion and learning, its schools producing, amongst many other scholars, the national historian, William of Jumièges. It reached the zenith of its fame about the eleventh century, and was regarded as a model for all the monasteries of the province. It was renowned especially for its charity to the poor, being popularly called "Jumièges l'Aumônier".
The church was enlarged in 1256, and again restored in 1573. The abbots of Jumièges took part in all the great affairs of the church and state. One of them, Robert Champart, became Archbishop of Canterbury in 1051, after being Bishop of London. Many others became bishops in France, and some were also raised to the dignity of cardinal.
The fortunes of the abbey suffered somewhat through the English invasion of the fifteenth century, but it recovered and maintained its prosperity and high position until the whole province was devastated by the Huguenots and the Wars of Religion. In 1649, during the abbacy of Francis III, Jumièges was taken over by the Maurist Congregation, under which rule some of its former grandeur was resuscitated.
The French Revolution, however, ended its existence as a monastery, leaving only impressive ruins.



Thursday, February 7, 2008

Cathedral Interior


This is the second in a series of architectural drawings. It is an extremely complicated drawing in all respects and there are a great many approaches I could take to discussing it. I could talk about its tonal range, and aspects of light and shading. I could talk about the relationship of expressionism to classicism, and where this drawing does or doesn’t fit in. I could talk about Freudian, or sexual symbolism in the drawing, this wouldn’t be hard considering all of the groin vaults right in the middle of the picture. But all those topics are going to have to wait until I have finished with the topic of perspective.

This drawing presents one of the most difficult perspective problems an artist must deal with, the problem of drawing big circles, or ellipses in succession. Not only are there numerous big arches but there are sets of them slowly decreasing in size and blocking each other out.

In classical perspective theory there is a procedure for drawing circles and ellipses. First you draw the square that the circle fits into. You draw this square in perspective and this automatically gives you four points of the ellipse, the points where the circle is tangent to the square. Then you draw a series of about twenty crossing and intersecting lines through the square in perspective, too complicated to explain here, and this will give you a number of additional points on the ellipse. With all these points as a guide you draw the ellipse. This never works, however, because all the thousands of guide lines make your drawing look like a dish of sauerkraut rather than a drawing.

I have utilized the above method many times but even with all those points as a guide one always ends up relying on one’s eye and the natural tendency of the wrist and hand to draw an ellipse naturally. Artists always end up drawing these troublesome shapes freehand, you simply rest your wrist in the proper relationship to the curve being drawn and then rotate your hand back and forth. If your line comes out a little off, you let the shadows gobble up the mistakes.

You may want to ask me, “That's fine, with that method a left handed person can draw the right side of an ellipse, but what about the other side of the shape where the fingers have to contract?” This is an extremely good and important question and I’m glad you asked it. From the time of the cave paintings until the Renaissance perspective was unknown, its discovery solved many problems artists face. The problem of how to draw the opposite, or inner side of an ellipse was discovered in the late eighteenth century, and consists of turning the paper upside down.

Friday, January 25, 2008

Woman at the Beach, Wind in her Hair


This drawing was going to be a continuation of my discussion, started with my last two drawings, of the relationship of the texture of materials to the details in drawing. But now that entire discussion has to be put on hold because this drawing brings us accidentally to the beach, and, since we are at the beach, I want to take the opportunity to discuss some issues of perspective which can only be observed, and understood at the beach.

Every one has heard of a horizon line and a vanishing point and I am sure that most of us remember drawing in high school some odd looking buildings with the assistance of a horizon line. So we go through life imagining that above, beyond, or behind everything we see is a horizon line and we could see it if there weren't so many things blocking our view. But at the beach we can see this horizon line, now let’s consider where it is. I have drawn a standing figure and I put the horizon line level with her knees, Why did i put it there?

To understand the answer to this question you are going to have to go to the beach. Once you get there, spread out a blanket and lay down facing the water and the horizon line. Laying flat on the sand with your head six inches from the sand hold up your finger pointing level with the horizon, and observe that the horizon is level with your eyes when you are laying down. Now sit on the blanket with your head about thirty inches from the ground, and notice that the horizon line has come up to directly even with your eyes, the horizon line is now thirty inches from the ground also. Finally stand up and observe as you do, that the horizon line stands up also, persistently following the level of you eyes. Now that you are standing, jump up and down a few times, and notice that the horizon line will jump up and down with you. That horizon line watches you like a hawk, and your slightest movement up and down is echoed by a similar movement at the horizon.

Now lets return to my drawing, it is a view, seen by a person who is sitting on the beach, eye level with the woman's knees and looking up at her. If I had taken a photograph of her, the horizon line would be in the same place, but if I stood up with my camera and I was a little taller than her, the horizon line would pass over her head slightly. The horizon line is always the eye level line of the viewer.

When you get home from the beach it will be late, the moon will be out, look at it there up in the sky, notice how it glows with that strange omnipotent silver light. But now just jump up and down a few times there in the driveway and notice that the moon jumps up and down also. Why is this? How can it have time to pay so much attention to us, to know our every movement?