En Plein Air and Zeus's Thigh

From the Rockies to Ancient Greece, Let's Draw!

When we first came to the Rockies (from Sydney, Australia), everything was alien to us. My mother called the mountains ‘brutal’ as they were nothing like the more gentle Alps back in Bavaria. She was mildly offended that there weren’t huts and inns dotted around and that the call of ravens and chattering of squirrels had replaced the low tonkle of cowbells.

On our very first day in Banff (in June, 1969), we all hiked up to the top of Sleeping Buffalo (then known as Tunnel Mountain) and gazed down at our new home, the Bow River winding its way along the valley floor, the hamlet of Banff below us.

That first summer we also had our first encounter with a grizzly sow and her cubs when we were awakened early one morning by the clanking of tin garbage can lids being flung aside as the trio rooted around in search of breakfast behind our cabin. Animal-proof garbage containers had yet to be invented and bears were a frequent sight in town.

Dad loved the rough edges of the Rockies - the fractured rock faces, the stark and powerful raw beauty of this place appealed to him and he never tired of the mountains as subject matter.

He took his drawing and painting students from the Banff School of Fine Arts out on expeditions to draw en plein air. I found a photo of him with a student in the Paul D. Fleck Library and Archives at the Banff Centre and used the Da Vinci Eye app (see yesterday’s post for details) to do a quick sketch of the basic figures and then, later this afternoon at sketch club, added a bit of watercolour (colours made up, of course, as I have no idea what anyone’s shirt colours might have been). [Note: Looking at the photo and sketch now I see I somehow forgot to draw Dad’s second leg!]

The woman on the stump holds her drawing board as Dad shows her something with a pencil. I can just imagine him saying, “If you look closely, see how the branches join the trunk like this?” and then sketching an example at the edge of the page.

With a little time left at the end of sketch club, I decided to start another drawing, this one freehand. Referring to a photo taken last January about a month before Dad passed away, I sketched and noticed that I was moving more slowly and paying closer attention to putting things in more or less the right place than I often do. Impatience is no virtue when it comes to drawing.

While I had been a bit worried that using apps like Da Vinci Eye is cheating, in fact, the process of slowing down and really looking at what I’m drawing via the app seems to be having a positive impact on drawing freehand. As we discussed today in our sketching group, artists have always used tools and techniques to improve their accuracy - grids and light boxes, projections and transfer papers come to mind. When I thought a bit more about it, it occurred to me that if ten different people used the Da Vinci Eye app and started with the same source image, you’d get ten different results. So, I’m going to stop fretting and use the tools the modern age provides :)

For interest, here are the two reference photos:

And, on that note, I’m calling it a day. I’ll continue to work on the winter drawing (it was bitterly cold that day - we were doing a lap around the block on the way home from having a coffee and Dad was using his brand spanking new electric wheelchair - a gift from the family at Christmas).

And, yes, I do need to get back to putting these drawings into some sort of comic-esque context. I’m thinking about it - a lot - but life did get a bit hectic over the past ten days or so.

Oh, speaking of hectic. Remember I mentioned I was applying for grad school? I haven’t quite finished my application but I have been busy doing some pre-reading for a sample class the program is offering for applicants wanting to get a feel for how the discussions go. I’m reading Bacchae by Euripides. I don’t have anything profound to say (yet - give me time and maybe I’ll think of something) except - oh, so many potential subjects for pieces of art.

I am fascinated by the idea that Dionysus, son of Zeus was delivered into the world when Zeus zapped the baby’s mother with a lightning bolt. This killed Mom (obviously) but then Zeus sliced open his own thigh and slid the infant in there to finish incubating “shut in with golden clasps.” Eventually, Zeus rebirthed the baby who took on human form and proceeded to cause a lot of trouble. I haven’t finished the play yet so I can’t enlighten you on the full extent of the turmoil suffered by the mere mortals impacted by said offspring, but oh - can you imagine the drawing potential?