DRAWING LIFE by fred hatt

2009/04/26

A Useless Tree

A Useless Tree, 2009, by Fred Hatt

A Useless Tree, 2009, by Fred Hatt

“Tzu-ch’i of Nan-po was wandering around the Hill of Shang when he saw a huge tree there, different from all the rest.  A thousand teams of horses could have taken shelter under it and its shade would have covered them all.  Tzu-ch’i said, “What tree is this?  It must certainly have some extraordinary usefulness!”  But, looking up, he saw that the smaller limbs were gnarled and twisted, unfit for beams or rafters, and looking down, he saw that the trunk was pitted and rotten and could not be used for coffins.  He licked one of the leaves and it blistered his mouth and made it sore.  He sniffed the odor and it was enough to make a man drunk for three days.  “It turns out to be a completely unusable tree,” said Tzu-ch’i, “and so it has been able to grow this big.  Aha!  – it is this unusableness that the Holy Man makes use of!” – from Chuang Tzu, Basic Writings, translated by Burton Watson, 1964, Columbia University Press.

The world is always looking for useful things and people.  But those that are most useful get used up quickly, exploited, trampled and destroyed.  They are valued not for themselves, but only for their usefulness.  To be useless, or complicated, or different from the norm, is a powerful way to protect one’s essence so that it may be allowed to develop naturally, to thrive in its own way.  I strive to be as useless as possible.  If it seems that my work may be becoming useful to someone in some way, that is the sign to me to change directions, to give it a twist!

Many people are familiar with Lao Tzu and the Tao Te Ching, perhaps the most poetic of all the ancient philosophical texts.  Chuang Tzu, or Zhuangzi, the second famous Taoist philosopher, living in the fourth century BCE, used jokes, parables and tall tales to liberate the mind from the slavery of conventional attitudes and values.

Here’s a link to another version of the story, from Thomas Merton’s great collection of Chuang Tzu’s pithiest bits.

My illustration above is an ink-brush sketch on paper, 11″ x 14″ or 28 cm x 36 cm.  It was made during a break from observational drawing at “Cross Pollination“, a monthly open session for artists, dancers and musicians to practice and inspire and be inspired by each other, at Green Space Studio in Queens.

2009/04/21

Visual Cacophony

Filed under: Photography: Signs and Displays — Tags: , , , — fred @ 00:51
Graffiti Globe, 2008, by Fred Hatt

Graffiti Globe, 2008, photo by Fred Hatt

New York City is like the rainforest, dense with competing and coexisting lifeforms.  When I moved here in the 1980’s, the most striking aspect of the city was the level of anarchy and disorder that prevailed, both in the people and in the physical environment.  It was frightening but also exciting to me.  It said anything goes here, anything is possible.

Since that time, the city has been subjected to a concerted effort to bring it in line and shine it up for the benefit of the tourists and the free-spending wealthy.  But there’s still quite a bit of disorder remaining.  Every city is marked by decay and destructive forces, but the high density cities also show a sort of wild snarl that comes of so many, pressed so tight, trying to make their marks, trying to self-express or sell in an overcrowded market.

Stickers, 2007, photo by Fred Hatt

Stickers, 2007, photo by Fred Hatt

These images dazzle the visual cortex with their mad clutter.  A similar visual energy can be seen in another standard New York sight, the small overstuffed store.

Filaments, 2005, photo by Fred Hatt

Filaments, 2005, photo by Fred Hatt

People make ramshackle barricades, with no concern for aesthetics.  Indeed, perhaps the mess says “Keep away.”

Fence Ribbons, 2004, photo by Fred Hatt

Fence Ribbons, 2004, photo by Fred Hatt

Caution, 2008, photo by Fred Hatt

Caution, 2008, photo by Fred Hatt

Even engineered structures can take on this forbidding rat’s nest quality.  Here’s an underpass beneath elevated subway tracks in Queens.  The combination of the mustard yellow signal light housings with the pale pink ironwork is not a color scheme anyone is likely to have chosen consciously.

Underbridge, 2009, photo by Fred Hatt

Underbridge, 2009, photo by Fred Hatt

Here’s a jumbled pile of trash.

Trash, 2004, photo by Fred Hatt

Trash, 2004, photo by Fred Hatt

And here’s a bike rack where, I think, the wheels have been removed from the bikes to facilitate locking everything up for safekeeping, resulting in a more structured but still overly busy visual mess.

Bike Rack, 2002, photo by Fred Hatt

Bike Rack, 2002, photo by Fred Hatt

This is an electronics store display pushing Playstations and Palm Pilots for Christmas.

Little Screens, 2005, photo by Fred Hatt

Little Screens, 2005, photo by Fred Hatt

Even clothing displays can create optical turmoil.

Gold Pants, 2008. photo by Fred Hatt

Gold Pants, 2008. photo by Fred Hatt

A kind of purely visual pandemonium can result from the conjunction of overly busy store window displays with reflections in the glass.  Maybe people don’t notice this effect because they visually separate things that are seen on different depth planes, but the camera compresses them into two dimensions.

Bike Shop, 2008, photo by Fred Hatt

Bike Shop, 2008, photo by Fred Hatt

Doll Window, 2004, photo by Fred Hatt

Doll Window, 2004, photo by Fred Hatt

Toy Shop, 2008, photo by Fred Hatt

Toy Shop, 2008, photo by Fred Hatt

This kind of visual excess has an energizing effect on me, like wild music that’s dissonant yet exuberant.

2009/04/20

Art & Fear

Filed under: Reviews: Writing — Tags: , , , — fred @ 20:23

Among artists over the years, I’ve often heard mention of a little book called Art & Fear: Observations on the Perils (and Rewards) of Artmaking, by David Bayles & Ted Orland (1993, Image Continuum Press).  The title never appealed to me, but the book kept rising to the surface, one of those things artists recommend or pass along to each other, so when it came up again I decided to read it.  It’s only 122 pages long.

The book emerged from years of conversation between Bayles and Orland around the question of why so many artists give up and quit.  The authors are both photographers, but they’ve deliberately chosen to focus on principles applicable to workers in just about any artform, and they are careful to draw their illustrative examples from a wide range of creative fields.

Personally, I’ve been making art for so long that I can’t even imagine giving it up, though, over time, I have experienced all the frustrations and doubts they describe.  As they say, “Making art now means working in the face of uncertainty; it means living with doubt and contradiction, doing something no one much cares whether you do, and for which there may be neither audience nor reward.”  Wow, that sums up the artist’s biggest challenge really well!

I’ve persevered as an artist just because I couldn’t find anything else that satisfied my soul deep down, but if I had had a family making urgent demands of me I can imagine succumbing to the difficulties.  Bayles and Orland have clearly observed and understood what artists go through, and they’ve distilled it into a gem of wisdom in this book.

Art & Fear had me constantly thinking, “Yes, I recognize exactly what you’re talking about.  I’ve seen it again and again.”  I was surprised to see these things expressed so succinctly, and then surprised again to realize that the issues are so common and yet so little addressed in writing on art.

The authors see right through the theoretical and romantic pretensions that cluster so thickly around art, and they go directly to the heart of the matter, from the point of view of the working artist.  And you have to admire the brevity!   Any artist tormented by blocks or doubts should give Art & Fear the small time it takes to make its big points.

2009/04/14

Composing on the Fly

Gaze Angle, 2009, by Fred Hatt

Gaze Angle, 2009, by Fred Hatt

This is one of my big black drawings, made about three weeks ago.  It’s 48″ x 60″, or 122 cm x 152 cm, aquarelle crayon on black paper cut from a large roll.  Excepting a little finishing work, this drawing was completed in one three hour session working from life with model Jessi.  I made some small warm-up drawings in a sketchbook at the beginning of our session, but didn’t directly use any of those in putting together the big piece.  There was no pre-planned composition.  I worked on the floor, sometimes crawling on top of the drawing, looking at my model on the other side of the studio.  All the overlapping figures are different poses of the same model.

I’ve made a number of these big drawings.  Sometimes they really work, and sometimes they fail, but when they do work the compositions have a vigor and a naturalness that I’ve never been able to achieve by deliberate design.

For this session, I photographed the work in progress whenever we took a break.  The “in progress” photos are a little rough.  You’ll see the weighted balls I use to hold the paper down, and in the first one the edge of my crayon box.  But they give some idea of how the work proceeds.

Stage 1, overlapping poses:

Gaze Angle, stage 1, 2009, by Fred Hatt

Gaze Angle, stage 1, 2009, by Fred Hatt

I started out by just asking Jessi to take different short poses of her own choosing for a few minutes at a time.  I sketched them with different colors, chosen arbitrarily, so when they overlap it would be possible to distinguish the lines of one figure from another.  By the time we took our first break there were five figures, already occupying most of the page.  I believe the figures were sketched working around the page in a clockwise direction, starting with the one on the lower right.   At this point I needed to stand up and get a sense of what was beginning to develop, and what possibilities remained in the still open spaces.  Jessi and I both looked at the piece and talked about what might come next.  These works are truly collaborations with the model!

Stage 2, establishing a center:

Gaze Angle, stage 2, 2009, by Fred Hatt

Gaze Angle, stage 2, 2009, by Fred Hatt

Only two additional figures were added in the second session, a sideways reclining pose in the upper half, and a kneeling figure with face upturned in the center.  That pose was selected specifically to fit the open space we noticed at the time of our first break.  I had also felt there was something interesting about the different heads facing in different directions.  A face looking upwards and another turned away seemed to add balance to this aspect of the composition.  I also liked the overlapping of hands and feet at the right center of the piece, and the juxtaposition of the four heads on the far left side with the roundness of shoulders, breast and thigh.

Stage 3, filling gaps:

Gaze Angle, stage 3, 2009, by Fred Hatt

Gaze Angle, stage 3, 2009, by Fred Hatt

During the third session, a foreshortened reclining figure was added to the largest remaining sparsely drawn area of the page.  Then two of the faces flanking that figure were developed.  They may have been looking a little lost in the increasing density and needed to be pulled forward.  The face just to the right of the center was given bright white eyes looking directly at the viewer of the drawing.  I think of that as a hook, a place to stop the eyes when they are swirling around in all the turbulence of the picture.  Some very linear body fragments were used to fill the two remaining “holes”.

Stage 4,  end of time working with model:

Gaze Angle, stage 4, 2009, by Fred Hatt

Gaze Angle, stage 4, 2009, by Fred Hatt

At this point we were running out of time.  At our last break I had noticed two areas that still felt a little undefined.  I’d seen Jessi with her face cradled in her hands, and this image seemed to add a nice bit of crisp detail, seen from two angles and left in a pure linear state, without shading.

Stage 5, finishing touches, days later:

Gaze Angle, 2009, by Fred Hatt

Gaze Angle (final), 2009, by Fred Hatt

After my session with Jessi was over I pinned the drawing up on the wall where I could walk past it and look at it over the next several days.  Finally, I made some finishing touches on it.  Not too much – It’s very easy to screw up a drawing like this by overworking it.  Just some background colors to bring out some parts of the figures that tend to get lost, and to separate and sharpen some of the facets.  There are also a few touches like the blue highlighting on the upper left and upper right faces, cross contours to give dimension to the elbow and hand in the upper left corner, and some development in the necks and collarbones near the center.

If you’re interested in other drawings made with this process, check out this gallery on my portfolio site.  I don’t know if anyone else works in a similar way – if you know of someone, let me know by leaving a comment.

This style developed out of my interest in capturing movement in drawing, and in working with the tension between order and chaos.  I noticed that my quick sketches had a great feeling of energy, but that energy was often diminished as a drawing became more finished.  I wanted to keep the spontaneity while increasing the complexity.  When hiring models for private work, I was compelled to do everything it was impossible to do in the regular group drawing sessions I attend. I can afford to hire models only occasionally, so I want to get my money’s worth!

For me, this process is about the magic of collaborating with Chaos.  I avoid preconceiving either the design or the theme.  As I wrote in one of my artist’s statements, “What is expressed in these works is not a concept or a personal feeling, but something unconceived, a spirit that emerges from the moment, from the interaction of artist and model and environment.”

I think I learned a lot from my brother Frank, a musician with a love for improvisation.  The key to improvising is to be fully engaged in the moment.  These drawings are one of my ways of practicing that vital spiritual discipline.

2009/04/09

Dorsal Emblems

Filed under: Body Art — Tags: , , — fred @ 20:30
Bird Goddess, 2002, bodypaint and photo by Fred Hatt

Bird Goddess, 2002, bodypaint and photo by Fred Hatt

Most of the body art shown in my online portfolios here and here is full-body work done in my studio.  But I have also frequently done body painting at festivals such as Sirius Rising, Starwood, Dance New England Summer Camp and the American Body Arts Festival, at pageants such as Earth Celebrations‘ Rites of Spring, and for dance performances, gallery openings and parties.   At such events, people often want images that express their personality or symbols that have spiritual meaning for them.  It’s just like a tattoo, but more spontaneous, less painful, and far less permanent.

The back is a good surface for painting, because it is relatively flat and expansive, but also because in touching someone’s back I feel directly connected to their essential energy without being distracted by their face.  So here’s a collection of images painted on people’s backs.

Botanical imagery expresses vitality and the power of growth:

Flower of Life, 2007, bodypaint and photo by Fred Hatt

Flower of Life, 2007, bodypaint and photo by Fred Hatt

Green Man, 2004, bodypaint and photo by Fred Hatt

Green Man, 2004, bodypaint and photo by Fred Hatt

Yggdrasil, 2002, bodypaint and photo by Fred Hatt

Yggdrasil, 2002, bodypaint and photo by Fred Hatt

This one is a Tree of Life, one of those archetypal images that appears in many forms in widespread cultures.  One of its meanings is making a connection between Heaven and Earth, as the tree penetrates and draws from the powers of both realms.  The trunk of the tree adorning the human trunk asserts that human life is poised between and nourished by the same poles.  The painting above was made to conceal a surgical scar with a healing symbol.

Another image of uniting the material and the spiritual worlds is the Winged Serpent.  The serpent slithering up the spine is also an expression of Kundalini, or the vertical flow of life energy in the body, while the wings express expansion and inspiration.  The wings on this one look a bit like a view of the lungs inside the thorax.

Winged Serpent, 2005, bodypaint and photo by Fred Hatt

Winged Serpent, 2005, bodypaint and photo by Fred Hatt

Quetzalcoatl, 2001, bodypaint and photo by Fred Hatt

Quetzalcoatl, 2001, bodypaint and photo by Fred Hatt

The version directly above was made for a performance by the great dancer and choreographer Homer Avila, who had recently lost a leg to cancer.

The butterfly expresses the idea of transformation and rebirth.  I find it nearly impossible to capture the beauty of a real butterfly in paint.  I reach for the feeling of expansiveness:

Papillon, 2005, bodypaint and photo by Fred Hatt

Papillon, 2005, bodypaint and photo by Fred Hatt

Birds express freedom and transcendence, power and intensity.  Here are three strong birds:

Firebird, 2002, bodypaint and photo by Fred Hatt

Firebird, 2002, bodypaint and photo by Fred Hatt

Eagle, 2002, bodypaint and photo by Fred Hatt

Eagle, 2002, bodypaint and photo by Fred Hatt

Falcon, 2005, bodypaint and photo by Fred Hatt

Falcon, 2005, bodypaint and photo by Fred Hatt

What I love most is when someone gives me free rein to paint whatever naturally emerges from the contact of my imagination and their body, through the divining-rod of the brush.  Here’s a proud striding bird:

Walking Bird, 2005, bodypaint and photo by Fred Hatt

Walking Bird, 2005, bodypaint and photo by Fred Hatt

Arcs, 2005, bodypaint and photo by Fred Hatt

Arcs, 2005, bodypaint and photo by Fred Hatt

Here is a pure abstraction, not a symbolic image at all, but I think it expresses something about the complexity and beauty of the person it adorns, something a symbol, with all its cultural baggage, never could.

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