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| Rearing horse, graphite and white chalk |
I started my “Rearing Horse” relief sculpture with a drawing based on Leonardo’s study for the “Battle of
Anghiari”(see previous blog). Then I did
a drawing study of the skeleton of a rearing horse, and then a drawing study of
the muscles. Once again, I try not to
look too much at Leonardo’s drawing after I start the clay, because my work is
never going be anything like his. It’s presumptuous to make a sculpture based on Leonardo’s
work. However, all of my life I’ve
looked at Leonardo’s horse drawing and thought that it would make a terrific
relief sculpture. So I finally decided to try it,
with thanks and apologies to Leonardo. I'm
one of many artists who have attempted to work from Leonardo's drawings. It's almost a rite of passage. Kind of like a violinist trying to play the
Brahms violin concerto - you have to try, if only to find out how much more
work you have left to do.
Meanwhile, I had a challenging
week. My “Trotting Horse” relief was
rejected from an exhibition, which really bothered me, even though it’s the only exhibition
rejection I’ve had this year, it’s late June, and I’ve already been in many
exhibitions. I was so disgruntled that I
didn’t even check to see the results of another show, consequently, I didn’t
know I’d won an award the same day I got my rejection. You can’t have a fragile ego or thin skin to
be a practising artist. Rejection is
part of the game, and you have to accept your losses and move on. But this one got to me. So I trudged around, feeling like a failure
for four days when I could have at least felt good about the award I won. Dumb.
I chose to hang on to that pain instead of feeling positive,
or at least neutral – one win, one lose.
Very dumb.
Meanwhile, I’ve been glazing, firing and mounting the
“Trotting Horse” to ship next week to an equine art exhibition across the
country. These horse reliefs are an
experiment. I don’t know anything about
horses except that they’re beautiful. I've never done any horse sculptures before. I’ll find out what the equine art people think of my horses; they will let
me know if I’ve made some anatomical bloopers or not. I’m also experimenting with porcelain for the
first time with these reliefs, which is techincally difficult and
challenging. This makes me think of
Leonardo.
It’s difficult to associate Leonardo da Vinci, the greatest of artists, with failure,
but not everything he did was a glorious success. Two Leonardo drawings that I used as a basis
for relief sculptures were preparatory drawings for lost works of Leonardo’s
that were not successes. One drawing was
for the monumental “Gran Cavallo" horse sculpture that was never completed and
which 16th c. soldiers used for target practice. The other was a preparatory drawing for the
lost painting of the “Battle of Anghiari” in which Leonardo experimented with painting
materials new to him and which literally slid off the wall. As I’ve worked on these two reliefs, I can’t
help thinking about this: Leonardo, the
greatest of all great artists, had failures, too. Both the Gran Cavallo and the Battle of Anghiari
were failures largely the result of experimenting with new materials and/or new
techniques. It’s interesting that
Leonardo forged ahead trying out new things, apparently without a backup plan in
case something didn’t work. And he did
his experiments in public, for the whole world to see.
The Battle of Anghiari was intended to be part of a tryptich
for a huge long wall in the Palazzo Vecchio in Florence. The opposite wall was supposed to have been
painted by Michelangelo, but he didn’t finish his wall, either. I like to think of these two guys backing up
to see their work, as painters do, and bumping into each other. What a shame they didn’t like each other and
instead of commenting, “Hey, great leg!” or “Wonderful horse!” there was only
silence and hostility. But the space is
dark and unpleasant. I can see why
nobody wanted to work there. And if the
paintings had been finished, nobody could have ever seen them properly, because
there isn’t enough room to step back and look at the painting from a
distance. (Like the Guggenheim, another
stupid exhibition space by Frank Lloyd Wrong many centuries later, but that’s
another story.)
Leonardo’s final self portrait drawing in red chalk does not
show the face of a happy, peaceful man gratified with the rewards of a life
well spent. I see an embittered,
discouraged man, his unflinchingly clear eyes haunted by failure and his lips
pulled down with disappointment and disillusionment. His expression is one of almost grim
determination. This is a man who is discouraged,
but not beaten. When I was young, I
thought this drawing showed Leonardo’s sorrow and exasperation with the
ignorance and foolishness of his time.
Now that I am the same age he was when he drew it, I think it was
probably his own failures, frailties and errors that created that
expression. Those are the hardest to
live with.
Leonardo da Vinci
"I have offended God and mankind because my work didn't reach the quality it should have."
Leonardo da Vinci
Perfectionism is not easy, and no one aimed higher than
Leonardo. He tried to draw everything he
saw and he saw everything. But not even
the supremely gifted Leonardo was always successful. He wasn't afraid to experiment or risk failure. You can’t win them all. But you can’t win if you don’t enter. Failure is part of learning. So go ahead, make mistakes. Learn from them. And then do it again, only this time, make new mistakes.
"Obstacles cannot crush me. Every obstacle yields to stern resolve. He who is fixed to a star does not change his mind."
Leonardo da Vinci
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