Chance. Scratchboard with acrylic ink, 5 x 7 in. Copyright 2007, Tania Nault.
Ahh, that’s better: this colour is very true to the original board and as you can see, she has whiskers and I’ve signed it, so I’m officially done. Nothing left to do but wait for the framing to arrive!
I spent the morning at the Canadian Western Agribition watching the first round of the International Stock Dog Championship. And, yes, I took a lot of reference photos - I should have a sketch for a new scratchboard in the next day or so. I’ve actually been toying with the idea of entering something into the American Kennel Club’s “The Art Show at the Dog Show.” I wanted to do something with some action, or implied action, and thought the Border Collies at the stock dog trials would fit the bill. They did not disappoint! I saw everything from a lovely 1 minute 45 second run all the way down to a disqualification because the dog flew down the length of the ring and immediately latched on to one sheep by the shoulder. There were a few younger dogs in the ring and a couple of them seemed rather intimidated by the sheep, who would stand very rigid, arch their necks and stamp at the approaching dog. The whole event was fascinating to watch and made me very lonesome for our long gone Border Collie, Tippy.
Chance, Work in Progress. Scratchboardwith acrylic ink, 5 x 7 in. Copyright 2007, Tania Nault.
Here Chance is in colour. Despite my best efforts with Adobe Elements (the software I use to manage my digital photographs) I couldn’t quite get the colour of her fur in this digital image to match exactly what appears on the IRL (in real life) scratchboard. But take my word for it: the real scratchboard isn’t nearly so purple looking in the fur areas around the ruff and legs as what you’re likely seeing on your monitor.
To do the colour on this scratchboard I have three photo references to look at: one has a distinct red cast to the fur, as though one of Chance’s parents had been a fox; a second photo shows the facial tabby markings much more clearly, but the colour cast is rather yellow; and a third, taken outside out of direct sunlight (which, in my experience, would give the truest colour of all) shows that Chance’s fur is a wonderful combination of the two with some grey areas thrown in for good measure. Although, the third photo was taken in early spring and from the look of it Chance still had her winter coat in - I’ve always found an animal’s late winter coat to be somewhat duller that it would be in the summer - so I’ve taken a bit of visual information from each photograph to get the colours I’ve chosen for this scratchboard.
We Will Remember Them. Scratchboard with acrylic ink, 7 x 5 in. Copyright 2007, Tania Nault.
Yesterday my daughter and I participated in the Remembrance Day ceremonies at the Cenotaph at Victoria Park. The Cenotaph is dedicated to the memory of soldiers from Regina who gave their lives during World War I, World War II and the Korean War. One of the speakers commented on how these memorial ceremonies seem to be better attended with each passing year - despite the loss of people who actually lived through those wars - younger Canadians seem committed to honouring the sacrifice of previous generations. He speculated there were three reasons for this: first, schools and teachers have made learning about the wars a priority; secondly, there is a current connection to the work of our armed forces as Canadian men and women serve abroad in Afghanistan and elsewhere; and finally, there are many new Canadians who have recently come from other countries directly affected by war.
One resource that Canada went through some trouble to obtain during the war, but that doesn’t get much attention, is in the form of thousands of sketches and paintings created by Canadian artists in the War Art Program. Although photography was used to document Canada’s involvement in WWI and WWII, there were those who thought it was important that painters and sculptors also record the war. A variety of reasons were given, from an unwillingness to trust the relatively new medium of photography, to the desire to have the artist to make his (there was only one woman commissioned to the program during the war, Molly Lamb, and she was only sent overseas after the war was over) own personal feelings part of the work. The artists were soldiers “embedded” with ground troops, naval and air forces. In WWI artists like A.Y. Jackson and Frederick Varley were asked to join the program and WWII saw over 30 artists like Alex Colville and Charles Comfort join. They would create some 13,000 drawings, paintings and sculptures that are now part of the collection of the Canadian War Museum. Unfortunately, because of the size of the collection, there is no permanent display, although occasional exhibitions are made. One of the better known of these is Canvas of War (2000) which combined the exhibition of paintings with a television documentary and virtual gallery of the work. The documentary and online galleries give Canadians a chance to see the work of these artists, as well as a chance for us all to reflect on war and the lives of the men and women who sacrificed so much.
Chance, Work in Progress. Scratchboard, 5 x 7 in. Copyright 2007, Tania Nault.
Here I am at what I think as the “needs whiskers” stage. I’m almost happy with the variations in light and dark areas, with the variations in texture, and with the level of detail. I’ve learned that when I start getting the urge to put on finishing touches like whiskers, it’s time to stop and set the work aside for a little while. It helps me get a little perspective and when I come back to it, I’m looking at it with fresh eyes.
Which means, of course, that tomorrow I’m doing laundry.
Chance, Work in Progress. Scratchboard, 5 x 7 in. Copyright 2007, Tania Nault.
Here we are a couple days later: I have the rest of Chance’s face done and more of the ruff around her neck. The owner has been in touch and is pleased with the progress to this point, so I’m happy.
As I work, I’m not only paying attention to fur direction and value, I’m also trying to represent the different fur textures: short soft hairs on the face; longer, somewhat coarser hairs as we transition to the body; and the very long, but silky hairs in the ruff. Why so much attention to texture? Why spend all that time trying to visually represent something that can only be experienced by touch? Well, it’s been my experience that when we’re looking at a visual depiction of a real thing, we’re not just processing visual clues - light, shadow, colour - if the artist has done her/his job properly, we’re also processing clues for our sense of touch - texture. For example, when an artist contrasts a smooth surface like an egg with a rough surface like a rock neither texture is actually there, only the visual indicators are, but the feeling remains: the egg is smooth, while the rock is rough.
As a representational artist, this concept was something I accepted at face value and hadn’t given a lot of extra thought, aside from practising getting textures to make sure they “feel right” in my work. But I was watching television the other night, and the Discovery Channel had a program about evolution/changes in humans, The Real Superhumans and the Quest for the Future Fantastic, and one segment caught my attention: artist Esref Armagan, from Turkey. Blind since birth, Armagan paints in a folk arts style, but his work shows a surprising level of sophistication for someone who has never seen the things he paints. His buildings, for example, are in perspective - a concept which sighted artists frequently have to be taught, i.e. as an object recedes in space, it gets smaller.
Tests done on Armagan while he was touching an object before he drew it showed that the parts of his brain, which in a sighted person would be receiving visual stimuli from the eyes, were active. Somehow, his brain was visually processing the information from his fingers. And while he drew, both of the parts of his brain where touch and sight reside were processing information. Apparently, tests done on other blind individuals have shown that the visual part of their brains “light up” when they read in Braille.
As an artist, I find this fascinating. Is this why the depiction of texture is so important to representational, realistic art? When an artist accurately depicts a texture is s/he giving the viewer’s brain enough information to “feel” the differences in texture? Is this why realism in art appeals to many people - because it is being enjoyed by two different senses?
