Madonna e Bambino: A Last Look

For the last few months I have been using my spare moments to work on this small Madonna and Child statue (spare moments, by the way, are like all those little fractions of pennies from Superman III. If you add them all together they're worth BILLIONS).

For a model, I began by using a picture of an obscure 1930s forgery -a wooden statue that was made to look as if it had come from the 1500s. If you think you've seen "distressed," think again. After getting a general pose I sort of took off on my own into the unknown.

The statue is made of plasticine clay, which is a marvelous kind of non-drying clay. It's very handy if you plan to work on something over a long period of time. It reacts to heat rather than moisture, which I also like. And I have nostalgic memories of the smell from working with Mr. Armstrong.

Now I had planned to have this cast in bronze if it turned out well, so earlier this week I dropped it off at a foundry outside of Florence. And by "dropped it off" I mean I carried the soft clay statue, on a hot day, in my hands, on a 4 hour car/train/bus ride that finally made me understand what poor Mrs. Bennet was talking about when she says "my nerves! My poor nerves!" The pictures above were taken just before I left the foundry. My last look at the statue.

Sadly, in the end there was simply not enough time to have the bronzes made (the process would have included several more trips to Florence). But I did purchase the mold so that I can have them made in the future. Someday!

Perfect Little Books

I've been keeping a lot of notes lately, writing down ideas and character designs for future stories as they tumble in. And I've found the perfect little notebooks for these escapades:



There is a little stationary and bookbinding shop in Pontremoli that sells small blank books with reproduced covers from old classical literature paperbacks -Dante, Shakespeare and Wilde. The unlined paper is perfect for drawing, the size is just right for carrying everywhere, and they look great sitting on your desk. To the casual observer it looks as if I am reading Macbeth in Italian.

Portrait Power

Last week I finished a portrait of Giuseppe (that's it pictured above), our eccentric, 82-year-old Sicilian neighbor. I painted it over several short afternoon sessions, always depending on his ability to come and sit. Giuseppe, as energetic an octogenarian as I've ever seen, always has plenty of his own projects underway - all involved with restoring an old house that, a year ago, was little more than a ruin.

This is the first portrait painting I've attempted in nearly two years so, even though it could have been pushed further in some ways, I'm pleased with how it turned out. I mean, it looks a bit like Giuseppe...