Monday 16 April 2007

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Wednesday 4 April 2007

Storyboard Video

Storyboard







Tuesday 3 April 2007

Bones


Thursday 25 January 2007

Observing Francis Bacon 'Figure in Movement"


Observing Francis Bacon


I chose the Francis Bacon painting ‘Figure in Movement’. In this image a form is slumped down in the center, made up of curved and sweeping lines it holds a sense of volume, life and movement to the body.
The form for me is reaching out from inside, here the internal emotions are expressed through deformities of the external body. A puzzle of twisted limbs and body parts suggest expressive ideas from inside; that cannot be captured in reality. It portrays frustration and self exploration, a voice inside that cannot be communicated with words or gestures.

It is a very personal piece, and gives an interesting starting point for us to understand our own self expression, and the diverse ways people communicate.
Furthermore it explores the idea that the human body is just a shell and a tool, sometimes a prison. There is a limit as to what we can achieve with the body we are given, and sometimes the vastness of our minds thought can seem to be held back by physicality; which could lead to frustration and self destruction.

In the painting, black layered circles are used almost as an emotional x-ray viewing obscure imagery, giving us more insight into the ambiguous thought of this individual. Over the back of the figure in one circle seems to be a large tongue and the other circle over the face appears to be a brain which is complex as it is messy compared to the starkness and fluidity of the figure.

Further indications that this is indeed a representation of the minds thought is the simple white frame that the body is presented in. The high contrast of the black background and white line is comparable to that of a chalk diagram on a teachers black board adding a certain child-like influence; a childish nature that the body seems to exist within.

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In my own interpretation of Bacon’s work I worked with a mix of white acrylic paint and a sludgy brown water colour; that covered an old brush I had left in a water cup for days. This helped me to be more natural in my approach and not to over think the process. I painted shapes onto the paper, building up the layers into organic forms and defining them with charcoal to be more relatable as human.
I tried to combine my own aesthetics into the piece by use of old scraps of paper to collage around the form.
I then photographed the painting and continued to work with layers on Photoshop, adding more texture and variations of atmosphere.

The outcome of this task has directed me to be more aware of my own personal expression, and the type of illustration I wish to pursue in the future, and not that of which I think is expected of me by others.
Francis Bacons work is inspiring as it portrays honesty, whether good or bad.

Painters house


Paris on the first day of summer 1943
A wide eyed young man on knees,
Arms draped over his brass balcony
From below, ribbons of light
Reflect the emotional currents of his sight

Old men gambling with a dusty deck
Shake their winning tins
In glory of the dancing girl
Her hair pinned back tight
Revealing porcelain skin

Every morning as sun would rise
Thus the dance begins
Watching her movement like a shimmering pearl
He paints on crumpled paper
The freedom of the spinning girl

The girl was of the dreaming sort
That gazed up to the sky
But Paris had
Much chimney smoke
That meant the stars were blind

Now the spinning girl lay bare and honest
His pallet of rouge in one hand
He painted with passion, the marks of life
That stained the paper
He had made by hand

Through the painters strokes
She found her escape
But only for a while
Her light was fading into darkness
No use to say goodbye

He was alone tossed on the floor,
His twisted figure lay in despair
For she was gone
Leaving stains of rouge
And charcoal strands of hair

Since that day, ahead of time in 1983
The small eyed man on aching knees
Clung to his brass balcony
From below, ribbons of light called him with a roar
The old man fell into their arms and he was then no more

Four empty rooms along the Seine
Now Linger, undiscovered
A painting hung on every space
The story of the lovers