Category: Leonard Greco Art

This little drawing , part of my daily drawing practice , a mere 6″, caused me a great deal of self doubt and personal loathing yesterday . For no matter how I tried , erasing , tweaking, scrutinizing every pencil stroke, I could just not get it right . The eyes were off , the ears imbalanced; I’d post it on Instagram only to delete moments later mortified that I had revealed my all too apparent inadequacies.
My last crit ( gosh I have skin as thin as Mr Trump it seems ) the facilitator questioned if I really understood the principles of anatomy or of perspective . And since then I have feverishly worked towards remedying that  deficiency . If I am honest, not to solely improve the work but to avoid the humiliation of exposing my flaws . That  criticism  exposed all I hate about my work and by extension myself.

I don’t have as firm a grasp on perspective or anatomy as I might wish . Being self taught had its benefits but it has its negatives as well. I see other artists render the form with incredible grace and apparent ease. Yet I struggle and  I will continue to do so. I plan on taking a course in perspective this autumn , for although I grasp the principles I haven’t the foundation that others possess. And I of course love drawing the body … Even if I suck at it .

But in the end , anatomy or perspective , qualities of light  and dark, they aren’t what makes or breaks my work . They can enhance my intentions when I place brush to canvas but it is the spirit of my work ( of all work that I admire ) that makes my work satisfying .

Yesterday’s narcissistic masochism quashed that spirit . I want to be in a place where I can present lame sad -assed drawings and not feel completely debased .

It’s part of the process I suppose , one pencil strike at a time .

Now to work.

  My last critique ( which will indeed be the last ) has left me reeling . And although the criticism lobbed against the work has in an unexpected way provided inspiration. My work was compared to both wallpaper and paper dolls , two directions I find fascinating- even if that was not the intent . I think exploring the frankly gendered even homophobic accusation that my figures look like paper dolls is exciting . I mean what grown man plays with paper dolls? Me I suppose. But inspiration aside I’ve been feeling hobbled in the studio , fussing but not producing .

The group leader who possesses empathy without pandering , something I admire, confessed that after critiques in her own past she was unable to work in her studio for several weeks.

I simply do not have that time .

 So although I feel dispirited I am facing the studio . Primarily focusing upon drawing , something that feels nurturing and familiar . And without conscious intent I turn to the Baptist John. 

  Drawing away , happy with the quiet I suddenly become hyper self critical – the legs , they are so wrong .My inner voice jumps into overdrive “you really do not possess anatomical understanding , just as the group had asserted !”

It’s a horrible feeling when your harsh inner critical voice is echoed by an external one .

I was about ready to toss the whole damned drawing ( the medium , colored pencil , wasn’t erasing properly ). But instead I decided, partly in defiance to my own demons , to continue drawing .

In this case legs .

  Working from source material I am trying to understand legs and feet; specifically trying to understand the difference between feet depicted in classical sculpture and actual feet. Why the stylization of the toe next to the big toe . Was it simply more graceful ? It does give a pleasant V shape . A lot to explore , plus it silences the nasty demons .

Concerns such as this will occupy my brain, I will try to reject “rightness” over expression and I will continue to try to process the criticisms , perhaps even benefiting from them.

Today I have my life drawing class ,sadly  soon to end and now I am scrambling to find other venues to continue this integral part of my practice .

Until next time, be well.

  There was a period in my life when Alanon meetings were a weekly , sometimes daily event. So often I found myself drowning in emotional torment and I literally , often blindly, grabbed on to whatever advice was offered . But over time I had to recognize that  though the advice offered may be well intentioned it may not be approptiate for me.

 My backstory, my desires and my needs were often at odds to what was being offered . At one point my sponsor tried to instill in me the ability to take what worked and leave the rest behind . If only it were that easy . 
Such as it is with critique groups I’m beginning to feel. This morning I had the first critique of my work since PAFA. I was determined to not be cowed by the experience at the Academy and when presented with an opportunity to join a critique group with the Los Angeles Art Association I leapt at the chance. And overall l believe it was a positive experience . 

There were the observations of apparent flaws in perspective , anatomy , light and space , criticisms I had heard in Philadelphia . But I feel I have been addressing them on my own terms. I do think being self taught, not being equipped with what seems to be very familiar jargon and aesthetic expectations leaves me at a disadvantage at times. But it also allows for work that I hope does not look like the work of others . In fact what seemed to be a prevailing sentiment was that my work possessed its own vocabulary ; if I accomplish nothing else before I shed this mortal coil, that will have made me proud.
There was so much talk of intentionality ( as there was in Philadelphia – that must be quite a buzz word amongst the schooled ) and  with that reference one can infer a lack of intentionally on my part. That is so peculiar as my work is so far from random. There were concerns that my perspective was just not right, that perhaps my figures were just a bit off and the concern  that somehow I just wasn’t comprehending these principles. I study these principles with fervor and work to my ability ( and then some ) but the Welsh artist Clive Hicks-Jenkins who I  admire so very much once warned me of the stifling trap of such disciplines . His advice early on was to make my figures (and space) convincing but not to be ensnared by academic sense of rightness for the creative spark can so easily be extinguished . With that in mind I haven’t pursued realizable space but the in- between spaces, often dizzying and overwhelming. The world of my interior; my decisions made with intention to express what I so often find vague and fleeting.

There is a confession I may need to make concerning light and space and that is my own lack of depth perception . Recently it was discovered in an eye exam that I lacked a sense of it, having failed rather miserably the depth perception test. That came as a bit of relief because I have struggled with how my work is percieved by others and been puzzled by that reception . For work that  seemed to me perfectly reasonable and recognizable ( certainly not academic realism but convincing) was deemed by some as lacking . I believe now I just might be seeing things differently and will continue to work from that vantage point .

I was thankful to the leader of our group for I felt that in spite of her initial hesitation to the work ( particularly the latest painting Seizing Sanctimonium ) she truly looked at the work and gave it it’s due ( and some very helpful advice ). The group as a whole was earnest in its attempt at offering advice in order to improve and I am sure over time I will refer back to their suggestions . I’m grateful to them for that . There was only one sarcastic remark and later when I spoke privately to the fellow he confessed that yes he had meant it as an insult . So one must take that and then let it go. Again , not easy , but what can you do. I don’t want skin so thick that my heart cannot beat freely .

My buddy, my comrade , Paul Torres supported my efforts with the enthusiasm I feel for his work. I may never have a large audience ,but I do have admirers and delighted Paul is one of them. Inmany ways my work is self indulgent for its first aim is to please me, that I guess is my intention. Now I need the confidence to express it.

 I must go for a run, clear the mind and be ready to start anew. Be well

  
As Easter begins here in Los Angeles, and my neighbors fuss with their delicious tamales , the steam of the maize wafting about as powerfully as frankincense, I’m struck once again by the similarities between the Quiche Maya narrative and that of my own familiar Christian narrative . That similarity being the brutal sacrifice of an innocent , his Ressurection and our redemption. 

In the Popol Vuh narrative the maize god Hunahpu’s sacrifice allows for us to be born. For our flesh is His, that of maize. As the Easter Eucharist is joyously raised aloft this morning I wonder if it ought to be made of corn.

May this Resurrection  Day, be it Christian or so called pagan, be glorious!🌽🌽🌽

 Good Friday ,has for some time, been for me a day to reflect , not in a self consciously “religious” way ( I seem to lack the traditional  faith element) but in an existential way ( talk about sounding self conscious and pretentious). I plan to spend this  day with a friend , check out some art and be more acutely aware of this situation we call life that I am so entangled in. For one day I will be disentangled and no matter what you believe , there aren’t any retakes .

 Enclosing a few images from paintings depicting the deposition of Christ.
  

The Descent from the Cross, 2015, acrylic on canvas

  Agnus Dei,2015, relief print on paper 

 
Descent from the Cross, 2015, watercolor on paper

Happy Holy Week

   
Much of my day yesterday was spent in my life drawing class and frankly I should have just  stayed put in my studio . The model was extraordinary,  a beautiful and graceful woman who knew how to strike a pose ( and sustain it ). And the drawings really weren’t that bad but my choice of medium (Sanguine and graphite ) made for unhappy results, muddy ugly affairs. The truth is I have difficulty producing ” finished drawings”, ones that stand on their own. For I have spent my life viewing my daily drawing practice as a sevice to my painting practice . I left the class feeling I had squandered the elegance of the model and having wasted many hours. 

Happily my studio time  that evening was more productive , familiar medium , my music ( not EDM!) and the beasties . I finished up yet another figure in a complex painting , nearing closer to the finish line.

And now , another day. 

  Given it is the Lenten season it might be appropriate that there is sooty charcoal all over my face and hands . But not so much a result of extreme penitence but instead a day of working with charcoal and graphite . This post is a sampling of today’s progress.
   

   
 I am taking a life drawing course with the excellent artist Jim Morphesis and in just a few weeks my drawings have become more confident . Plus I’m just relishing drawing and my productivity is up.

 So thanks Jim!

   As the year comes closer to an end I have tried to finish up a few unfinished projects and reflect upon what I have accomplished and what has gone unexpressed . My intention was to at least finish up a small panel of St.Kevin but then the last of my monarch caterpillar went off to seek their fate and my heart was heavy with worry. So to channel that worry I went to work on a drawing , this is the result .
    The Apparition of the Great Sphinx of the Night

2015

Graphite on paper, approximately 18 by 24″

In 1940 Andre Breton sponsored an exhibition in Mexico City called the International Exhibition of Surrealism; Isabel Marín was dressed in white with a giant butterfly gracing her fine head . It seemed a fitting theme to riff upon while fretting over our dear caterpillars. May the gods watch over them and may they flourish.

  Merry Christmas and a most fulfilling new year!