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| Chalk Pastel, Youth on Parthenon Acropolis Frieze, British Museum London |
So, without further ado, voila! This is a drawing of a figure I call "The Victorious Youth" because it vaguely reminds me of the beautiful Greek bronze statue in the Getty Villa (which I also drew, once upon a time http://drawingsinjournals.blogspot.com/2010/11/study-of-victorious-youth.html).
But enough about what the figure reminds me of; it is actually inspired by the Parthenon Frieze of the Acropolis. The majority of the carved marbles from the Parthenon (including the frieze, pediment groups, and the Metopes) are housed in the British Museum, one of the worlds best free museums (as an ancient art enthusiast I may be a bit biased). Carved by Phidias and his pupils during the fifth century BC, these marble statues adorned the Parthenon for over two thousand years as Rome rose and fell, Christian crusaders invaded, and the Ottoman Empire reigned. The Parthenon was tragically damaged by an explosion during the Ottoman-Venetian wars (because storing ammunition in an ancient temple seemed like a good idea).
In 1800, Lord Elgin, an English ambassador to the Ottoman Empire, used official permission, broad interpretation, and some bribery to remove many of the marble statues from the Parthenon itself. He shipped them off to England, where many were wowed by their beauty but upset by their imperialistic acquisition. Ultimately, the British Museum purchased the statue groups, where they have retained the name, "The Elgin Marbles." There is an ongoing debate about the legality of Elgin's actions and whether the British Museum should send the statues back to Greece. But enough history (and politics) for now, I would much rather discuss the art!
Upon entering the large room housing the Elgin Marbles in the British Museum, I arbitrarily turned right to follow the procession of marble horses and men. My eye was immediately drawn to this youth, who so daringly displays his nude body in twisted motion--progressing forward while gracefully turning back. The dynamic composition encouraged me to pull out my sketchbook and begin to draw.
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Through drawing, I looked closer and studied both the form and style of the statue. This close observation unveiled details that I would have missed as a passing spectator. The original placement of his missing feet, the countered weight of his body, the inhaling ribcage and contracted abdomen, the concerted gaze, all work together to make the figure organic and believable yet somehow sublime in beauty. The unfurled cloak is especially revealing; it seems to evoke the figure's motion by recreating in an abstract form both the organic reality and weightless effect. I actually made several drawings of this figure (several unsuccessful) attempting to capture all of these enigmatic qualities. The incredible quality of the figure is eloquently summed up by Andrew Stewart in his book on Greek Sculpture:
The sculptor's handling of the body itself is synoptic, not analytic: he comprehends it not, like Polykleitos, as the sum of its parts, but as an organic entity, [...] of smooth, rippling flesh, and supple, yet wholly directed movement
The mood is best described by the Greek word eusebeia or thoughtful piety [...] Thus heads are oven bowed in reverence, lips are a little parted and slightly downturned, foreheads are broken by a line of concentration that never quite becomes a frown, and expressions are solemn and introverted, preoccupied.
Andrew Stewart
Greek Sculpture, 156
While my drawing may not capture every detail of the figure, I took the liberty of using colors that evoked its effect on me as a viewer. In ancient times, the figures were painted and the background was a dark blue (before centuries of weather and a few years of cleaning in the British Museum removed all traces of the coloration). However, I did not use that knowledge to directly influence my coloration, rather I relied on the effect of the cold marble that somehow seemed so warm with movement. I used cold colors to portray the figure, but gave a reddish resonance or echo to suggest that inherent warmth of motion. The youth may be made of rigid marble, but if you look close enough, his flesh almost seems to twitch with anticipated motion. Other drawings I made were much more conventional (brown and black charcoal on sepia paper) but this one, although not perfectly detailed in the particulars, conveys the effect perhaps most successfully.
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| Class with the Parthenon Frieze |
This drawing, like those that I will discuss in subsequent posts, has found a new home with a good friend (who I hope enjoys looking at it as much as I enjoyed making it!) For, after all, art is a process. True the product is an essential confirmation of that process, but the journey to that end is beautiful in its own way. To quote my former art teacher,
The act of painting is the act of discovery.
It is adventurous.
It is arduous.
Ultimately the joy is in the doing.
The making of the thing.
The work itself.
- Mark Eanes
So thus ends my first "official post" of Drawings Delivered! I may have set the bar too high with such a lengthy description, but for an artwork so incredible, such long-winded praises are well deserved. Until next time!
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| Parthenon Frieze, view of the hall, British Museum |
