|Muse|um: Sketching in the West Pavilion

On a bleak January evening, nearly one year past, a modern art survey course brought me to the 19^th century gallery of the Getty’s West Pavilion for the very first time. Strolling the parquet floors I made my selection from the works that punctuated the formal walls of forest green. Here are sketches made on that occasion (alongside the originals), as well as an excerpt from the final paper they accompanied.

“It is from contrasts that Degas draws an art, translating the society of the late nineteenth century onto paper and canvas. His eye discerns the falsity and irony behind the delicate splendor of Parisian life, with its glittering opera halls, flurried movement, and colorful ballets. His pieces juxtapose ephemeral beauty and grotesque reality; beside the grandeur of flickering stage light and dancers on point are shadowy faces and strained expressions. Degas’ ability to capture these subtleties transcends medium as demonstrated by the sweeping strokes of chalk pastel in Waiting (1882), and the rich oil on canvas of The Convalescent (1872-87). Both pieces are striking examples of the melancholy hardship of the working class, characteristic of Degas’ female portraiture, yet each is distinguished by differing composition, palette and technique. A centered subject, neutral palette and dry brush taint The Convalescent with a feel of static decay, while oblique lines, aesthetic contrasts and the soft blend of pastel instill Waiting with a sense of rising action and anticipatory fatigue.”

Images of Degas' original works are courtesy the Getty Center.

Woodland Wanderings

This ink and acrylic series of specimens from my personal sketchbook is inspired by a 19^th century botany illustration I saw under glass at a library exhibit. A predominantly natural palette intermixed with vibrant blues and reds, make these little mushrooms unexpected beauties. They are surely destined for something special at Natural Historie, I simply cannot wait to get them properly scanned and incorporated into fresh new designs for the shop.

Pages from the Past

Of late I’ve been haunting a deserted corner on the fourth floor of the research library, pouring over the dilapidated bindings of the yearbook archives. Though on assignment for the student media’s marketing department, I simply had to take a few snapshots to savor the hours spent pouring over the pages of Southern Campus 1932. These young collegians emanate such a nonchalant elegance, as they candidly pose in front of the buildings I still walk by on my morning route. The book’s creamy textured inserts are so richly designed with strikingly modern color illustrations printed in bold and metallic inks. And populating a quite historic spread, I found snapshots of Royce Hall, picturesquely dusted with the infamous snow of January 1932.

Gone Away is the Bluebird

Here to stay is a new bird. At least for the holiday season, at Natural Historie. "A right merry little fellow, larking amidst the foxgloves and holly boughs, he’ll bring such cheery tidings to loved ones near and far." A punch of deep red and a sprinkle of iridescent glitter graces these notecards, the first in what I hope will be a continued festive line. {A Natural Historie Holiday} It is wondrous winter woodlands and the sparkle of white. The stark contours of barren branches and the vivid crimson of holly berries. The flurry of wildlife and the peace of snowy landscapes.

A Cover Story

When I first set brush to canvas, it was a late autumn evening, barely warm enough to leave one window slightly ajar and let the far off strains of the high school’s marching band waft in on the cool night breeze. Under the warmth of the desk lamp, two half-empty tubes of black and white acrylic paint lay next to the splattered palette Ms. Marks had issued the first day of school. A few weeks later, while shirking my art history studies, paintbrush shamelessly in hand, I finished it.

On a late October afternoon, not but two years later, I found myself flitting down the steps of Dodd Hall, thankfully liberated from the philosophy professor’s drone, and skittishly headed toward the bottom floor of the administrative building. Several corridors and stair flights latter I reached the tiny office where they sat in stacks.

Waiting, featured on the cover of the 2007 volume of the UCLA Literary Journal, Westwind.

Ever so excitedly, I picked up a copy. There they were, the brushstrokes of my prized painting, so faithfully reproduced on each and every one of their glossy covers. With several copies in arm, I re-emerged into the golden light of the afternoon, amusedly pondering the coincidental perfection of the title Waiting. Natural Historie

Waiting, along with the rest of the black and white portrait series I completed during my senior year.