They Had the Power

Did you ever notice how some things simply change our culture to the nth degree? It seems the older I get the more I realize just how true that is. I was thinking the other day about what sort of things have come into our world since I can remember ... velcro, microwave ovens, home videos, cell phones, personal computers, internet, and a bloggosphere. The list goes on and on. That’s progress, I suppose. And, it’s okay.

Something really weird happened in the 1980s. There was a cultural shift that was the counter-part of everything the 60s and 70s had to offer... and then some. It went beyond the really big hair, fake everything, and supper tight jeans. So many things were changing fast and as a young mother I was on high alert to protect my kids. Of all the things I controlled for my children I have to say the television was most passionately limited. I allowed a half hour of tv entertainment five days a week and the programs offered were Looney Tunes, Muppets, Mr. Rogers, or Sesame Street. We had a few VCR tapes and PBS reception was fine enough for what limited amount was seen.

Atari - a popular game in the 80s

Those darn Mario Bros and Donkey Kong were introduced then, too. I found myself horrified with the many parents who were sitting their children in front of entertainment boxes, letting them play computer games and Atari for hours on end. I personally couldn’t find the benefit of using that sort of day-care for my kids so we instead found ways to use our imagination and simply play in the real world. It seemed everywhere I turned folks were telling me I was depriving my children of progress. Progress ... there’s that word again.

Marketers figured something out in the 80s ... they understood that Baby Boomers still controlled the dollars, and the children of Baby Boomers controlled their parents. It was obvious that whatever toys these kids wanted, they would get – just research the Cabbage Patch Doll, Coleco years, and you’ll see what I mean.

The Cabbage Patch Doll even hit the UK!

So, how does one better market to the children?  Mattel’s Product Development Department had worked up a line of action figures listed under the series called “Masters of the Universe”, and they sold remarkably well. However, sales could be boosted still further with some clever entertainment coordination so the Marketing Department took control. I do believe that Mattel got more than they parleyed for when they approached Filmation Studio and proposed a deal to produce a cartoon show based on the popular action-figures ... He-Man and the Masters of the Universe was born.

Filmation Studio was an impressive power-house at that time. Their seasoned animators produced an extraordinary amount of quality work when they created the first season of He-Man. By painstakingly rotoscoping live action footage, they created a library of stock character movements that were simply superb. The background artists produced dazzling and dream-like settings for the action to play out. Combine all that with haunting and melodious music and this new cartoon had a style and sensibility that was stunningly different from others ever seen.

He-Man’s storylines were not typical either. In the beginning they were  straightforward enough, but a few episodes in to it the scriptwriters took the simply typical characters and began to explore who they were as people. The personalities grew as they struggled with human issues like parental pride, personal usefulness, friendship, adoption, and learning to cope when things seemed frustratingly wrong.

During the first season of He-Man there was a lot of controversy over the series. Many people were more than unhappy once they understood that corporations were marketing directly to children.  Was He-Man nothing more than a salesman directing a half-hour Mattel commercial that was manipulating children for a profitable end? For me, I immediately saw the blurring of that imagined line that defined distinctions between art and commerce. I have never believed in that line. Picture making has always been used for commerce, even Michelangelo and de’ Vinci knew that truth. The question, really, was how inappropriate was it to market to children? As a young mother I set out to truly ponder this concept; to understand how this He-Man character could be thought of as anything different from Santa Clause, Easter Bunny, Smoky Bear, Charlie Brown and his Great Pumpkin, or what ever. Children have been marketed to for a very, very long time and the only unusual thing that happened in the 80s was over-seas cheap mass production of toys and new technological entertainment tools that virtually reached for potential fans (kids). The protest that got me was when Dr. Thomas Radecki, of the National Coalition for Television Violence, insisted that the He-Man series was "a blatant attempt to sell violence to children through the peddling of violent action toys... The brutal barbarian is still held up as a model."

What? I had to ask myself ... where were the parents? Must we depend on a national coalition to tell a business what they can or cannot try to sell because a parent can’t say no? Is that product development team so supreme that they are controlling children by preaching buy, buy, buy while parents are stunned helplessly on the side lines in disbelief? I had to see that power for myself, so I sent my kids to their room every afternoon for a week while I watched He-Man to learn how violent and barbaric this muscle-bound character was. What I learned was that reasoned discussion was ignored while polarizing rhetoric ruled the day. I didn’t just approve of He-Man, I thought it a marvelous and entertaining thing that I could comfortably show my children.  Since we were in Alaska and riding behind times in the lower-48, our first year for He-Man coincided with the first year of She-Ra, so both shows where played back to back each afternoon from 3:00 to 4:00.  My children’s entertainment time instantly doubled to one hour, five days a week.

For the record, standards during those years did not allow either He-Man or She-Ra to be violent characters. They could not use their swords as offensive weapons, nor could they directly punch or kick anyone. Only robotic enemies were allowed to be destroyed. When pushed, simple body throws where shown, though most often both He-Man and She-Ra cleverly outsmarted their adversaries. Moral lessons were shown at the end of each episode which promoted good civic behavior on many levels ... no littering, no lying, clean your room, think of the consequences, be respectful, courteous, kind, and forgiving.

Both of my children adored He-Man and She-Ra and for many years their play did reflect those cartoons. They also drew them and, at the end of it all, those heroes played a very big part in my girl’s young lives. I did the unthinkable and purchased He-Man and She-Ra cartoon bed linens for them, and play swords, masks, and shields (I never did buy the action figures though, I’m too practical for that). They never whacked each other with the toy weapons, they only held them high, touching tips as they’d bellow, “For the honour of Grayskull ... I ... HAVE ... THE ... POWER!!”

My children showing how they have the power.

Years passed and my children grew into wonderful young women. I owned and worked a Giclée print shop and one of the artists who used our services was a lady named Karen Grandpre. After a time we were comparing art stories and I was delighted to learn she was an animator for He-Man and She-Ra (specifically responsible for Swift Wind, She-Ra’s horse).

Animation sketch for Swift Wind by Karen (Haus) Grandpre

I was able to thank her for the good influence her work had on my children, and I eagerly questioned her about animation work and process. I learned her masterful hand also animated such notables as Uncle Sam McGoo, Robin Hood (Disney animated movie), The Flintstones, The Jetsons, Scooby Doo, Road Runner, Bugs Bunny, Yosemite Sam, Horton Hears a Who (original), Wonder Woman, Peanuts, Tarzan, Lone Ranger, Zorro, Tom & Jerry, Mighty Mouse, Fritz the Cat, The Archie’s, Fat Albert, and much more. She worked with three of the world’s top animation studios: Walt Disney, Hanna-Barbera, and Filmation. Karen’s credit name is Karen Haus and she is one of the finest draftsmen I know. She can draw a horse from any angle without reference or animal at hand. She knows design and form so well it’s no different than taking a breath. When my grown children heard that I had met that lady who brought She-Ra and He-Man to life they begged that I introduce them. The girls dug out their old pillow-cases and asked Karen to autograph the fading cotton images.  They were still in awe of the lady who made the magic they enjoyed as children.

Working out details of Swift Wind, a flying unicorn horse.
Studio sketch by Karen (Haus) Grandpre

This past week She-Ra turned 25 years old. I found myself thinking about progress ... those microwaves, cell phones, internet, and personal computers ... How they have changed our lives. I also thought a lot about art and creation, heroes and raising children, responsibility and good civic behavior. He-Man and She-Ra were attacked back in the day because they represented a shift in the state of commerce. They were accused of marketing to children simply because a toy came first and the parents couldn’t say no.

A story board for Skeletor.  All story lines were well worked through before the animators took to their tasks and created the cartoons so many children loved. 

I disagreed about the badness of the cartoon back then because I saw that it built it’s own personalities and situations, and those were centered on a good moral base that encouraged children to be the best people they could be. That aspect of this story was very good. The bad aspect was the parents who spoiled the child and paid a thousand dollars for a stupid Cabbage Patch doll ... the ones who let progress babysit while not teaching the wisdom of moderation and good sense. I called  Karen and asked if I could spend a little time with her, hoping to capture a sense of who she is for the tale I wanted to tell about animation. We spent a couple of afternoons talking and going through old sketches and drawings. I asked what she thought about modern animation and she quickly and pointedly stated they are “retarded cartoons with too much agenda” ... from her perspective, progress is destroying her craft ... Progress.

So many episodes ended with Skeletor feeling down in the dumps about the turn of events. 

The story of how He-Man ended sums up the fate of good animation better than I ever could.  He-Man was a victim of his own success because once corporate manufacturers understood his ascendency came about through the merchandising of toy-based cartoons, greed took over and everyone seized the opportunity to profit from an out of control parental base that could not satisfy their whiny children without giving the brats whatever they wanted. Within two years the syndicated cartoon market was saturated and programs began to hopelessly fail while newer and flashier things where constantly introduced. He-Man was one of those casualties.

Filmation sold it’s animation studio to a French cosmetic company, L'Oreal. This cosmetic firm wasn’t interested in actually doing any new animation, they simply wanted the European rights to past-productions. In one day L’Oreal cut off Filmation’s future by firing the entire production staff. On a Friday afternoon all of the artists were told to put down their pencils and leave. The doors were closed and production was silenced on February 3, 1989. Two hundred and thirty employees (mostly animators) were cast out without warning and the end of an era was at hand.

This animation sequence is for Bo's (She-Ra's friend) horse running.
Karen (Haus) Grandpre was the master horse animator for many years.

When I think of progress, I often think of greed. He-Man or She-Ra would have done a moral of the story about this, if they were only given the chance. Instead, films like Avitar neglect traditional production processes and let computers build a sterilized and perfect world where the agenda rules supreme. Ironically, this old gal thinks a big-budget CGI movie can't stand in comparison to the low-budget animated TV series which spawned it all.  Now that is something worth thinking about.

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*The drawings included in this blog have never been shown public before. They are but a very few of the collection that Karen keeps at her home today. I had the great privilege of scanning nearly 100 of them, as well as enjoying seeing hundreds more when I recently spent a day with Karen. Not only He-Man and She-Ra sketches are there, but so were Fat Albert, Daffy Duck, Charlie the Tuna, The Archies, and more horse sketches than I thought possible for one artist ... the list goes on and on. Honestly, a good animator is truly a champion draftsman. Thank you Karen, for sharing your creations with me, and allowing me to post a few for my friends who enjoy this blog and good creativity. You are simply the best.

The Arabian horse was the breed for Swift Wind. Karen's knowledge of horse anatomy is very evident in her study works for full blown animation.

On the left, He-Man is running into the frame - his figure is  more refined than the  next entry animation (right), which is shown in an early stage of working out details.

I remember this episode!  Vines just about took He-Man out!

But he kept on struggling ....

and struggling.

Busting a Gut - part IV

Laughing ––

• Part I, absurd. 
• Part II, utterly senseless. 
• Part III, slapstick silly.
• Part IV, satire.

Satire is a rather dangerous sort of comedy. Frankly, it’s intent is to shame individuals, or society itself, into improving by using constructive social criticism through wit. The weapon of wit is truly a subjective thing and sometimes it carries a wallop quite similar to the bite of dog; rather than the more noble nibble of a sheep. In that case satire more closely resembles sarcasm and that kind of humour is generally down right mean.

I do believe Americans love satire ... at least those of my generation. I never thought much about it growing up but, now that I’m older and a bit more reflective, I understand the difference between Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In and the original Saturday Night Live. For sure, good satire will offer lighthearted humour full of irony or parody, and follow that up with a serious after-taste. In simpler terms; make people laugh, and then encourage them think.

When I began creating the Wilderlife Series I intended to use satire to make fun of both the pompous art world as well as the smarter than me biologist types. That in itself was very easy to do, yet once my family and I began really exploring the imagination we sometimes went a bit farther than I ever planned. A great example is the two shrew-type critters. I believe it was Goldie who began the idea that we should create opposing cultures similar to the relationship shared between England and France. (Put this in historic context, if you will ... over the centuries those nations across the pond have been contentious neighbours who often sound like the Bickersons. What fun to play with that idea!)

Take a read and see if you get what I mean:

COMMON NAME: Great Horned Shrew

Species: Tres hornicus rodenteon. Other names include little big horn, half pint, wee body, shrewy wooy, and knuckle buster. The great horned shrew can be confused with it’s close relative, the grey horned shrew.

General facts: Great horned shrews are hyperactive omnivores that grow 1 and a half to 2 inches long from butt to nose and weigh between 5 and 7 ounces. They feed primarily on grass seeds, but also eat other things such as ear mites, noseeums, fly larvae, and rabbit. They are surprisingly successful pack hunters that can cleverly take down a 10 pound mammal. With an excellent sense of smell and hearing, the scout-rodent identifies potential prey and communicates direction to his fellow pack members using teeny squeaks and whisker wiggles. The pack will then position itself around the target and charge with a mighty lunge. In the midst of the frenzied activity, few who fall pray to a shrew-trap can escape.  Using razor sharp teeth and jaw pressure of 87 pounds, a large rabbit will be dismembered in less than 20 minutes. Contrary to popular belief, their horns are not used when hunting. Like dahl sheep, their head adorns are used when fighting for mates, communication, and back scratching.

STATISTICS: Great horned shrew live in colonies that range from 2,200 to 5,702 animals. They have a feudal social structure that is comparable to 12th century France. Basically, it is many mini-kingdoms controlled by one. The highest level of their society does not have to hunt at all. Serf hunters of the pack give most of their catch to the vassals, who give some of that catch to the lords, who in turn contributes a little bit more to the hierarchy’s cache. Generally speaking, great horned shrew have a snooty disposition, again relating to 12th century France. They have an unusual sense of family structure, appearing to be big on courtship and giving little regard to monogamy. It is difficult to tell the genders apart and statistical information on the animal count is nothing more than mere speculation. Their greatest enemy is the grey horned shrew that resides just across the river.

HABITAT: North America and parts of Canada. Resides just about anywhere it can get away with.  Most sightings have occurred in Quebec and the interior of Alaska. It is rumored that they were once abundant in Louisiana, most specifically in and around New Orleans.

** Morning Glory

    Gouache on Bristol Board

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COMMON NAME: Grey Horned Shrew

Species: Nutralous hornicus rodenteon. Other names include english shrew, quarter pint, ye body, winston, and knobby nibbler. The grey horned shrew can be confused with it’s close relative, the great horned shrew.

General facts: Grey horned shrews are lethargic omnivores that grow 2 to 1 and a half inches long from butt to nose and weigh between 7 and 5 ounces. They feed primarily on berries, oysters, and other aphrodisiacs,  but also eat other things such as fleas, wild lettuce, green m&ms, and rabbit. They are surprisingly successful scavengers that can cleverly take food from their enemies. With an excellent sense of smell and hearing, they can detect the enemy approaching and run like the wind. The pack hunts only at night, taking full advantage of slumbering neighbours’ unguarded caches. During day hours this shrew never strays far from it’s home and behaves like simple gatherers searching for berries and other pleasurable things. Grey horned shrew are never seen alone and are easily identified by their never ending attentiveness to their mate. They are very affectionate creatures, constantly petting, doting, and caring for other members of their clan.

STATISTICS: Grey horned shrew live in colonies that range from 5,702 to 2,204 animals. They have a monarchy social structure that is comparable to 12th century England. Basically, it is huge kingdom controlled by one. The highest level of their society does not have to hunt at all, for it is adored by every member of the group who will gladly give all they own to the apparent lordship of them all. Generally speaking, grey horned shrew have a refined disposition, again relating to 12th century England. They have a traditional sense of family structure, appearing to be big on monogamy and giving little regard to courtship. All their nests are built near by the wildflower known as Forget Me Not. It is speculated that the scent of the blooms perform a major function during the mating season. Perhaps it is an aphrodisiac, or maybe it just looks pretty. The grey horned shrew’s major enemy is the great horned shrew, that resides just across the river.

HABITAT: North America and parts of New England. Resides, or has resided, in just about every region of the world. Most sightings have occurred in Victoria, on Vancouver Island, British Columbia, and in smattered locations throughout South Central Alaska. It is rumored that they were once abundant in Massachusetts, most specifically in and around Boston. Evidently, there still seems to be a thriving colony on the Faulken Islands.

** Procreation Congregation

    Gouache on Bristol Board

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Busting a Gut - part III

Laughing –– Part I, absurd.
                          Part II, utterly senseless.
                          Part III, slapstick silly.

Slapstick comedy is a shameless sort of humour that is considered lowbrow and better suited for children. As silly as it is, do you know what is the funniest thing about it? Answer: The pleasure of slapstick is universally shared among pretty much everybody I’ve talked with regarding humour ... which means nothing more than we all laugh at it.

The basis for this kind of joke is pain ... you know, people falling down, smacking into a brick wall, knocked in the shin with a bat, a potted plant falls on your head, a tumble down the stairs, a frying pan upside the head, or a slip on a banana peel and land on your butt kind of thing. I don’t know what it is exactly, but for some reason that sort of stuff just makes us laugh and laugh. We even laugh at ourselves when we are the victim of a smack or a whack or a trip, go figure.

Interestingly, and this is something I say in my own defense all the time, laughing IS a natural pain killer. I prefer to think that when I laugh at the bozo who fell down, I am actually expressing thoughtful support by giggling because I know laughter is also contagious and, like it or not, the boinked one will ease his own pain by laughing right along with me. I am grateful for the scientific study that gave me this excuse, and I’m sticking to it.

The term ‘slapstick’ actually describes a common stage prop used during the vaudevillian era and was, litreally, a piece of wood that had been split on the long side - like a sword with a cut all the way down the blade on the thin edge. When one guy whacked a second guy with the stick, the two pieces of wood slapped against each other and the impact sound was emphasized by the wood hitting against itself. What sounded like a wicked hit was actually rather harmless and pain free. But, the audience’s perception was audible inflicted pain and they roared at the idea of that.

Vaudeville was not the first to implement such a theatrical prop; it was just the most notable generation where that style of comedy was explored extensively and, because of technical advances during that age, the ‘golden era’ of black and white silent movies spread this style of comedy far and wide. Wacky characters flash in our minds whenever we hear their name: Charlie Chaplin, Laurel and Hardy, the Keystone Kops, and the Three Stooges. If we dug for the root of this goof-ball practice (pain via stick whacking as humour), we’d find a slapstick sort of prop at least somewhat present in Ancient Greece, Rome, even in the Middle Ages where rejuvenation of theater in church liturgical dramas had actors beating the devil right off the stage. Renaissance carried it forward with Shakespeare incorporating many chase scenes and beatings into his comedies. It seems like the halarity of pain and suffering is a primitive emotion that goes right to the bone of who we are, and it’s been with us since the beginning of recorded time. I imagine and believe, actually, that cave men whacked each other with a club just to hear the other clan members gawfaw at the pain ... I wish that were etched or painted onto a cave wall so my point would be proven without a doubt.

It has always been a big hit for children, too. Animated cartoons such as Tom and Jerry and Looney Tunes taught us all about how funny it was to trip a friend, then point and laugh as they lay on the ground crying. I got in trouble for doing that a lot as a kid. It took me a while to comprehend that the fun of the joke was the illusion of the thing and not the real hitting, and encouraging a friend to learn a stunt roll or a hollywood smack saved at least one of us from a trip to the principal’s office ... because his stick was not a slapstick and that bona fide butt-whacker hurt like hell. The point here is, no matter how lowbrow or simpleton one makes this sort of humour out to be, truth is it kept us kids playing hard while honing our minds to be sharp as a tack.

And with that, here is the wilderlife critter that honours the slapstick. Sit back on your whoopie cushion and enjoy:

COMMON NAME: Chipundale

Species: Jesterian smartassicus rodentian. Other names include tree clown, lil’ buger, chuck monk, Ivan and the punk. The chipundale  can be confused with it’s less humorous cousin, the chipmunk.

General facts: Chipundales are daylight omnivores that grow 4 to 7 inches long, including the bushy tail, and weigh between 2 and 15 pounds. They feed primarily on bird legs and nuts, but also eat other creatures such as bunnies, crickets, ants, locus, and butterflies. Highly developed senses of humour and irony allow this excellent tree climbing nut to annoy other members of its clan. It’s greatest advantage is keeping its predators amused long enough for the chipundale to get away. A forest prankster, it is not unusual to see one sneak up behind another and push him off a limb, or simply say ‘boo’  and then laugh as the unsuspecting butt-of-the-joke jumps with a start.  Apparently, the greatest prize of all is to actually force a competitor to fall to the forest floor.  The echoing cackle of their laugher can be heard on any given day. It sounds like ‘yuck, yuck, yuck’ (swallow your tongue when you try this).

STATISTICS: Chipundales live in dens called funhouses. Their homes are full of booby-traps that keep competing critters from stealing stored grub. Traps include, but are not limited to: false floors, stairs that turn into slides, doors that lead nowhere, and trick mirrors. It is unknown where the mirrors come from, however, they do say ‘objects are closer than they appear’ along the bottom edge. They have dribble glasses, flowers that squirt water, and whoopie cushions. Palm buzzers stopped being used weeks ago, and these forest rodents do seem to be fond of fake lottery tickets. Migrating along with the circus, these critters love using discarded clown wigs as bedding and furniture stuffing.  Their natural enemy is the paper cup. They often get their head stuck inside and the other chipundales laugh and laugh, seemingly too amused to help the critter out of his bind. Their mating habits are unknown ... we assume they are humorous.  For some unexplainable reason, our view of them always fades to black before the big finale. We do know they have litters, or clutches, of up to 89 off-spring, often including siamese twins.

HABITAT: North America and surrounding regions.  Resides along the normal migratory trails of reputable, or not so reputable circus troops. When over populated, they occasionally frequent county fairs and political rallies. As strange as it may sound, most sightings are witnessed by fishermen from Alabama.  Go figure.

Busting a Gut - part II

Laughing –– Part I was absurd. Part II is utterly senseless.


When you really think about what makes a person laugh you may come to realize that it’s not just a ‘joke’ that does it. Many things play a roll and I am one who has come to believe that the laugh should be associated with far more than simple merriment. There is no doubt that laughing feels good (unless you do it so much that your side feels like it’s splitting and your cheeks are about to burst), but is that all there is to it? Sigmund Freud wrote a general explanation regarding laughter that he called the Relief Theory, in which he summarized that laughter releases tension and psychic energy. Considering this, the theory explains why busting a gut can be a coping mechanism for any person who is upset, angry, or even sad. But, I’ll not delve too deeply into that part of the psychology of the laugh right now .... today we need to remain utterly senseless - or, in plainer words, insane. We’ll focus on the idea that when confronted with an inconsistency with reality any person can bring a successful solution by solving a cognitive riddle in a satisfactory way, and most of the time solving the riddle is what brings laughter and a sense of understanding.

There is a point that I understand well and attempt to conform my silly creations to, and that is a basic law of comedy which is called exactness. Exactness will never allow the audience to be confused because, if they are, they will never laugh nor even begin to understand the joke. Before I introduce you to the second Wilderlife critter, I will first illustrate a complete humour-communication-failure with one of my insane painted jokes. I call this cartoon Joe and the Artist, and it was created after I read a small newspaper article about a copyright lawsuit involving Philip Morris and Billy Coulton, the artist who created Joe Camel.

I put a lot of thought into this gag of a painting ... drug an old firewood chunk and some dried-up field grass into our living room; then bribed my husband to dress in a tank top, tuck his blue jeans into his motor-biking boots, then hold still as he knelt before and stretched his neck across the stump as though he were laid out for a chop. The insane joke here is that an artist, which (in a sense) is god-like, intends to violently snuff the life out of his own creation. The joke today does not work because the average viewer does not possess a full accounting of the real-life courtroom drama that happened nearly 20 years ago; and, since the time of my cartoon’s creation smoking has become public enemy number one. What was a play about copyrights and monetary gain from a creator’s tangible form of expression has turned into a nasty public statement about the dangers of smoking. That is an unfortunate turn of events for my cartoon and these days more people turn away in disgust rather than try to unravel the cognitive puzzle that is my image of Joe and the Artist ... the very European artist who felt quite cheated by the giant American company named Philip Morris (Joe was born in Europe in 1974 and was originally created to be a mascot for a French Advertising company. The artist sold him, and all his copyrights, for fifty bucks ... the fool).

What was re-confirmed most from this cartoon is that not every amusing thought has a long shelf-life. Social condition and controversy shift on a whim and what is funny one day may be offensive the next. Although, I have to say Joe and the Artist does bring me sick pleasure these days and I often chuckle in my own sadistic way ... when I’m watching someone uncomfortably spying this thing while they try to find a polite way to say it really sucks. We’ll talk about that sort of humour in a later post.

For now, my Wilderlife Series has proven to be resolved inconsistency for most people viewing it - even an image as insane as the creature we call the Lurky. This painting proves how the theory works in the case of visual humor. The joke is the insanity of a turkey and lizard combined and viewers will automatically try to understand what this picture is supposed to say, or doesn’t say, or implies. Thanks to movies like Jurassic Park and the vicious critter called velociraptor, the Lurky is not too far removed for comfort. I can not tell you how many times I’ve heard people explain the painting to me that way. Surprisingly, I’ve never heard the words, “that’s just wrong” associated with this piece.

COMMON NAME: Emerald Lurky

Species: Voloptar turkilearian rapteus.  Other names include glen, bob, o’brian green socks, and mayflower. The lurky can be confused with descendants of the velociraptor.

General facts: Lurkys are diurnal omnivorish creatures that grow 1 and a half to 3 feet tall and weigh between 40 and 60 pounds. With a wing span of just three inches short of five feet, they are capable of hitting 60 mph, or a tree, provided they can get off the ground. They feed exclusively on pansies and rabbits, but have been rumored to eat dandelions and slugs during lean seasons. Highly developed senses of touch and go allow excellent ariel dynamics that confuses and stuns its prey. Hunting only during the hours between 1pm and 3pm, Lurkys are seldom seen due to the siesta rituals of the Oasis regions in New Mexico and limited areas in Nevada. The main enemies of the Lurky are humans because they discovered the beast tastes a lot like chicken, and their feathers are highly coveted by show girls in Las Vegas and ritualistic Miatec priests.

STATISTICS: As ground nesters, the Lurky commands much space to spread their wings and protect their young. Wings are used as umbrellas, blankets, cozies, and sunscreen. Occasionally, young chicks can be seen atop the parent’s unfolded wings practicing their touch and go proficiencies. The average clutch is 2.3 eggs that are about 6 inches in diameter. They are highly prized in logging camps and back-woods resorts. The birds reach maturity at pubirdy, which is 6 weeks after they discharge their shells, and will quickly find a mate and remain monogamous throughout their very long lives. In the wild, Lurkys live an average of 27 and half years. They have never been domesticated because when they are separated from their mate they will die of a broken heart. Or some such.

HABITAT: North America and surrounding regions. Resides mainly in forest glens along the edge of botanical gardens. Most sightings have occurred in nooks and crannies in the Oasis regions, or in a drunken state, though a few have been seen partially sober. It is strongly advised you never look up during the hours of 1pm to 3pm for reasons good taste will not allow us explain. Also, avoid the fields beside the glens during those same hours. A 60 pound bird hitting 60 mph hour can command overwhelming damage should it hit you.

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** Forest Glen
    Gouache on Bristol Board

When I recall the pleasure of making images and words for this series, Forest Glen holds one of the fondest moments for me. Me, Chris, and Goldie sat around late night at our print shop and simply laughed until we cried, each of us adding another outrageous trait or action to give our imaginary raptor bird. My family is so very funny and once we get started the concept of contagious laughter holds true. For me, that is one of the best things in life.

I chose to combine a turkey and lizard simply because I wanted to make the most outrageous combination of animals possible, and discover if I could make it even somewhat believable. Apparently I pulled it off.

Busting a Gut - part I

Laughing –– What a funny little thing that is. It’s a special, primitive, and universal language that can transcend all other barriers between human beings. Every culture laughs. Even some animals laugh. A good laugh is equivalent to a ten minute workout on a rowing machine. Some people laugh really loud and hard, others are rather quiet, while a few will only snort now and again. One thing is certain ... I love a good laugh.

I am on a mission for the next month or so to try to deeply understand the laugh. I want to know what makes us do it ... and whether or not I can learn to somewhat control it (either my own laughter, or others’). There are many reasons for the gawfaw and I’m going to begin with a thing I understand well.

The absurd.

Most of the time I am a wildlife painter and I’ve found over the years that most artists, patrons, and supporters take their jobs far too seriously. Granted, using the skill to help animals in rehabilitation centers, or educate city dwellers about life in the wild, is all a good thing. But, once in a while, we really need to let go of the seriousness. I had somebody tell me one time, when looking at my drawing of a duck, that I had the incorrect number of feathers at the base of the neck and I really ought to make gunk like that correct. Well, damn it man! I’m not generally a feather counter. I don’t ever want to be a feather counter. I just want to paint my pictures.

So, that’s what I did for years until, some time ago, I was one of those ‘fortunate’ painters who was ‘discovered’ by an international fine art print publisher. It was, I was told, every wildlife painter’s dream so I signed the contract with high hopes of building a reputation as one of the chosen best of the best. Funny thing (and not funny in a way that makes one laugh, funny, as in – ironic), my new publisher wanted me to be something I was not.  Robert Bateman. Carl Brenders. John Seerey-Lester. He sent tear-sheets and instructed me to copy subject and style. I didn’t take that sort of direction well and my five year contract was in jeopardy before this horse ever shot out of the gate.

What did I do? Since every wildlife painting I created during the life of the contract was to be first considered by the publisher, I opted to find a new sort of creation – and I went all out. My family and I busted our guts while we made up the most absurd critters, including scientific data, as well as a new public image for myself. I began with an anonyomous bio, which accompanied a ridiculous photo where I tried to sport a mullet-like hair-do with style.  I will not bore you with the long, full version but will, instead, just pull a couple of paragraphs to illustrate my pompous point:

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Livvy - A Different Treasure of Another Kind

Like many wildlife painters in America, Livvy has come to her craft through an emotional and intimate familiarity with our natural surroundings. She was raised in the nearly uninhabited surroundings of Nikiski, Alaska and responded more directly than the average person to the fundamental appeal of the wild.  Unlike most sourdoughs, however, she expressed a natural aptitude for drawing and her relentless wanderings on paper weaved the larger story of her vicarious journeys. Though she continues to paint mainly wildlife subjects, the collection of paintings gathered for this volume reflect an extravaganza of sorts; a focus that is a little less on the typical, and a little more on nature as seen through the lens of the mind. Primary emphasis is placed on Livvy’s rich messages relating to her youthful foreground of local habitat that may be, perhaps, closer to her heart than the heritage of any other part of the world.

Today Livvy, who now lives in the sort of southern part of the Pacific Northwest, is a semi-public figure and the recipient of many compliments and accolades. She is regarded by many as a premier nature artist and fervent conservationist.  For others, she remains an enigma. However she is observed, her prime directive for her aesthetic compositions shall possibly serve as an inspiration to provide opportunity to explore more fully the complex beauty and sublimity of our own natural world. It is a mission she accepts with pleasure, vowing to always stay true to her brush above all else, for the beauty, peace, and truth found there have no equal.

Livvy says that her art has very much to do with perceptibility, which forms the basis for many beautiful wildlife paintings.  “It is hard to see an animal in the wild,” she explains, “Cuz they always run away.” Often, the only chance to get close is to postulate the harmonies of colour and texture, and then paint that and share the experience of being within the intimate world of the animals. As an artist, it’s important to take advantage of the creator’s biggest advantage and render the scene with such reality that the impossible becomes possible.

No truer words are spoken for Livvy, for her infinite patience and delight in caressing her brushes against the Bristol, or just caressing her brushes, give us all a glimpse into her moments in paradise. Most surely, if she thought more detail would make her work more beautiful, she would strive to visually articulate more detail.  In a sense, perfectionism is her disease and the consummate venue to allegorize her reverence for the wild and infinite beauty of nature and fantastical things within her.

                                                                                  –– Anonymous

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My publisher blanched when he read my pompusly verbose new bio ... and I’m saving you an abundance of annoyance by only posting half of it here today. Still, as with him, I’m sharing with the bio a collection of twelve paintings which brought my point home. I will post them over the coming weeks, one by one, along with the 'scientific' data and story behind how it came to be.  Back in 1997 I was pained by the thought that for five long years I’d have to leave my natural inclinations behind and avoid painting straight up wildlife. Fortunately, I found a way to use humour to lighten my load. The beautiful thing about humour is ... laughter is a natural pain killer, and that’s especially true when one is dealing with a pain in your butt.

COMMON NAME: Polarcam

Species: Arcto humpteus camealious.  Other names include spitter, double do, snot rocket, magnum, and polar rover.  The polarcam can be confused with the middle eastern desert dog.

General facts: Polarcams are arctic carnivores that grow 8 to 12 feet tall (including the humps) and can weigh up to 1380 pounds. They feed primarily on arctic hare, but also eat other creatures such as ice worms, arctic fox, seal, and the mighty beluga whale. Their greatest and most feared weapon is their projectiling spit-balls. Whether hunting or defending themselves, they can quickly work up a mouth full of saliva and spit with remarkable accuracy. The subzero temperatures of the arctic region almost instantly freezes the warm mouth fluids and the resulting flying balls can range from 1 to 4 inches in diameter, weighing up to 3 pounds each. With an amazing target accuracy of 98.7 percent at 25 yards, the polarcam fears very little and never tolerates anything found near his home range. The distinctive double humps act as a food cache that holds devoured meats and allows the beast to live up to three months between meals. It is speculated that arctic penguins once shared the range of the polarcam, but found themselves defenseless against this large and aggressive animal. They can run nearly 53 mph hour and may swim up to 4 miles in ice laden waters.

STATISTICS: Polarcams sleep standing and have no recorded social order at all.  Always solitary, it is unknown how they reproduce or develop. No female has ever been seen and it is speculated that they live in a harem type situation in some sort of ice cave, perhaps being tended to by a dominant male, or servant of the dominant male. In one reporting, a secret  mission brought a researcher within 25 yards of a large male that was frolicking in apparent play on a field of drifts. The 8.3 minutes of satellite feed showed a delightful animal at ease. Unfortunately, the beast detected the human and much desired analyzation of the spit ball phenomenon ensued. The scientist has not been heard from since.

HABITAT: North American Arctic and surrounding regions. Resides mainly on the arctic coastal plain and most sightings have occurred around and about the Point Barrow area. It is strongly advised to never approach this animal. It is orally recorded that 13 humans have been killed by the polarcam and wounds inflected on survivors appear quite similar to a gunshot wound from a 357 magnum pistol.

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** Sunrise on the Arctic Coastal Plain
     Gouache on Bristol Board

In 1977, at age 16, I was allowed to visit the Arctic Coastal Plain at Point Barrow. One of my fondest possessions is the certificate that proves I crossed the Arctic Circle during a time when non-oil-industry citizens were not permitted. What impressed me most was the frigid cold in July and the truth of the midnight sun. The place was absolutely desolate. I felt so tall in a land without mountains or trees, standing on frozen ground and spying the curvature of the earth from my five foot five viewpoint. No plant grows over six inches tall there. It is a frozen desert, really. I wasn’t allowed to explore and did not find any animal life  at all. I could not get over the idea of a frozen desert, though, and imagined the perfect animal had I only been permitted to go find it. When creating the crazy wilderlife in 1997, I dug up the memory of that place and included a Polarcam for fun. It is true. I don’t like to paint what I have not seen, yet sometimes my mind supplies pictures far  too fantastic for my own good. I can’t help it.  I am Alaskan.

Ghosts of Artist Past

Sometimes I read movie reviews and wonder how a person gets a job like that. How can they be paid to put words to paper that bash creative ones, or pump-up others to an insane degree? More importantly, why is it that a movie’s success depends on the critics at all? Couldn’t a great movie withstand the hoopla of critic bashing and still perform well? Unfortunately, most of the time they don’t, especially if that movie was not produced in Hollywood. I’m going to introduce to you what I think is a great movie that critics have soundly trashed. There will be some spoilers in here, but knowing parts of the story will not ruin the movie for you. This film is fiction based on truth and I think the human behavior aspect of it is simply priceless.

Goya’s Ghosts (2006) has several elements that made it attractive for me.  First positive element: It is a story told from an artist’s point of view and that’s a natural interest for a mind like mine. I love art … particularly art history.  Granted, Goya is not one of my favorites – I find most of his work repulsive and dark. But, why wouldn’t it be? He lived through the Spanish Inquisition and saw things few humans could stomach, so of course his paintings colourfully depict brutality and nightmarish visions.

Francisco Goya is fascinating in the sense that he is regarded as both the last of the Old Masters and the first of the moderns. He was a painter of royalty on the one hand, and a macabre printmaker on the other, whose prints created images depicting, what he called, “...the innumerable foibles and follies to be found in any civilized society, and from the common prejudices and deceitful practices which custom, ignorance, or self-interest have made usual.”  They were very dark visions.

The movie does a fabulous job showing the artist working at his craft ... it is played so naturally that you don’t realize what you are seeing. Printmaking, for example, is shown step by step with process explained through doing. The same holds true for oil painting and sketching. As an artist, I appreciate a certain ‘realness’ when art production is shown and I like to understand how things are made. Goya would have painted just as it was played for the movie – it’s a very traditional process that has nothing to do with the modern directive of inner visions or personal emotions. It is always delightful to watch an artist properly work in the context of actual historic processes.

Second positive element: The movie was directed by Milos Forman. A few of my all time favorites where directed by this man and his sense of visual interests and story-thread certainly appeal to me … One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest. The People vs. Larry Flynt (a surprisingly good movie). Man in the Moon. Amadeus … Every one of these is a psychological study of human condition and reaction. I did not doubt that Goya’s Ghosts would deliver in that respect as well.

After a few Milos Forman movies I found myself wondering what it was that drove him to concentrate so intently on the psyche of an individual human mind under stressful conditions, and how it relates to others’ minds as they weave and interact through life. Most notable in his history is the truth that his parents died in a concentration camp under Hitler’s regime. Could that be his driving force? Perhaps. Certainly, I’ve never seen another who could so effectively develop a stressed character like Milos can – a character that is intensely portrayed by the subtlest of gestures, the nuances of body language, the inflection of vocal tone. I do not understand how he draws this quality from actors, he just certainly and consistently does it.

Third positive element: The movie was produced and filmed in Spain, not a Hollywood production. Hollywood can tire me sometimes, with their fast paced and visually intense productions – especially with epic historical dramas. I do enjoy costumes and panoramic sets, though sometimes those can overwhelm the story. This tale was about an era that was grungy, harsh, yet beautiful. Having Spaniards tell  me about it would add a bit of authenticity, and I liked the thought of that. It could feel grand without trying so hard and every detail in the backdrop could be just right. I was eager to experience Spain.

Forth positive element: Critics absolutely hated it.  I think it is one of the most dissed films I’ve ever read about in reviews (right up there with Amelia). None complained about the acting, nor the costumes and sets, in fact they liked that stuff. They just expected more and complained that it was undercooked. I don’t know what that means.

Here’s the truth about this film. It’s more accurate, historically, than most any film out there. There were only two glaring errors that I could see: One, the film begins in 1792 with the inquisition examining the “Los Caprichos” etchings. Goya did not create those until 1797. Two, when Goya unveiled the unflattering portrait of Queen Maria Louisa she was deeply offended and huffed out of the room. In reality, she loved the painting so much that she promoted Goya to first court painter. Both of those twists on reality where done to direct the story certain ways and I got through them without complaint. This story wasn’t a biography of Goya’s life and career. It was a study in human behavior and it involves three characters that are figuring out how to survive a time of extreme chaos and turmoil.

Visually, everything worked. Natalie Portman was cast as Ines after Milos Forman recognized her likeness to the girl in Goya’s painting “Milkmaid of Bordeaux”. She played a wealthy merchant’s teenage daughter whose portrait was painted by Goya, and who also sat for him as a model for angels in public murals and such. Portman does her part so well one could say she actually plays three roles in the film … pre-Inquisition Ines, post-Inquisition Ines, as well as her grown daughter, Alicia. There is a certain madness that Milos seems to appreciate and showcase, and Portman naturally provides that element to the film. She does hold a bachelor’s degree in psychology (Harvard) so I suppose her mental probing of the character would be the expected thing for her to do. She does seem to delight in the insanity of it all. There are times when you watch and think, man, the girl is completely mad and moments later she comes across sharp and clear, very aware of what is happening in her world. She sort of fades in and out of reality as the story moves along, in a not so obvious way. It’s brilliantly played and rather charming, in a weird kind of way. I ended the film feeling empathetic for the Ines, and loving her for all her madness. It’s funny … I reflected Goya in respect to the girl and found myself thinking about her for days after I watched the movie.

As for Goya, Stellan Skarsgrd looks very much like the painter. What I enjoyed about him was the complete normalcy of the man, both in appearance and in action. He was simply a painter who networked and searched for whatever commissions he could find. He was not a handsome and dashing Spaniard (as Hollywood probably would have cast him), just an average looking fellow who finagled himself through the chaos. He was portrayed as decency incarnated, which is everything I imagined Goya to be.

The third arm of the triad of characters is Lorenzo, played by Javir Baldem. Lorenzo is a person that is easily hard to take, yet as his character developed I began to understand his motives, and I did wrap myself around his persona before the movie was through. I liked Baldem in this role … a lot. He has a nice perspective on his job as an actor, once saying, “I truly believe that what I would like to portray on-screen are human beings, and human beings usually are not as handsome as movie stars.” Again, it’s all about personality studies and this movie was perfectly cast. Just watch the transformation of Lorenzo, from the opening scene to the last ... it is an astonishing journey of a man searching for conscience of faith.

The historical setting for this movie is huge. We experience the rebirth of the Spanish Inquisition, then turmoil at the end of Catholic rule as Napolian’s army invades and conquers Spain, and finally England barrels in and frees the Spanish from French occupation, and the liberated ones bring back Catholic rule in the end. What a waste through war, is what we see, and all things that turn around come around again. Goya’s etchings, which are shown throughout the movie, reflect things he witnessed – both the brutality of war and life in 18th century Spain. What Goya drew and painted is shown on film and whether you realize it or not, his eyes directed Forman in respect to set, just as Forman’s mind directed the psychology of it all. And, throughout that process, the three primary characters are continually finding each other’s orbit as we walk through this truly disturbing part of history.

I wonder what critics are thinking sometimes. Are they more concerned about a movie being enlightening, or cutting-edge, or faster or brighter or louder or more animated than the last one, or … what? What does under-cooked mean, anyway? The movie is almost there? It’s not well exicuted? One theme I caught through all the reviews I read was that every one of them missed the entire point of the film.  This is NOT about Goya or his muse. The title even states that clearly. It’s about ghosts. Not Goya’s ghost.  Goya’s ghosts ... more than one haunting person that belonged to the man. It’s not a history lesson about the ups and downs of the Spanish Inquisition, either, or foriegn occupation or political upheaval at all. A ghost is not events or time or space or subject matter. It’s a haunting person. More than one is haunting people. … and haunting generally indicates a troubled soul ... unable to rest.

When watching a movie like this, which is really a movie about pshychological evaluation/penetration, I find myelf examining things like being ‘put to the question’. What would I do should that have been me? Whould I say I love pork after all, or that my mother was a monkey? Or would I hold faith so dear that I’d suffer the pain? I must ponder piety, morality, civic duty, and basic survival to find that answer. And even then, I know I would have to live it … to feel the pain for the truth of it all is more than I can imagine.

Grasping this concept is not hard. Goya was an artist who chronicled a time. His paintings and drawings share with us what touched his heart through eyes that saw things few ever see. His ghosts are with us today – on his canvases.  He gave us souls who struggled and suffered and most did not survive. His people. His country. Ines could easily represent his homeland as a victim who never gave up. Lorenzo would be the heart of the country that forever searched for conscience. And Goya is the steady and decent soul.

You must look at this movie from an artist's eye and it will make more sense than any critic can imagine.

A Lesson in History - Rembrandt

From time to time I have an urge to share some truths I've learned over the years. This is one of those posts, which contains adapted excerpts from my book Of Fur & Feathers - An Artist Passing Through

This story is about Rembrandt Harmenszoon van Rijn (July 15, 1606 – Oct. 4, 1669). Rembrandt was a Dutch painter who is generally considered one of the greatest painters and printmakers in European art history. His contributions to art came in a period historians call the Dutch Golden Age.

Having realized youthful success as a portrait painter, his later years were marked by personal tragedy and financial collapse. Throughout his lifetime his reputation as an artist remained high and for twenty years he taught nearly every important Dutch painter. Rembrandt's greatest creative triumphs are epitomized in his self-portraits, in which he surveyed himself without vanity and with unconditional sincerity and truth.
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When I was a very little girl I found a mentor. Rembrandt. He was the first master that I copied and when I learned to read I began to understand his history and purpose. Everything he was has everything to do with who I am as a painter today. Why?

In the beginning I had only the pencil. I could hold it and with concentration it would mimic the lines I saw on a piece of paper. Coordination was the first step and, like everything in life before the pencil, it was a doable thing with practice. Basic lines, shapes, and added values were practiced daily. I was limited to only the technique of creation by imitation until words began to enlighten the mysteries of art. Once I could read I began to study everything I could about painting, with Rembrandt consistently remaining at the center of my interest.

In all honesty, I found that Rembrandt and other masters were like gods to me. They were beings who turned simple pieces of paper or canvas into perfect dimensional worlds of beauty and drama. Their humanness didn’t become clear until I could research and dig for the truth. I had to know – what made them so great? Could their time have been so different from ours that their brilliant minds rose above and beyond what simple folk like me could achieve? What gave them such passion to learn to be the best? In all my studies I found there are links from there to here and each master is but one piece of massive puzzle. And, here is one piece to serve as an introduction to a brilliant mind:

Greatness Was Born

Rembrandt was born at a most opportune time, when his world was a newly formed country that pulsed with the fever of expansion and growth. The Netherlands had recently won an eighty-year war of independence with Spain, and Europe was beginning to recognize it as a country in its own right. The artist was born to a miller in Leiden on July 15, 1606, the ninth of ten children. He was the only van Rijn child to go to the University of Leiden (at age 14), and his training there was probably geared towards preparation for fine citizenship in Leiden – perhaps as a preacher, or civic councilman. Or, maybe he was placed in the University to avoid service in the town Militia. Rembrandt’s father had injured a hand as a town soldier, and his oldest brother had problems while in the Militia, as well. As a University student no service was required, and one received a good ration of free beer to boot!

After a short stay, Rembrandt dropped out of the University and enrolled as an apprentice in Jacob van Swanenburgh’s studio to learn the craft of picture making. No one really knows why his schooling at the University was cut short right before its finale; but I imagine he may have found ‘classical’ training boring and desired to satisfy a passion for painting. His parents  allowed and supported this direction for his life.

There are no surviving paintings from his earliest years in that studio but, surely, what he learned there were the basics every artist needed; how to grind paint, size canvases, clean brushes and palettes; and how to stroke with a brush, draw with chalk, and compose a painting; how to render drawings from live models, or make copies from early masters. Swaneburgh had spent time in Italy and surely the Italian influences began for the budding artist in this studio.

Rembrandt stayed with Swaneburgh for three years, then did a brief six months apprenticeship with Pieter Lastman, a famous master in Amsterdam. Lastman had recently returned from Italy, where he was strongly influenced by Caravaggio’s use of lights and darks (chiaroscuro), as well as works from the famous masters Leonardo, Michelangelo, and Raphael. There is no doubt that Caravaggio’s techniques, taught by Lastman, had a profound effect on  the very young artist from Leiden.

After his stay with Lastman, Rembrandt returned to his home town and appears to have opened a studio with a fellow Lastman student named Jan Lievens. In that studio, the two painters often rendered paintings of the same subject, using the same models and props, and their resulting works have been a challenge for historians in respect to attributing certain paintings to either artist. They were friends with the same goal in mind; become a better painter and find success as masters in their own right.

By 1627, Rembrandt began taking on his own students (most notably, Gerrit Dou). In 1629, the statesman Constantijn Huygens, came to the Rembrandt/Lievens studio and purchased a few paintings from each, then secured a commission for Rembrandt that began a series of Passion Paintings for the Court in Hague, which was concluded in 1646.

By the end of 1631, Lievens left for England to become a Court painter, and Rembrandt moved to the new business capital of the Netherlands – Amsterdam. There, he began an association with an art dealer named Hendrick van Uylenburg and found success as a practicing portraitist. He also met and then, in 1634, married Hendrick’s cousin, Saskia van Uylenburg.

It is easy to imagine his life to this point. He was a very young man with a driving interest in painting, and by his mid-twenties he was a sought after portrait painter with a stunning reputation. Success was not only at his fingertips, it was clinch-fisted and strongly held by an extremely confident young artist.

The training that brought him to success is an interesting point. Rembrandt got a late start in his education as an artist. Most young people at that time began at the age of eight or nine and were well advanced by the time Rembrandt apprenticed at his first studio at the age of fourteen. By nineteen he seems to have learned all that he could from Swaneburgh and Lastman and his work quickly surpassed his teachers. Still bucking the established system, he did not dream of going to Italy to learn directly from those thought to be the best. It is said that Rembrandt, when asked when he planned to visit Italy, replied that there was no need for that. All of the old masters’ work was coming to Holland and he could study what he needed right at home.

After he moved to Amsterdam, before he married Saskia, a very significant event happened that tells us much about his disposition and personality. He was commissioned by the Amsterdam Guild of Surgeons to produce a group portrait that would represent Dr. Nicolaes Tulp as the director of a human dissection. Prior to Rembrandt’s Anatomy Lesson, those sorts of paintings held a simple row of men, all looking equal in importance and rather boring. This artist took the composition to a place never before seen. He built a pyramidal setting where each person within the canvas space expresses a different emotion and purpose. Dr. Tulp is the only fellow wearing a hat, and his hands are absolutely perfect and delicate in every way. He was the leader of the group, both in reality and in this painted recording.

When looking at this Anatomy Lesson it’s easy to believe that much effort was made to create a fantastic portrait of each individual man, even the poor criminal whose body is being taken apart for the sake of scientific discovery and teaching - he lies motionless wearing his ashen skin rather naturally.

One element of the painting that is often over-looked, but fascinating none the less, is that the right arm of the corpse is too short when compared to the rest of the body. This is the only imperfection I can find when reviewing Rembrandt’s Anatomy Lesson, and modern x-rays of the arm reveal that it was originally painted as a stump without a hand, which reflects the truth of the situation. The criminal’s hand was chopped off as part of his punishment for being an armed robber, and then he was hanged. What this tells us is that Rembrandt most likely attended the actual dissection in preparation for his painting, and the missing hand was painted over the arm-stump later. Why did the painter do this? Did the surgeons wish to pretty-up the painting? Or was it Rembrandt’s decision? When one studies the work closely, from the rich flesh-tones of the living to the blueish-gray of the dead, including all the clothing and instruments and props, and the expressions of every body within the space, the conclusion has to be that it was at the direction of the surgeons.

Whoever delegated the alteration, a puzzling point still remains. Why did the artist simply make a hand on top of the stump instead of extending it from the wrist joint as it would naturally be? Rembrandt was a realist who painted the truth as he saw it, whether it was ugly or beautiful. He painted from nature, always. More than that, when he considered composition, he combined inspiration from nature with elements from those he admired most; Caravaggio and the other Italian masters. He was an intellectual artist who calculated every inch of his canvas and painted accordingly. My gut tells me that Rembrandt thought that the  painting was perfect with the stump, and the hand was simply painted because he had to do it to please the patrons, so he placed the new limb in an area that did not affect the white loin cloth of the dead, or any other space around it. It’s the only part of the piece that is not true to life.

With The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Tulp, Rembrandt believed he hit his stride and this painting was proof to the world that he was a master equal to the Italians everyone loved. He signed his forename for the first time in the upper right hand corner of the canvas. Rembrandt. In his mind, he must have believed he belonged with Leonardo, Michelangelo, Raphael, and Caravaggio, and the world needed to know him on a first name basis. The rest of Amsterdam society believed Rembrandt to be great, too, for the Anatomy Lesson was a huge success that propelled him to the status of Holland’s absolute best portrait painter. His reputation was established and he settled down into a life as a wealthy, successful man. All the self-portraits he executed during this period show the content painter loaded with confidence and faith in his future and position as a master artist.

When I first read the story of Rembrandt’s early years I became fascinated with the idea that he didn’t follow the established rule. His schooling was short and influence from his teachers limited. He took the basics, then walked away to find his own interpretation of technique, and didn’t seem to admire his contemporaries enough to follow them. Rather, he adored the work of the Renaissance masters and hungrily sought examples from them to emulate. In reality, he was combining the very new with the very old and the end result was a stunningly powerful mix that would push him to a place of high honour. Are his paintings the thing that makes high honour so? Or is it the artist himself?

After all my years of study, I have come to believe that his nature has everything to do with our respect for the painter from Leiden. And, his nature was all about process and understanding. I admire his steadfastness; his ability to pick up his brush and simply paint as he wanted to paint; his urges to explore beyond examples left by the masters before him, as well as contemporaries around him; his will to survive which allowed him to continue during times when most people would have crumbled; his tendency to buck the established system and never bow down for the sake of money; most of all, I admire his sense of self.

He dares us to look at him, with all his self-portraits. This man is an enigma who has challenged historians since before he died. His life was devoted to painting and teaching, yet he left no journals or books that speak of his processes or intent. He does not tell us how the applications came to be, or why.  Even with our scientific brilliance we cannot understand his simple act of impasto or varnishing techniques. We can only study the paintings. Those tell us he followed the general process of inventing, dead colouring, and work-up.  Everything about his paintings follow the rules set forth by the traditions of painting, as well as rules established by the art scene of his day. Yet, everything about his application has a twist. Rules are bent and subjects are a reflection of the raw world around him, not a classical ideal at all. With this in mind, one can only think that in Rembrandt’s mind process was important and good, yet the individual perspective must provide a balance of honesty in an otherwise cookie-cutter world. If I were to advise anyone who wishes to become a painter, I’d tell them to build a strong foundation of technical prowess, then search their soul for the honesty one needs to find the perfect place of self, for what is seen through those eyes can only be beautiful and good.

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