Seeing is Believing : Endless hours looking into Portraits.

With the on going ever present wonder of sight....I feel blessed to be able to lose myself in the story behind any number of superb paintings and drawings. Recently sitting in a very contemporary chair at the National Gallery here in Melbourne.......my eyes trail around the room and stop clearly at the most evocative of all the works hanging on the wall......"The Japanese Gown"...by Philip William Steer. His model is viewing herself in the mirror in a very bohemian dress coat....a kimono. The colours are so demure and she is poised and comforted by her vision of herself.....I stare at it for a good hour or so.

So much time in the drawing before the painting....all encompassing knowledge in the handling of the fabric and the folds....his eye seems fixed on the garment details and her reflection in the mirror....its a true likeness reflected...that's hard to do. Years ago I was taught by a wonderful drawing teacher..."Anita Furey"...back then the classes were six hours long and my love of drawing figures was indeed heightened by her constant suggestions and movement of her quick demonstrative hand on my work...."like this...she said"...and with her way of showing and my confidence restored.......I learnt to observe and configure from her generous nature and  her pursuit for professionalism. 

Memory of the quietness of that Studio......as Anita did her rounds and we all concentrated so hard at gaining her praise and attention. My portrait of Margo James has made me look at her face almost everyday day...usually in the mornings....I'm tempted to change things, but feel it may not be like my clear idiosyncratic memory of her.....so I don't. She phoned me to say I had captured her long drop from under her nose to her mouth......its small observations like that which make the likeness appear.

The School of Fountainbleau around 1596....shows ivory-like figures .....intimacy and a strange insight into the lives of these elegant French ladies.....painted by an anonymous French Master....its a point of cultural history than art........it projects the way they were living and sitting in what seems to be a fashionable theme........my placement with these two portraits is about taking them again....and re-placing them individually.........two distinctive rings are made.

 The beauty and poise in painting.......I see so much of......has its own resonance ......hands and positioning of the body and its gestures.....creates a soulfulness within the work.....I recall standing in front of Elizabeth the first...the Tudor portrait in the National Portrait Gallery in London.....the garment detailing alone made me feel sorrowful.......she was clad from head to toe.....pale and distant.....an extraordinary painting to see......certainly one I will always remember......those portraits are alive in that place.

Eugene Delacroix.......this portrait had me reeling with excitement.....from the first time I saw it.....I imagine it is about redemption...or longing for a loved one....his handling of her skin and her thin mouth.....her eyes like white ponds.....glisten like two pearls.Like all great portraits, they grasp something in you...the viewer.....you become an explorer and a  disciple at the same time.

Black used by Manet.....like Lautrec ...is wielded like its butter on the softest bread.......to produce a silhouette like nothing you've ever seen. Manet the Impressionist......that's what he did....made a big impression....using black. Matisse is the other marvel....Henri's use of black was riveting. The black servant in Manet's"Olympia"....and Olympia herself wearing a black bow...draws you into the era......a highly fashionable era too!....he was the Couturier of painting....and so was Toulouse Lautrec......just got it right every time.

Self portraits are done when life gets hard. I find great pleasure in the delving act......an act of the hidden inner sanctum.... revealed like nudity....unashamed. Its like a pure instinctive quality.....that needs an outing.....I find it fascinating when people like the portraits.......they make their own observations and responses....often seeing something personal or something so detached ....... Black seems appropriate here....with a midnight blue shadow encroaching.

The Recluse.

This is a portrait of Dora Maar by Pablo Picasso.

I call this portrait the recluse because that is what she looks like here. Dora endured his wrath......after her affair with him.....she turned to Catholicism.....never to see him again....she was the most prolific of the Surrealist women artists.....alongside Leonora Carrington and Leonor Fini......I think this poem by her speaks of her silences :

In the secret of myself to my secret self

living you have me live

In this room I've lived out madness fear chagrin

the simple waking of a summers day

Exile is vast but it's summer, silence

in the sunlight a place of peace where the soul

invents only joy a child on the road to his home.

Dora Maar...1970.

Portraits: As their eyes stare out I want to wear the gaze on my fingers.

There is a very good second-hand bookshop opposite Melbourne University....it has been there for many years. My friends and myself are frequent browsers of this eclectic array of world publishing, something this highly charged global community prefer to ignore now that the internet rules the visual world. I buy old catalogues from this store regularly to cut up and make my Historings from. I accept this as my way to unleash the little portraits back to life......a life ornamental in a world lost to the decorative......

Bleeding hearts.

Portraiture has forever been my most treasured indulgence, as an artist. When I was much younger I remember seeing a portrait of a young girl by Amedeo Modigliani...a Jewish/ Italian painter in Paris around the time of the early 20th Century.

Whilst I knew nothing of art or what the painting meant.....I was entranced by it. The full coloured eyes were very unusual....just filled up with colour. As I stared into the painting my thoughts were to go home and try to copy this image.....I knew I could draw but to try and paint a portrait with paint...was something I hadn't even thought of doing.

My Grandfather had given me a book on portraits for a Christmas present...in that book I saw the paintings of the wives of Henry the VIII .....I was besotted. It was a catalogue from the National Portrait Gallery of London.

Anonymous French painter.

Eyes and the the softness of the skin in the paintings was exquisite.....often there is a pearl or a dark red ruby to observe..........I was hooked at every glance.

Collecting books since I was eleven years old....I have managed to keep most of them close to me. I spent many years living in England and working in the publishing industry....this allowed me to grow my collection on a very wide scale.

In 1985 I decided to do my Post Graduate in painting at Sydney University.

It was at that time and in that year.....I painted 48 portraits and created 72 drawings.

Royal Portraiture.

The sitters over the centuries ......some as young as five years of age.....look out at us with a sense of the unknown.

Dressed in their royal finery.....the delicate detail of the fabrics and embellishments, tells us of a time where the mercantile trade was fervent.

Silks from the east.....gold lace from Spain and handcrafted buckles on velvet slippers.....sewn by hand.

Historings by Melwitz Folino.

       

A Self Portrait by Tom Alberts....at La Boudoir Dada.

Compilation of portraits to be made into Historings.

I need to like the person I'm drawing or painting.....most of the time when the person is sitting in front of you.....it becomes very spiritual.

I like to stare at paintings for long periods of time.....a certain amount of internal decision making occurs.

It has everything to do with your inner world....and that's why each and every portrait... has its very own soul.

Deceit by Melwitz Folino.

The portrait above was painted knowing that my love for a person was being compromised at every turn......I was flooded with despair and could only appear to imagine a swift and sorrowful end ...I was not far off........it's as I tell it......art imitating life and my life no longer felt like my own.

The subtle powers of the portrait by some one like Kathe Kollwitz  and my most admired artist of all....Adolph Menzel....are beyond painting ...they transport you they sense doom they show you pain you become racked with emotional unease yet you love and get swept into that world and all that that world is showing you.......such is the power and perfection of the portrait.

Armlette by Melwitz Folino.

Painting and drawing in "Primavera".....Italy. With faith and love.

Many days dedicated to drawing and placement....with particular emphasis towards...DADA....seeing much of the country and working in Naples and Rome.

Spring and the last remaining chill ....are a good combination for inside/ outside working methods.

"Hubris no longer" ....the title of this painting  the carrying of a head......

The Art of Fencing...a noble sport of the existential kind.

Hot air balloon in Sicily.....goggles a must.

Dank Water.

Wielding her sword to rid her of his arrogance.

Prep drawing.

En garde!

Eyes of Dali.

Sicilian Magdalena.

Travel drawing.

Napoleon's Eye.: Italian Grip : Compound attack....fencing terms in...

Napoleon's Eye.: Italian Grip : Compound attack....fencing terms in...: Self Portrait in Italy. Italia the land of my ancestors.......the empire, the eternal city....Roma. Stranger than fiction and m...

Italian Grip : Compound attack....fencing terms in a noble sport.

Self Portrait in Italy.

Italia the land of my ancestors.......the empire, the eternal city....Roma.

Stranger than fiction and more comforting than the life I'v just left behind.

In the sport of fencing......my friends tell me there are some interesting terminologies associated with the game......which warrant discussion of the existential sort.

When I first saw how the game is played...my thoughts were tied up with how incredible the positioning of the bodies looked.....all the lunging and uprightness seemed like exquisite dancing.

As I watched in awe of the uncertainty and zen style placement.....my attention turned to the remarks used by the onlookers.........italian grip and a compound attack!......was this poetry or the dialogue from my own shambolic life.....of late.

A powerful thing happened as I observed the two bodies in front of me......they were armed with swords and facial masks to protect themselves......as I joined in the shouting and general cheering .....I was taken back to a reminder of a time I did not like......one which controlled my words from within....as the opponents lunged toward each other with a mighty growl.......the words....."Dangerous Woman" and I never loved you!........reeled into to my mind....... like a roaring locomotive, about to go into a dark and loud tunnel............resonating at a high pitch almost dictatorial.

Absence of blade, Derobement, Fleche, Corps-a-corps and EN GUARD........all terms used to define the game.......Italy has profound and unique ways to make my work and all I do .....appear worthy of my recent unearthly demise......only this time the sword....IS.... mightier than the word.

En guard!

INTERIORS : Good for one's soul.

According to Coco Chanel and the great Yves Saint Laurent.....when placing beautiful "object de arte"...in your home....one must firstly pick it up and look directly into it with careful study.

When I read this.... I too, was a little transported.


Having spent a very long time as a lecturer and teacher......I am reminded of the many discussions I had with various students concerned about placement. Drawing and Illustration is governed by the fundamental means of expression throughout human history...it is one of the simplest and most efficient means of communicating visual ideas.....often my role as a communicator, is instrumental in assuring them of the way the positioning and articulation of their work.....is considered.

I have no problems in demonstrating particular methods and techniques....used in expressing what can be achieved. Touching their paper and making marks for them....is the best way for them to see and to feel connected to that methodology. Some outstanding results and experimentations in this form of teaching....has led to many rewarding experiences as a teacher.

As an artist myself ....I'm concerned with so many configurations associated with ideas and observations.

The great "Italian Renaissance"has been a most inspiring time for me .....in examining the hundreds of written stories and viewing thousands of paintings and drawings.....this extraordinary time in Art History....for me sits unsurpassed. I'm very fortunate to be working in an area clearly linked to my ancestral heritage.....being Italian has and always will be hugely significant....so when I began working in "INTERIORS"....this seemed so apt and felt like a natural follow through for me.


In the early 1990's I visited the Hermitage Museum in Saint Petersburg.......it was there in that magnificent place.....I felt spiritually connected to my heritage ...more than ever....a fascination developed for pearls and very dark red rubies.......the jewels of the Imperial Royal Family....were some of the most alluring and exquisitely designed pieces I have ever had the pleasure of seeing.

Transparency and pristine gleam.... are two extremely glorious aspects of working within "Interiors"....mirrors and handmade artifacts.... surround me all day long......today I spent most of the morning discussing a clients custom made walnut library......."Books and festoons of antique paper flowers were mentioned"...............the world of personal interior spaces....is a joy to my nature....not to mention good for the soul.

Placement and the look of an Era.

La Boudoir Dada Studio Interior.

       

  

Thank you to Rodman Wyatt...my partner in Aesthetic Crimes......together we work as one!

My time in a bottle.......in Neptune's sea.

 

It was time to put some of my later drawings out of my sight.........for ever.
They were a reminder of an uneasy moment in time where life became suspended.
I took my clear glass San Vittorio bottle and filled it with five drawings and a painting.


As I walked along the beach front, I carefully chose a rough and windy section of the sea to float my loaded bottle......armed with a wire stopper instead of a cork.......I waded in as far as I could stand.....and threw the bottle far and furiously.

Pounding waves knocked me around with a loud echoing thud......I went under and took a deep breath.


All the while thinking of Neptune's mighty power........I was being tossed around in his cold waves.


Gone and no more lingering.....the bottle rolled way out further and further...until I couldn't see it anymore.
Lifted by the thrashing swell.....I swam back to shore .....lighter in my mind of the pain and ugly remembrance of the bottles contents.......fare thee well and go a hundred miles away from me .. ...crash and explode and never be seen.

May Neptune's Sirens make a seaweed basket of hope from the little pieces of wreckage that once was a dream.