Posts Tagged ‘club’

Here is a comparative study of a finished large Polaroid vs the original pencil drawing;

halfhalf

More and more I feel like the pencil should be shown next to the pilling up finished Polaroid. There is a line that gets lost in the painting process. Which is a shame, but isn’t it un-avoidable?

I also realized, silly me, that I should always scan the finished painting before the last gloss, because even though the gloss once dry sorta makes the color deeper and nicer when I scan it there is this shine I cannot get rid off….

here is the finished Polaroid, as you can see it shines. I was happier with the overall light on this one.

Large_Polaroid_013small

And the entire original pencil drawing.

Large_Polaroid_013_pencil_stagesmall

For those wondering I always start drawing with a color pencil in blue, purple or orange to block out the composition before going over it with an HB pencil. Then it’s off to the tracing table, where you usually loose the original line…

The drawing is a preserved memory of one of those warm summer night spent dancing till the sun rise, worrying about nothing but the present moment, looking at the floating lights and trying to see faces in the dark, being blind and mindless and in love.

I’ve been listening to a lot of classical music tonight and remembered how much that stuff really grabs my insides, so I’ll end up the post with the adequate lyrics excerpt from Strauss’s four last song, “At Sunset”;

We have through sorrow and joy
gone hand in hand;
From our wanderings, let’s now rest
in this quiet land.

Around us, the valleys bow
as the sun goes down.
Two larks soar upwards
dreamily into the light air.

Come close, and let them fly.
Soon it will be time for sleep.
Let’s not lose our way
in this solitude.

O vast, tranquil peace,
so deep in the evening’s glow!
How weary we are of wandering—
Is this perhaps death?

~ till next time

– D

 

Here is the second largest Polaroid I’ve ever made, it’s 18 by 24″, I actually couldn’t scan it all. It’s Called “party Life” after that song from the Mighty Hannibal. It was inspired by one of those endless night in Brooklyn in August 2013.

Party Life

I’m slightly agoraphobic so I get anxious when I end up in a crowd with less and less space to move around. I need to grab on whomever I’m with to reassure myself I won’t be swallowed by the wave of people around me. I’ve been able to control it but sometimes it’s really hard. If I don’t loose myself dancing, which is hard if there is a lack of space, I just stand there and look around. As a French proverb says “La nuit tous les chats sont gris” (at night all cats are grey); night scene is interesting and sometimes surreal when you look at it with an outsider’s eye. Everybody is hiding in the dark, faces becomes homogeneous, it’s sometimes suffocating and claustrophobic.

When I see someone I actually know and recognize while I’m lost in the dark is for for me a relief that overwhelms me like an awesome wave. Being in those places sometimes requires to go in as a pack of wild animals watching for each other’s back. Plus being a lone woman in a club is never good nor recommended, you feel like a lamb surrounded by hungry wolves.

More large and small Polaroids coming soon….

till next time

~D

Promises are meant to be broken. Here are a couple Polaroids I made over the summer of 2013.

the PromiseI’ll end this quick post with an extract from Nan Goldin’s photography book “The devil’s playground”;

With the second drink, at the restaurant,
 holding hands on the bare table,
 we are at it again, renewing our promise 
 to kill each other. You are drinking gin,
 night-blue juniper berry
 dissolving in our body, I am drinking Fumé,
 chewing its fragrant dirt and smoke, we are
 taking on earth, we are part soil already,
 and wherever we are, we are also in our bed,
 fitted, naked, closely
 along each other, half passed out,
 after love, drifting back and forth
 across the the border of consciousness,
 our bodies buoyant, clasped. 

Your hand tightens on the table. You’re a little afraid
 I’ll chicken out. What you do not want
 is lie in a hospital bed for a year after a stroke,
without being able to to think or die, you do not want
 to be tied to a chair like your prim grandmother, cursing.
 The room is dim around us, ivory globes, pink curtains
 bound at the waist – and outside,
 a weightless, luminous, lifted up summer twilight.
 I tell you you do not know me if you think I will not kill you.
 Think how we have floated together
 eye to eye, nipple to nipple,
 sex to sex, the halves of a creature
 drifting up to the lip of matter
 and over it – you know me from the bright, blood-flecked  delivery room,
 if a lion had you in its jaws I would attack it,

if the ropes binding your soul are on your own wrist, I will cut them.

till soon ~

– D