I've been working on this post since the 17th, I swear. It was just in my editing folder until now.
We have finally started working on our hands! exciting! I am not exactly sure of why, but I have this huge obsession with hands. Whenever it comes down to drawing what I want, I've always included hands in my work. But weirdly enough, I've never drawn skeleton hands. We had to draw one of a skeleton and another of a real hand. Well, on Monday, we focused mostly on the arms and tried to draw the muscles in by just looking at our model, Annie. Here's a picture of a long-drawing from Monday.
It's REALLY hard for me to see the muscles underneath, so I got some help from Amy this time. I realized that the manikins we've been working on can be a huge help to see the muscles, and I plan to study them and kind of memorize where they lie and overlap so I can picture that when I have to draw from just looking at Annie.
Back to the hands. I started with the skeleton one and it helped a lot as to how to draw the real hand. It was pretty much just adding muscles and skin to the skeleton hand. We had the weekend to draw these hands but I finished them during our class period due to my weekend trip. I'm pretty happy with my drawings. I think most of the drawings I finished in class are pretty good proportionately, but still so much to work on and fix.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Sunday, April 24, 2011
April 10, 2011
50 minute drawing |
And here's a poem that I found, thought some people might enjoy it.
A Thought Suggested By The New Year
by Thomas Campbell (1837)
The more we live, more brief appear
Our life's succeeding stages:
A day to childhood seems like a year,
And years like passing ages.
The gladsome current of our youth,
Ere passions yet disorders,
Steals, lingering like a river smooth,
Along its grassy borders.
But as the care-worn cheek grows wan,
And sorrow's shafts fly thicker,
Ye stars, that measure life to man,
Why seem your courses quicker?
When joys have lost their bloom and breath,
And life itself is vapid,
Why, as we reach the Falls of death,
Feel we its tide more rapid?
It may be strange-yet who would change
Time's course to slower speeding;
When one by one our friends have gone,
And left our bosoms bleeding?
Heaven gives our years of fading strength
Indemnifying fleetness;
And those of youth, a seeming length,
Proportioned to their sweetness.
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