Mother and Child Relief Sculpture

Completed "Mother and Child" with final bronze patina.
“Mother and Child,” cement fondue, 36 x 48 inches (approx.)

Mother and Child is a relief sculpture that I made while studying at the University of Guelph. The assignment was to design an abstract relief sculpture for the lobby of a hospice, but I was having difficulty because the anniversary of my own child’s death was approaching. My professor, the Canadian sculptor John Fillion, was critical of my preliminary sketches (because they were too “soft and round” apparently), but after learning my story he spoke at length about the German artist, Kathe Kollwitz, and the depth of her work around death, dying, and loss. To my surprise, he suggested that I do a figurative piece. I don’t remember if it was him or me who selected Kollwitz’s 1903 etching, Mother and Dead Child… somehow I think it was him. In any case, I used models, including my son, a friend, and myself in order to render and personalize the figures.

Kathe Kollwitz, "Mother and Dead Child," Etching, 1903
Kathe Kollwitz, “Mother and Dead Child,” Etching, 1903

Mother and Child did hang on my wall for a few years, but it has been in storage up north since 2001 when I took a teaching contract in Mexico. This August 2nd, I’ll be attending my niece’s wedding and will be picking it up, which is why I’m writing this now. Although I initially thought I would never be able to part with this very personal piece, the truth is that it’s time to let it go. I don’t want it anymore and am hoping that someone local might be interested in purchasing it. I’ll be putting the word out via social media, but if you’re reading this and would like more information, please feel free to contact me.

For hanging, cable was embedded in the cement during fabrication. The piece weighs over fifty pounds, and a couple of bolts screwed into the wall studs will safely support its weight. (I patched and painted the walls when I moved, and everything was left pristine.)

About the process:  Working in sculpture using the casting technique is a long and very involved process, and “Mother and Child” took two months to complete. Below are photos that were taken during several stages of work. Missing are steps 4 (submerging the entire cast in a cold bath overnight while the plaster cures), 5 (removing the clay and washing the cast),  7 (returning the cast to a cold bath while the cement fondue cures), 8 (carefully chipping the plaster cast off the cement fondue sculpture with a chisel and wooden mallet), 10 (applying a thinned enamel wash to the sculpture and buffing it), and finally 11 (lightly painting the sculpture with several different metallic spray paints to achieve a bronze look).

 

 

New Works in Photography

It’s been a while since I’ve updated my website with new work, but I’ve been on a roll this past week. Mostly what has inspired this creative burst was the long-awaited purchase of my first DSLR camera. Years ago I owned a used 1965 model SLR Canon FT film camera. I studied black and white photography and darkroom developing in Vancouver, but when digital came along, the equivalent to what I had was a bit out of reach. And because I considered myself primarily a painter and printmaker for such a long time, I held off making the investment.

My first digital was a Nikon Coolpix 880 (3.1 megapixel), with which I took the still impressive ONR train photo series. Then there was the excellent Panasonic Lumix DMC FZ28 (which I gave to my son last month because every soon-to-be dad needs a real camera), and finally, there’s the small but mighty Canon PowerShot SD780 IS (complete with underwater photography housing kit) that I’ll be taking to Detroit for some cool-in-the-pool fun shots at my uncle’s place this summer. Actually, my website banner is a still image from some experimental video I did while swimming in a lake up north. And now, finally, I have a Canon Rebel T3i 600D. I ABSOLUTELY LOVE IT!!!

While I’ve already taken a LOT of photos with my new camera, ironically the photos above were taken a few years ago with the Lumix. So why am I posting these now when I have a new DSLR??? Several reasons: 1) because they were lost in the bowels of my computer, 2) I didn’t have proper editing and work-flow software until now, 3) there are some truly wonderful travel pics that I had always intended to do something with, and 4) file folder housekeeping is seriously overdue so that I can get organized and make room for new stuff. Taking pictures is really really fun, but what happens to them afterward… well, you might call it the black hole of photography, where everything disappears into nowhere-land.

So these are just a few of the over 25,000 never-been-seen-by-anyone photos on my computer that I recently dug up. At the same time, I’ve seriously embraced Instagram during all this sorting and culling, excitedly sharing some gems to my Instagram Account, discovering great work by others in the process, and becoming enamoured with the square photo format. Interestingly, 3×3 inch photos were the norm back when I was a kid in the 60s (my mom had one of those old Kodaks with the large glass viewfinder on top). Most photographs need some cropping anyway, but the square lends itself well to composition and artistic considerations.

So… since moving to Windsor in April, my goal has been to get the paints and [square] canvases out, LOL, but I can’t seem to get away from the PHOTOGRAPHY… which in truth was one of my first loves, instilled in me by my late father, Ray. Interestingly, when I look at these photos I see colours and designs that would translate quite well on the painted surface. Life is good.

Image Info:  All photos are from a trip to Havana in 2009, where we stayed at the Hotel Kholy, a former 3-star Russian establishment nestled in a residential area of the city. The derelict hotel is located on the beach (right at the water’s edge) in the nearby town of Guanabo, where we were visiting friends who rent a Casa Particular every year to escape the harsh Canadian winter months.

Blinded by Beauty: Before & After

Desktop

This morning a friend shared a Huffington Post article by Amanda Duberman about a project by Esther Honig, a human interest reporter, who sent a photograph of herself to photo-editors in over twenty-five countries. She asked them simply “to make me beautiful,” and through their photoshopping efforts she would examine the standards of beauty, and concepts of the “perfect woman,” to see how cultural values had affected the outcome. The results were stunning.

While my initial response to the amazing variety of images emanated from my artist self, a comment by a male friend about the article really got me re-thinking the thrust of her project. My friend stated flatly that make-up (both face paint and computer paint) was all the same. I re-read the article, which is when my cringe factor began to tingle, thus compelling me to write this essay.

First of all, a word about make-up. Make-up has been around since Egyptian times or earlier, so the desire to enhance and dramatize seems to be an inherent tendency in the human condition. That much is true.

However, the thing about “computer make-up” and “mannequinesk” alterations is that for decades young women have been bombarded from all sides with a fake, unattainable ideal as represented in the media, advertising, and the entertainment industry. Today, corporate exploitation of human frailties, the mindless obsession with celebrity idolatry, and the dangerous pursuit of everything artificial has caused a hysterical rejection of our “flaws,” and an epidemic of dysmorphic perceptions and attitudes about the natural human form and its outer appearance. Anorexia, bulimia, Body Dysmorphic Disorder, extreme plastic surgery – all betray a crisis of self, and a crisis of identity that has exploded in recent history.

In examining the array of images, I couldn’t help but observe that the American version of Honig’s face, featured in the Huffington Post, underscores our society’s current obsession with the infantilized woman (usually devoid of pubic hair) as a desirable sexual object. In any case, Honig appears undeniably pubescent in this doctored photo. A second American photoshopped image (on her website) is an unabashed rendition of Angelina Jolie as the model for idealized feminine beauty. These are obvious western constructs that I’m already familiar with and can easily identify. It would be interesting to be able to spot how the other images reflect different aspects of popular culture in their respective countries. And out of curiosity, I would especially like to know which images were shopped by men, and which ones were done by women. I suspect that a pattern would emerge suggesting possible gender bias or preferences in rendering the female face, but a controlled study group would be essential for this kind of research.

Nevertheless, I admit that viewing the Before & After gallery vis-à-vis the country of origin is intriguing. And I do applaud Honig’s personal growth and cultural awakening, her openness to “the concept of religion and custom, not just aesthetics,” her realization of how uneven her natural skin tone is. BUT the fact remains that her thesis is shallow, disappointing, and does nothing to address cultural stereotyping or the pressure on men and especially women everywhere to “measure up” in the beauty department somehow, some way. After all, foot binding, invented to achieve the coveted (albeit crippled and pus-oozing) lotus foot, was the pinnacle of Chinese status, beauty, and sexiness not so long ago. And let’s not forget the rib-cracking corsets with the 16-20 inch target waistline… but I digress.

What’s most frustrating is that she hints at the problem of “unattainable standards of beauty,” but then superficially glosses over it by stating, “when we compare those standards on a global scale, achieving the ideal remains all the more elusive.” She never says, just be yourself and forget the brainwashing you’ve been subjected to. She never wonders about women around the world and their struggles to negotiate imposed patriarchal values and standards. She never talks about the consequences of buying into the beauty myth or asks how we even got to his point. All of these things scream out to be examined and have everything to do with her project, but are ignored. This could not be better illustrated than by her failure to comment on the two American versions of her image discussed earlier. Even worse, how is it helpful or even acceptable to stereotype tastes and trends in different countries based on individual and subjective photoshopped ideals of feminine beauty in this day and age? If nothing else, it’s problematic.

Honig has missed a golden opportunity to dig beneath the surface and actually say something – that striving for artificial, exterior beauty (some cultures may be more afflicted than others) is a soul-numbing endeavour, where we as humans can never win, and all the while risking losing touch with the essence of our inner being, where our true strength and beauty resides. As Duberman concludes, perhaps the myth of a singular beauty norm has been dispelled (for whom I wonder), but nothing in her article or the project questions, educates, or enlightens. It saddens me to realize that Jean Kilbourne’s message in the Killing Us Softly series has been lost and trampled under the feet of new generations eager in their relentless quest for physical perfection.

In closing, I skimmed through enough of the extensive comment section of the article to get a sense of overall reactions to the Before & After project, which only served to prove my point. There was an overwhelming amount of criticism, scorn, and ridicule over the quality of the photoshopping and retouching, which tells me that most did not bother to skip over to Honig’s website to gather more information about the project, or to even ponder and reflect on her motives and the bigger picture. It was all about skill and appearances. Maybe if I dig a little deeper I might find a few kindred souls searching, like me, for actual meaning and discourse. I know you’re out there… somewhere.

Before & After by Esther Honig

Huffington Post Article by Amanda Duberman

Killing Us Softly 4 Trailer