Today I summed up the commitment to begin the project I mentioned the other day, of doing a drawing in which I copy a famous work of art. In case you missed the original post, this is a task set by the tutor at the life-drawing class I normally attend, to keep us on our toes during the current period of isolation. Taking my courage in both hands, I decided that I would base my drawing on Bernini’s statue of Apollo and Daphne. It is a piece I admired immensely when I encountered it in Italy. Also I thought that if I elected to copy a painting I would be more likely to emphasise the copying, and less likely to pay attention to what out tutor wanted, which is to concentrate on our response to the work. It has turned out to be a challenging task.
I have the basics of a drawing in place, but already it has turned out to be thought-provoking. Of course, not be able to go to Italy to reacquaint myself with the original I have been compelled to work from a photograph.* I have been asking myself whether that fact makes it more likely that I will just concentrate on the copying aspect of the task, and find the response aspect of it to be even more difficult. If I were in the presence of the original sculpture I would be able to position myself in relation to it as a matter of choice, and that choice itself would be an aspect of my response. As it is, the photograph has already preempted some possibilities of the way I could have addressed the piece.
This is not a trivial matter. I remember that when I did actually see Bernini’s masterpiece in Italy I stood in front of it, whereas the photograph from which I am working views it from the side. This brings out quite a different aspect of the relationship between the figures. When I return to the job tomorrow, and begin the more refined work on the drawing, will I need to try and recall the original experience, and recover some of those emotions, rather than confine myself to looking at the photo? Thinking of Stanislavsky’s advice about “emotion memory” perhaps that would only result in falsity. I need, perhaps, to try to see the photograph as if I have never experienced the sculpture before, and permit myself to engage with it as a new encounter. It’s a fascinating problem.
*The fact that in the current situation I can’t even go down to our municipal gallery, the Cartwright Hall, or to Salt’s Mill to try one of their celebrated Hockney collection, is another reason for working from a photograph.