A Model perspective: Inside the Pastel Workshop
Jessica Kneller
Issue date: 2/4/10 Section: Arts
Looking straight ahead, I suddenly realized that 26 eyes were staring back at me. Scrutinizing my every feature. Evaluating every contour and form.
"By gosh, she's not symmetrical!" visiting artist Larry Blovits exclaimed.
I smiled slightly, remembering the fact that my nose is crooked from a childhood gym class injury. Just as quickly, I shook off the smirk. I must keep a straight face. Pleasant but firm. Carefully poised. Thirteen art students' every line depended on my keeping still.
It was three hours into the first day of a pastel workshop. I was the model.
I arrived at 9:30 a.m. with hair curled and simple makeup after a morning that began with an electrical shortage in Waterman Dormitory's fire alarm system. One fire truck, two security vehicles and a half dozen confused firefighters later, I walked into the studio.
Upon arrival, I was sent to the bathroom to change into my first of five outfit options. Blovits seemed to know exactly the type of neckline he was looking for. Five trips to the bathroom through a lobby full of perspectives later, Blovits finally settled on a grey wool sweater with a draping neckline and an intricate necklace.
At 10 o'clock, the art students filed in, forming a tentative half circle around Blovits. After a brief introduction, the artist selected a sheet from the stack of pastel paper and clipped it to his drawing board. His aged hands then lingered over his vast selection of dusty pastels as he searched for the perfect shade of brown. Preliminaries complete, he motioned for me to take my place on the platform.
As I sat down in the old paint splattered mahogany chair, Professor of Art Sam Knecht flipped on a studio light. Blovits then turned me to the perfect angle and began his instruction. He returned to his enormous collection of pastels.
Never before had I witnessed such detailed attention to the human face. He began by drawing a box, the outside lines of which would soon touch the outside edges of my chin, the sides of my hair, and the top curl on my head. Blovits then held up his pastel and closed one eye, measuring my features and establishing proportions by which he could more accurately outline my face.
"By gosh, she's not symmetrical!" visiting artist Larry Blovits exclaimed.
I smiled slightly, remembering the fact that my nose is crooked from a childhood gym class injury. Just as quickly, I shook off the smirk. I must keep a straight face. Pleasant but firm. Carefully poised. Thirteen art students' every line depended on my keeping still.
It was three hours into the first day of a pastel workshop. I was the model.
I arrived at 9:30 a.m. with hair curled and simple makeup after a morning that began with an electrical shortage in Waterman Dormitory's fire alarm system. One fire truck, two security vehicles and a half dozen confused firefighters later, I walked into the studio.
Upon arrival, I was sent to the bathroom to change into my first of five outfit options. Blovits seemed to know exactly the type of neckline he was looking for. Five trips to the bathroom through a lobby full of perspectives later, Blovits finally settled on a grey wool sweater with a draping neckline and an intricate necklace.
At 10 o'clock, the art students filed in, forming a tentative half circle around Blovits. After a brief introduction, the artist selected a sheet from the stack of pastel paper and clipped it to his drawing board. His aged hands then lingered over his vast selection of dusty pastels as he searched for the perfect shade of brown. Preliminaries complete, he motioned for me to take my place on the platform.
As I sat down in the old paint splattered mahogany chair, Professor of Art Sam Knecht flipped on a studio light. Blovits then turned me to the perfect angle and began his instruction. He returned to his enormous collection of pastels.
Never before had I witnessed such detailed attention to the human face. He began by drawing a box, the outside lines of which would soon touch the outside edges of my chin, the sides of my hair, and the top curl on my head. Blovits then held up his pastel and closed one eye, measuring my features and establishing proportions by which he could more accurately outline my face.
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