Painting with Bug Blood, Week VIII: Self-Portrait

Back in great number

The bugs are back! After a mysterious absence, they suddenly reappeared in great number on my backyard fence. I can only assume they are returning to winter in my office wall, but are catching a little sun beforehand. I scraped a fat cluster into a yogurt container and was back in business.

Some background: it's been awhile since bug shortages imposed a hiatus on the Painting with Bug Blood series, so not all readers may be familiar. Last March, I tried to turn an infestation of box elder bugs, also known as the maple bug, to my advantage. I did so by crushing them up with mortar and pestle and teaching myself to paint with their blood. I stormed through Chinese calligraphy, twee folk art, landscape, still life, abstract art and more, before concluding that my efforts had forced the maple bug into extinction.

Handsome weasel hair brushes

I was wrong. But the wait has not been in vain - in the intervening time my Japanese connections furnished me with the finest Kumano weasel hair brushes. So famous are these brushes there is a brush festival in Kumano every year, where painters thank their brushes for a lifetime of service before burning them and releasing their spirits into the sky. I can barely wait to do that, but I'm going to have to paint a hell of a lot of bug blood before that time comes.

A few famous self portraits

Good thing I could paint with bug blood and the hair of Japanese weasels all day. One subject all serious artists need to touch on at some point is the self-portrait. Heck, you can see a bunch of famous examples at right at right. I had this feeling that mine would turn out as good or better. With the materials in hand, all I needed was the right reference photo.


I tried taking a casual candid shot, but it lacked a strong thematic element and emotional centre. I played dress up all morning, but the results never seemed to come out as I'd imagined them. You can see a few of my attempts below:

All by myself and without a tripod, I was unable to strike the right note. I turned to my archives to see if I could find anything I liked. I landed on one from a trip to Chiapas that captured the depths of soul I needed. Night has fallen; I'm sitting under an umbrella with my arms crossed. My expression is reflective - pensive? I have only a few days left in Mexico, where I've been living and working, before I must return to boring old Canada. The conflict is internal - I stare into the darkness and find no answer. You can see it all in the photo:

The model

I knew I'd have trouble capturing the photo's delicate chiaroscuro effect in bug blood, but I hoped to capture something of my essence anyway. I was immediately taken with the results - it's true what they say about choosing a subject you're passionate about. And no joke, the Kumano brushes gave me an unprecedented level of control over the notoriously runny bug blood. I'm less impressed with my attempt to capture the dark jungle around me, but I got the important parts right. I'll be back with more bug blood images as long as the supply lasts, but here's the latest:

Self-Portrait

Innovative Ways to Deal with Invasive Species

The dastardly lionfish

We're into the second week of the bug blood shortage, and I have so far managed to capture precisely three maple bugs. While I suspect there may be larger environmental forces at play, I have to acknowledge I may have played a hand in their scarcity.

  

Kudzu consumes a home

I'm extremely proud of myself for that. I'm cooking up an alternate project to keep me busy over the summer, assuming the bugs don't return, but I thought I'd take this opportunity to muse on some methods others have used in their battle with backyard invaders. I was able to turn my infestation into beautiful works of art, but what if the invaders are larger or unsuitable for use as pigment? The answer is usually "eat them."

Somebody eat this fucker

I should count myself lucky that I haven't had to deal with lionfish, kudzu, nutria, or lampreys. Lionfish are taking over the coastal waters of the Atlantic and devastating reef ecology as they go. Lampreys (eel-like bloodsuckers that attach themselves to fish) have slithered through the canals into the Great Lakes and impacted the fisheries there. Kudzu is a weed that grows almost magically fast, and although generally not a problem for Canadians, it has been spotted creeping up from the south towards Windsor. For those who do face these menaces, there are cookbooks out there to help. In the links below you will find recipes for kudzu sorbet, lionfish nachos, and feral pig confit. I haven't had a chance to make any of these myself, so let me know how it turns out if you try 'em:

http://www.audubonmagazine.org/features0410/gourmet.html

http://www.mnn.com/food/recipes/photos/6-edible-invasive-species-recipes/eat-em-to-beat-em

  And, because lampreys are a common feature of my nightmares, it's nice to see someone torturing them for a change. Here is a video of an avant-garde chef working with lampreys:

Bug Blood Shortage!

I regret to announce that there will be no bug blood painting this week. I would be happy to make one, but there are no bugs. It's chilling to think I caught and mashed them all, but I can't quite be sad that the infestation in my backyard has gone away.

Gone away for now, that is. Chances are they'll be back when the weather shifts again. If so, you can bet I'll be painting up a storm next week, and if not, I will launch a whole new weekly project! I like to stay busy.

So, bug blood fans, check back in a week's time. Cheers,

Matt

Painting with Bug Blood, Week VII: Getting Political

Piss Christ by Andres Serrano

Religious provocation isn't usually my bag; not because I am pious, but because the target is too easy.  If the goal is to create a challenging work of art, there are groups out there it would take far more creativity and audacity to shock than fundamentalists. At least this is my case, because fire and brimstone are not a big part of my daily life at the moment. But censorship -- now that sets my blood boiling, and it has ever since Help! My Teacher Is an Alien was removed from the library in Grade Five. So when I heard that Andres Serrano's infamous Piss Christ was vandalized last week, I decided to begin work on my latest composition in solidarity with Serrano and freedom of expression, and I called it Bug Blood of Christ.

Piss Christ, vandalized

In case you don't know it, Piss Christ is a glossy photo of a crucifix floating in a glass of urine. Serrano, himself from a religious background, claims he intended the piece as a comment on the cheapening of religious icons in contemporary culture. He first exhibited it in 1989, and it has been involved in controversy ever since. US Senators Al D'Amato and Jesse Helms loudly decried the work, and it was vandalized once before at the National Gallery of Victoria in Australia in 1997. Neo-Nazis raided a Swedish exhibition in 2007. Finally, Christian protesters in Avignon, France  returned to finish the job on April 17 of this year, mortally wounding Piss Christ with a hammer and an ice pick or screwdriver.  Far from an isolated incident, the vandalism was part of larger campaign of harassment against freedom of expression by Christian fundamentalists, conspicuously coinciding with the term of President Nicolas Sarkozy (for a more thorough account, read the article here: http://www.guardian.co.uk). I applaud the museum for deciding to reopen with the damaged works still hanging, despite receiving death threats to staff. Security has been beefed up accordingly.

Serrano has also worked with blood, semen, milk, and poop. I'm not particularly partial to much of it, though I suppose since I work with bug blood I will have to acknowledge him as a forerunner. And anyway, it's not about a photo of a masturbating nun, it's about his right to photograph a masturbating nun (assuming he has her consent). So - on with the painting.

I found that most images of Christ on the cross were more complex than could be rendered in bug blood, so I did a search for "Christian Colouring Book" and came up with some dandy images. As weird as it is to be rendering this gory image in bug blood, I can't help but feel it is no weirder than a five year old doing it in crayon.  The results will not replace Piss Christ, but hopefully I won't receive any death threats either:

Bug Blood of Christ

Check back next week for more bug blood art!

Painting with Bug Blood, Week VI: The Straight and Narrow

I am beginning to appreciate the smell

After the three day hangover that was Abstract Expressionism, I was in no hurry to repeat the experiment. Yet I feel some pressure to do exactly that, because the response to that piece was more enthusiastic than all the rest combined. We are only halfway through the series, and I don't want the energy to flag. Nor do I want to end up face down in an alley, which is where I'm headed if I continue in that direction. This week's challenge was to capture the excitement without the physical side effects, and I vowed to do it the old-fashioned way: with hard work.

Watching an interesting programme

Good living starts in the morning. I got up early, made some soy milk,  and went for a run. I saw children walking to school, crocuses sprouting on front lawns all down my street, and a dog getting hit by a train. As soon as I got home I showered and tried out my new cucumber face mask. My skin these days is so nice it hardly feels like my face. While I waited for the mask to dry I put on my favourite sweatshirt and watched morning talk shows. My mind felt limpid, very limpid. During the commercials I made a fresh pot of bug blood, which has become something of a ritual for me. I am even beginning to appreciate the smell.

Eight blooms on this baby

I took it to the window and contemplated this week's subject, my orchid. My goal was to capture its essence before I kill it with ineptitude. Unfortunately, I arrived at just the right time of day, and the way the light fell on it was ungodly beautiful. I knew I couldn't paint it - I'd only make a hash of it. Normally that doesn't matter, but my orchid is special. I poked around the house for something a little uglier, but nothing stuck. We are babysitting my girlfriend's parents' cat, but he had only arrived the day before and still wouldn't come out from under the couch. I jabbed him a few times with a piece of doweling and then gave up. I felt a bit too limpid. Slowly thoughts of wine crept into my head.

Gewürztraminer?

I had not realized dependencies could grow so quickly. Somehow between this week and the last wine had become inextricably linked with notions of public notoriety and artistic integrity. I fought back by thinking of how much more productive clean livers are in the long run. Finally my soul ransomed me and promised no paintings until I had at least a glass. I realized that clean livers are more likely to drink white wine than red, and compromised. We had a stash put aside for Easter, and I made a mental note to refresh it before the weekend.
 

The strawberries were bland

Brilliant ideas now came easily to me. I returned to my seat with renewed purpose and applied myself to one of them. After several glasses I was beginning to feel lightheaded, but I did not forget my purpose. Comparing the results with last week, I can only guess that different grape varietals act upon the psyche in subtle ways. While last week I struggled with an acute sense of turpitude, white wine made my neck itchy. Also, this time I worked from a model, which may account for the difference:

The model

The still life

Check back next week for more bug blood art!

Painting with Bug Blood, Week V: Abstract Expressionism

Form

To hell with Chinese brush technique. Last week’s landscape inspired my restless creative spirit, and my encounters with colour and form since then have left me in a state of ecstasy.  On Tuesday I decided to take on one of the great artistic movements of the past century. Abstract expressionism turns my crank, both because of its ferocity and because it looks easy. I know the abstract expressionists were mostly angry drunkards because of the movies, but I doublechecked on Wikipedia to be sure, and yup:  Abstract expressionism “has an image of being rebellious, anarchic, highly idiosyncratic and, some feel, nihilistic.”

Breakfast

I was glad it didn’t say patient, motivated, and reflective, because those qualities don’t come as easily to me. I got up and made breakfast, a banana and a bottle of wine.  I took it out to the patio and tried to attune myself to the swirling energies in my backyard. I got absorbed in the grain of the wood under me for a long time. I got a few looks from my neighbours on their way to work. After I’d finished half of the family-sized bottle of wine I felt ready to express myself.

Workstation

I had already worked up a fresh pot of bug blood. I listened to my soul, it was quietly gurgling. This was not going to be a painting I could do indoors, and even so I laid down some newspaper. Birds were chirping above me. I saturated my brush and spattered the page with fat drops of blood.

Ready to express myself

It looked good, but it lacked a focal point. I shook the pot (I keep the bug blood in an old cupcake container), then upended the lid onto the page. That was when I knew the composition would be called “Sun.”  I stumbled backward to survey my work.

I am an artist

It had nice motion, but something was missing. I tried mashing a bug directly onto the page, but the results were less exciting than I anticipated. I tried flaying the page with the banana peel, but it only made it look dirty, and I wiped it off with a Kleenex. Reluctantly, I realized that the problem was that I was not drunk enough.

Trapped

I downed another couple glasses as quickly as possible and went into the bathroom with the lights off. I looked in the mirror and thought about how ugly my life was, about all the people who have wronged me. I thought about everyone who would never understand my work and what I was trying to do with this project.  I thought about age and creeping death. I forced myself to contemplate the fact I would never escape this murderous universe. Then I wept, and yelled inarticulately for a bit, and went back outside.

Emotional honesty

I don’t remember completing the composition, but apparently I had the presence of mind to set up the camera beforehand. The masterstroke appears to be undoing another button on my shirt, wearing sunglasses, and screaming as I hurl the remainder of the pot directly at the page.

Afterward I pinned it to the cupboards, snapped a photo, and was in bed by eleven a.m. Although the experiment took a heavy toll, I think the results speak for themselves:

"Sun"

Check back next week for more bug blood art!

Painting with Bug Blood, Week IV: A Trip to the Cemetery

Wherever I live, I need to have a dependable walking route near my house. When I lived in St-Henri in Montreal, I haunted the back alleys, and before that I lived closer to the Old Port and would walk down to the clock tower. Now that I'm in Peterborough, I use Little Lake Cemetery. Painting bamboo put me in mind of the trees down there, and I decided to start my study of landscapes before all those pesky leaves get in the way.

What is this thing

Luckily, the bugs are cooperating again, and I was able to collect enough over the past week to make a fresh pot of blood. The old stuff had dried and turned black - I'll spare you the photo. Although I'm not getting quite as many maple bugs as I was when the spring weather first hit, I am getting some unusual new varieties. If anybody knows what the hell that thing on the left is, please let me know.

Slingshot chairs

I threw my supplies into a backpack and set off. One cool thing about going to the graveyard is I get to pass the slingshot chairs, which are a hoot. In the fall I often saw Canada Geese stopping in the graveyard and wandering amidst the headstones, which added a nice surreal touch. A few days ago I saw two more making their return trip, but unfortunately they did not make themselves available at the time of the photo shoot.

Scouting a location

My favourite thing about trips to the graveyard is the palette. There's something about those muted tones that is bred to the bone. Even when I lived in Mexico and it was thirty degrees outside with a clear blue sky, I would sometimes pine for the drab greys of my homeland. If I get into this painting thing, I could spend years trying to capture that palette. Unfortunately, right now I have only one colour, and it is off red.

Can't wait until I can paint this

I arrived at twilight, when colours are at their most melancholy. I scouted around, looking for the ideal setting for my first landscape. I contemplated painting the gnarly old bastard at right, but decided he was beyond my abilities for the present. The light was failing and I began to think I had arrived to late, when I found the grave of the Moores, which was shaped like a bench and provided an ideal view of a tree with the water behind.

The view from my lap

I settled into position, uncapped the bug blood, and began. Being fresh, the paint was lighter than it had been and somewhat runny. All the same I was eager to avoid last week's mistake, and quit early before I made my composition dark and overly busy. The result, though still rankly amateurish, was an improvement on last week.

Twilight

The sun had nearly set by the time I finished. Although I sometimes like to linger after dark and sing murder ballads in a mournful baritone, the wind had picked up and it was chilly for April. I set off for home with another masterpiece in my oeuvre.

Ahem. I would like to remind everyone I'm not a painter. Musician, writer, sure, but not an entomologist or a painter. With that in mind, I humbly present this week's composition:

"At the Boneyard"

Check back next week for more bug blood art!

Painting with Bug Blood, Week III: Blood Supply Dwindling

All that remains of my blood supply

I must have jinxed myself. Last week I wrote that I was overwhelmed with bugs, and this week they have vanished. Maybe it was the cold snap, maybe they have relocated, or maybe my neighbours started spraying. I supposed that’s good news, but I have to admit I was starting to enjoy myself. I feel idle, and I made a promise to the public I intend to honour.

Reconnaissance photo

Which has me searching for alternative blood sources. I now see the squirrel in my backyard with different eyes. In the past I saw him as a plump and incorrigible nuisance, but I have begun to think seriously about trapping him. He wouldn’t even necessarily have to die, if I could keep him in the basement and tap him as a sustainable blood supply. But he is wily, I know he is onto me and my plans. He laughs at the camera. I get a whiff of mockery every time I go to the backyard. This project could get expensive, not to mention slightly inhumane. The responsible thing is to look inward.

Halvsies?

I was up until 3 a.m. last night, scheming. Not far from my house is the Canadian Blood Services, and I was thinking maybe I could convince them to go halvsies with me.  That seemed unlikely, and in any case I am too shy to ask. I looked in the kitchen for a solution closer to home.

1:57 am

I sat in the bathroom with the door closed for a long time. Things seemed to have gone too far awfully fast. I am prepared to suffer for my art, but not in such a way that I will have permanent scars or difficulty walking. I know I exaggerate, but I cannot overcome a basic squeamishness. I don’t menstruate and  I don’t use injection drugs, so there is no real way to get my blood short of a puncture wound. Besides, there is no way of knowing how the public would react, and I suspect it’s already been done. I put the implements back in the drawer.

Which left me with the dwindling supply of blood in my fridge. This week it has turned a disagreeable chocolate colour and stinks like fish oil. If I can’t come by fresh blood by next week, I may have to abandon the project. With a heavy heart I turned to page five of Chinese Brush and sat down to paint what might be my last composition.

2:21 am

According to Lucy Wang, “Bamboo is one of four plants in the traditional study of Chinese brush painting techniques, along with the orchid, plum blossom, and chrysanthemum. These four plants – called ‘The Four Gentlemen’ – represent the noble virtues of Chinese life, which include strength, beauty, honor, and longevity. The straight hollow bamboo stalks symbolize the Buddhist and Taoist ideals of an emptied heart and mind, cleansed of earthly desires and reflecting a modest personality.” I'll tell you about the other three later.

"Chinese Brush" by Lucy Wang, pg 5

Ms. Wang certainly set the standard high, and I quickly broke every rule of Chinese brush technique. My excuse is that blood does not behave exactly like ink, and it is difficult to get variations in darkness with a single stroke. This week I struggled with something every amateur painter surely does, the desire to “improve” on the existing picture until one arrives at a hideous mess. I suspect that after just two paintings I have lost my naive touch and am beginning to conventionally suck. Also, the painting is outright brown. Since I seem to be deviating anyway, next week I am going to go out of doors looking for inspiration. For now, here is the finished product:

"Bamboo"

 

Check back next week for more bug blood art!