Marlboro Mincer

Okay, I understand this is not exactly what one could have expected from me after more than two years of dead calm. But hey, gimme a break here – at least it's something!

As you can see, this is a Marlboro mincer. Why? Mostly because I can. Also, because I used to collect empty cigarette packs when I was little (purely scientific interest) and Marlboro pack was my absolute favorite. As for the meat grinder, for me it's a symbol of emerging masculinity: You see, as a boy, I always helped my mom grind the meat, because it required a man's strength (or so I was told), therefore it made me feel like this big, strong man who could grind meat, open tightly screwed jars, mix concrete, stuff like that.

Does it make any sense? No? Excellent! Because it shouldn't.

Technical stuff: 200 x 260 mm, color pencils, 0.35 mechanical pencil, some black and red ball-points (used mostly on the pack).

 
On the early WIP scans you can see how meticulously I modeled each cigarette strand, despite the fact that most of them were doomed right from the start to be buried underneath their brethren.

The Face of Winter

A drawing! Finally. After months of artless life it feels so good to be back on track. But I kinda got rusted, so I needed something plain and simple to re-crank my engine. What can be simpler than a winter landscape in graphite? So here it goes -- The Face of Winter.



Actually, there are two faces in there, but I'm sure you've already noticed them both. If you haven't, here's a hint: sometimes clouds are just clouds, but not in this case.

I know, it looks a little depressive. But this kind of winter, dull and sunless, can be really depressing sometimes. But it also can be almost erotic -- all that untouched, curvy snow...

And here's the real life inspiration for this drawing: our snowy backyard with that weird apple tree.

Dad

This is my father. We have never lived together, he has another family and so on, but we're on good terms. I took his photo in December 2009, a couple of months before my departure from Tbilisi. Usually he wears only a moustache, no beard, but he had quite a stubble on that occasion. I really liked his grizzled beard and told him that I was gonna take his picture and draw his portrait from it when I had time, so he gladly posed.

I haven't seen him for 16 months and I really miss him. Last month I decided to finally sit down to the portrait. It dragged on, as usual, but now it's finally finished.


I believe it's my fourth attempt in oil pastels, and it seems I'm slowly getting my hand in this medium. I usually try to develop the colors and shades evenly and gradually, as I was taught back in the art school, but this time I chose to proceed in a different manner, finishing separate parts almost completely. As you see from the WIP shots below, first I rendered the central part, then the top area, and lastly the bottom part.

The drawing was done on a grey pastel paper with a smooth finish. Colors blended easily and I didn't have to use any chisels or such for blending, just an occasional finger-work. Here's a zoomed detail to show the technique up close and personal.

Spring in Your Eyes

It seems that spring has finally come to Lithuania. It's in the air, and it's irresistible. Yesterday, on the last day of April, as I was planting some potatoes in our kitchen garden, I felt a sudden urge to draw something for the season, quick and simple. So here's my humble tribute to the beauty of spring.

It's done with H, HB and 5B pencils and a mechanical pencil. The model was Diana, of course. Below you can see the work in progress and a zoomed detail.

Laura

This little lady is my wife's cousin's daughter (genealogically, I believe the term "first cousin once removed" would be more correct). It's my gift for her birthday, which is in May. I did it so early because we need time to frame it and ship it to Israel, where she lives with her family.


The drawing has been done with Giotto Stilnovo pastel pencils on Canson Vivaldi Crème paper. Below you can see the work in progress and a zoomed detail. I apologize for the WIP shot quality -- the paper didn't fit into my scanner and to avoid the stitching routine at each stage, I was taking the pictures with my camera, which is in fact a cell phone.

Happy New Ear!

Before you ask: no, it's not about plastic surgery. And it's not about the 80th anniversary of the Frankenstein's bride, either. It's just another of my silly wordplay-based surreal fantasies, no deep meaning intended whatsoever.

As for the details, no ball-points have been used in this one, only color pencils. The ear belongs to Diana, of course. Everything else -- to her mother, although I greatly exaggerated the aged skin texture for a more drastic difference. As you can see from the WIP below, the snowflake earring went through some transformations before establishing its final shape and size.

Levan May Cry

A couple of years ago my good friend and business companion asked me to draw a portrait of his son. Last year, when I still lived in Georgia, we took some photos of Levan (that's the name of the boy) to be used as the reference for the future artwork, where, as we decided after some brainstorming, he would be "cosplaying" Nero, the main character from Devil May Cry 4, one of Levan's favorite videogames.

My own son, Sandro, who happens to be Levan's friend, also participated in that photo-session -- I try to kill two birds with one stone whenever I can. That's when I got the idea of a double portrait featuring Levan and Sandro. I liked that idea so much that I postponed Levan May Cry and immediately started working on The Little Heartbreakers, planning to finish this "side project" very quickly and proceed with the "main thing" right after that. But, as it often happens with me, the work dragged out -- I was able to finish the double portrait (seen on the right) only in May 2010, when I had already moved to Lithuania. By that time I had so many other things to do that I had to forget about Levan May Cry for a while.

A couple of weeks ago I finally found time to sit down to it. I couldn't linger any longer -- the kid was growing up, after all. Besides, my mother was coming to visit us by the end of September, so it was a perfect time to finish the drawing and send it to Georgia with her.

Initially I intended to use my usual combination of color pencils and ballpoint pens on this, but then I changed my mind and decided to make it through only with color pencils, like I did with The Little Heartbreakers. It would serve as another proof that I can draw pictures without the help of the "magic" ballpoints.

As the reference for Nero's costume and his famous grotesque arm (replicating those textures was no piece of cake, I must say) I used some game poster found on the Web. Since the character has white hair, I had some reservations about the perspective of Levan's brown hair turning all white. But, as the work progressed, all my doubts dissipated: the white-haired Levan looked quite convincing -- maybe, in part, thanks to the slightly oriental shape of his eyes, very suitable for all this "Japanese fantasy slasher" thing.

I usually try to distribute the basic colors and shades right from the beginning, developing all the important parts of the drawing as evenly and simultaneously as possible. It helps keeping the control over the drawing. But in this case, as you can see from the WIP shots above, I chose to proceed from top to bottom, almost entirely finishing one part, before switching to another. This way I successfully avoided soiling the artwork with my own hands dirtied while working on the areas with dark, intense colors, quite prevalent in this drawing.

As you may know, I'm using a new signature since 2010, with no date under it. But, as requested by Levan's father, I signed and dated the artwork with my old signature. I was able to finish and scan the artwork in the nick of time -- just 15 minutes before the taxi for the airport arrived. As I'm writing this post, the drawing is flying in my mother's suitcase from Vilnius to Tbilisi, where Levan is waiting for it impatiently...

The Persistence of Khinkali

Everything started with... my avatar. Yes, the one with a melting khinkali on it. I made it about 5 years ago just for fun, but presently I'm using it as my "official" avatar everywhere: on this blog, on my deviantART profile, at ArtWanted.com and many other art or design-related websites, forums, etc. The avatar itself is an entirely digital work -- I took a fragment of Salvador Dali's famous The Persistence of Memory and digitally painted a khinkali over it, replacing the melting clock.

A short explanation for those who don't know what khinkali is -- it's a national Georgian sort of meat dumplings, usually served with beer. It is believed to be originated from Georgian highlands, and since I also come from one of those regions, lust (there is no other word to describe it) for khinkali is in my veins, genetically. Also, I'm a die-hard fan of Dali (obviously), so the avatar served as a manifestation of the eternal unity of the two things I equally cherish in this world -- Dali and khinkali.

No, I'm just kidding -- there was no idea behind the avatar whatsoever. As I said, I did it merely for fun. But, ever since I made it, I've always wanted to bring this visual idea into life as a full piece of art. Naturally, I never had time to sit down to it.

Then something interesting happened. Earlier this year I learned that Salvador Dali's works were going to be exhibited in Chavchavadze House-Museum, located in Tsinandali, Eastern Georgia. The exhibition indeed took place, and it lasted for three months, from April to June. By that time I had already moved to Lithuania and was unable to attend it, but that's not the point. The point is, that this fortunate event revived the sparkle smoldering in me all these years -- the idea of connecting Dali to Georgia, something in the spirit of that khinkali avatar. It was like a sign from above, so I said to myself: That's it, I'm making The Persistence of Khinkali this summer!

I started working at the beginning of August. The most important thing was to choose the medium. Since it was to be practically a copy of Dali's original oil painting, the first thing that came to my mind was oil on canvas, but I quickly rejected the thought -- I've never touched oils since 1995 and, while it seemed to be an appropriate occasion for a glorious "return of the Jedi," messing with them without a properly equipped studio wouldn't do any good. Instead, I decided to use oil pastels, which are able to imitate oil painting quite effectively. However, they are too rough to handle Dali's refined technique all alone, so I left the delicate parts for color pencils.

You might be surprised, but the original painting is quite small in size -- only 24 x 33 cm (9.5 x 13 in). It was quite convenient for me, since I'm used to working in small formats. As for the paper, I set my choice on Canson Montval -- a French brand of heavy watercolor paper. Working on a toothed paper with oil pastels is a pain in the buttocks, but the achieved "canvas feel" makes all the suffering really worth it. Generally, if you want to replicate an oil painting, but don't want to use oils or acrylics, oil pastels are your best friends: as you can see from the WIP shots below, even the process of drawing itself -- creating the under-layers, applying the colors on each other, etc. -- pretty much resembles the oil painting technique.

The work in progress also shows that not all the elements were initially there -- the monument to King Gorgasali and Metekhi Church were added in the process. These distinct landmarks of Tbilisi were present in the concept right from the beginning, and the fact that they are absent on first WIP shots has merely a technical explanation: in order to retain the continuity of the color gradation in the sky, first I blended the colors in the area, then drew the monument and the church on top of it.

Beside the khinkali and the landmarks, there is another "Georgianized" element in the picture -- myself. Or rather, my soft, sleepy head, resting peacefully, with a khinkali covering my ear. If you look at the original, you might see certain similarities between my head and that of (presumably) Dali's, although my nose, naturally, is more Georgian. Also, I have a mouth!

The Persistence of Khinkali might lay the foundation for a whole new series about "Dali in Georgia," but let's not beat the gun. For now let's just say that this is my humble tribute to the great artist, whose legacy continues to inspire creative ideas all around the world. Including Georgia, as you see.

Demonic Khan

First of all, let's make things clear: I don't draw celebrity portraits. In fact, I hate them (the portraits, not the celebrities themselves, of course). Yes, I did some movie posters when I was a kid, but that was different.

So why Roy Khan? What's so special about him that forced me to make an exception to the rule? I can't say for sure, but certainly being a Kamelot fan has nothing to do with it. Maybe it's his face, so alive, able to convey a cascade of different emotions in a single song -- from anger and contempt to grief and lust. The man does amazing things with his expressions on stage. This, combined with his brilliant vocals, captivates and energizes the audience no less than the band's ass-kicking music itself.

That said, let's move on to the drawing. My task here was to depict Khan's "demonic" nature, as he rules over the audience with his "dominating" poses and "spellbinding" gesticulations, often seen both on stage and in music videos. Speaking of the latter, the Ghost Opera video represents one of the perfect demonstrations of Khan's scenic image, so I decided to use a still frame captured from it as the reference for his facial expression. The solid black eyes fitted into the concept just perfectly.


I was unable to find any suitable images for the pose reference though, so I had to improvise. Since I have a terrible deficiency in male models, I had to stand in front of the camera myself. Luckily, I mostly needed only hands, and my hands happen to look quite like Khan's (at least, I have successfully convinced myself of that). For the rings I used the still frames from the same Ghost Opera music video.

Now the costume. I wanted something a bit fancier than he usually wears on stage, something insanely detailed to challenge my drawing skills. When searching for the Gothic dress references on the Web, I stumbled upon a costume (photo on the left) which I thought could serve as a good base. For extra solemnity, I decided to add a band collar to the suite. Finally, with all the references in place, I started to draw my first "official" celebrity portrait ever.

Since the dominant color had to be black, the choice of medium was obvious: graphite pencils. I hadn't drawn anything solely in graphite in years, so it promised to be a pleasant digression, reminding of my art college days. But it wasn't, as it quickly made me remember what a messy medium graphite can be. Below you can see the WIP shots, documenting every step of my pathetic struggle with this medium, once my favorite.

I can't say exactly how long it took, because it's hard to keep track of time when drawing occasionally, only a few hours or even minutes per day. Overall, it dragged on for about a month. Despite being long and exhausting, the process still was fun. However, I won't be drawing anything in graphite pencils anytime soon, that's for sure.

The Little Heartbreakers

My friend David has a son, Levan, who is a couple of years older than my own son, Sandro. Naturally, they are friends, too. So here they are, Levan on the left, Sandro on the right. Both bright-eyed and impossibly cute, they look like brothers. They're like Dean and Sam Winchesters in youth, only cuter than the kids who play them in the show. The little pranks are already breaking a lot of girlie hearts, and I'm sure they won't stop doing that when they grow up.

I drew the boys from the reference photos taken by me last October, during a photo-session for my upcoming project Levan May Cry. For the first time since 1995, I've used only color pencils when drawing -- no ball-points, no graphite, no mechanical pencils. There was quite a gap in the work: Levan was almost entirely finished by the end of October 2009, but Sandro had to wait until a couple of weeks ago, when I finally found time to continue the drawing.

I usually date my artwork when it was started, not when finished, but I decided to make an exception in this case. Thus, The Little Heartbreakers is officially my first artwork dated 2010 -- although actually there is no date on it, because I don't place dates under my new signature. Speaking of, the drawing is also the first one to display my re-branded logo, as you may have noticed.

Two Drops of Bloody Ketchup

Recently I entered a vampire artwork contest at ArtWanted.com with my old Vampiric Self-Portrait (a.k.a. Two Drops of Ketchup). I did it just for fun, never expecting to win anything, but to my big surprise it won the 2nd place! The prize is only 10 bucks (crisis, you know), but I'm still very happy, because it's the first time my artwork reaches such a high place in a contest.

So here it is, my "award-winning" self-portrait, made back in 1996. It's done with color pencils, ball-point pens, gouache and Indian ink on paper. The so-called "blood drops" (by the concept, they are just ketchup drops) were made by using a sort of "action painting" -- I dripped highly diluted red gouache from a distance high enough to cause natural splatters, then I slightly tilted the paper for a second to make the drops run down a bit, and let them dry that way. That's why they look so realistic. Of course, I had to post-process the drops with color pencils and ball-point pens to give them the necessary volume.

As for my face, I didn't have a camera back then, so I used a double mirror to draw myself from life. Very archaic method nowadays, but it works quite well, once you get a knack of it.

Still Life with a Mirror

On a rainy day of my summer vacation in Vilnius I was sitting at Diana's desk, thinking of what to draw. I had my Red Folder with me, where I keep my unfinished drawings, but I wanted to start something new. I was on the edge of frustration, when I incidentally looked at Diana's mirror and was struck by a sudden idea.

I asked Diana to look into the mirror, so that I could catch her glance. That was it! I took a probe shot and started to polish the idea further. I needed to clean up the scene and leave only what was necessary, making it more minimalistic. But I also wanted to bring in some "conceptual elements" that would help convey a certain mood. And that would be a lipstick and a ring.

Diana doesn't wear lipstick, but she still has one. As for the ring, I decided to use something plain and classic. My concept required an evening setting, so I dimmed the window and turned on the table lamp. The next task was to arrange all the objects according to the unwritten rules of any still life composition: looking good together, but with a certain degree of natural randomness.

Now that I had all four elements (the lamp, the lipstick, the ring and the mirror itself) in place, I needed to get the most important, but elusive "fifth element" -- Diana's face in the mirror. After some intensive trial and error, I was finally able to catch her reflection exactly the way I was looking for.

All set, I started to draw using my detailed technique, which takes much time. Naturally, I wasn't able to finish it in one day, and since my vacation was nearing its end, I only had time to do some initial work on the basic elements. Still, it was a start.

I had a pile of work waiting for me when I got back home, as it usually happens after vacation, so I was able to continue the drawing only about a week ago. I finished it yesterday, scanned and sent to Diana, as I always do -- she's my first audience (besides, it was her face in the mirror, after all). She liked it very much, having commented that the "life" in the picture isn't exactly "still," which is definitely a good thing. So here it is, (Not So Very) Still Life with a Mirror, all finished...

I like still lifes that don't just represent some carefully arranged objects, but also tell a small story. Hopefully, Still Life with a Mirror has one of such stories to tell. In my perception, it's about a woman who's getting ready for an evening, planning to go out with her beloved. And if she happens to be your woman, it's a great feeling when you catch her glance in the mirror, as she smiles at you, as if saying: "Aha, you like what you see, don't you?"

The Village Cross

The story behind this drawing had been already recounted in my epic post called Summer in Vilnius, but I can hardly imagine anybody able to read that one through beside myself, Diana and a couple of martyrs who decided to bore themselves to death in the name of art, so here it is in a more exclusive form. Besides, when I was writing that post, the reproduction of the artwork still hadn't been ready for publishing, only some photos where you could see the work in progress and the finished drawing.

The drawing represents a "village cross" in Avižieniai, a rural outskirt of Vilnius. As I wrote before, I had already seen this place during my winter trip to Vilnius, but back then it had been all covered with snow and I had barely noticed it. Now it appeared before me in all its glory, captivating me with its simple beauty and peaceful quietness.

Having noticed my interest, Diana briefly introduced me to the history of this place. There was no church in Avižieniai, so the local community decided to gather the money and build this simple cross as a modest tribute to the Lord. The cross has been surrounded by a short wooden fence with some hydrangeas inside, which at first made me think it was a grave or a memorial of some sorts (here in Georgia the graves are usually surrounded by individual fences, with flowers growing inside, so that was a natural thing to think).

When one of the sunny days of my vacation I decided to draw something in the open air, this beautiful place was the first thing to come to my mind. I was so eager to draw it, that couldn't wait for the proper lighting: the sun wasn't in the right position yet, casting awkward shadows on the cross. I still made a rough sketch just to feel the proportions and "breathe" the atmosphere of this lovely site. Diana was beside me, as always, sharing my enthusiasm, taking some photos and greeting the neighbors curiously passing by.

Later, when the lighting was more suitable for this particular scenery, I came back and took some pictures to be used later as reference: since I had no easel and no place to sit, I couldn't make a detailed drawing in the open air, so I decided to finish the job some other time, at home.

Franciszka, Diana's mother, liked the sketch so much that she asked me to leave it to her, so that she could boast to everyone, what a talented son-in-law she had. But I wanted to leave her something more valuable than a simple sketch on a rough paper, so a few days later I took a sheet of Canson Vivaldi Crème paper, settled in front of Diana's monitor and started drawing a more detailed version of The Village Cross, based on my previous sketch and the reference photos made earlier.

A few hours later the drawing had been finished, but it wasn't quite ready to be given away -- I had to scan it for my website (and this blog) and frame it. Diana's scanner had died on her a long time ago, so we had to go to her work to scan the artwork. Then we went to the framing shop, located in the Old Town of Vilnius, and ordered the frame. It fitted the artwork perfectly, and now I could leave it to Franciszka in a proper state.

That's the whole story behind The Village Cross; I hope you found it interesting. And here's your "reward" for being patient: the scanned artwork itself.

The Purple Haze

The Purple Haze

What do you see
In the haze of her purple night?
Glinting eyes,
Teasing smile shining bright?

What do you smell
In the dark of her purple room?
When she buds
Like her lilac in bloom?

What do you feel
In the bed of her purple rose?
Trembling touch,
The sweet pain as it grows?

What do you hear
At the dawn of her purple day?
Silent voice
That keeps asking "Please stay?"

* * *

I wrote this small poem shortly after finishing the artwork. I was looking at it and the verses began to float in my head, just like that. It's strange, because I don't write poems on regular basis -- I have written a few in my youth, but who hasn't? And they were all in Georgian, so this would be my first poem in English.

Anyway, back to the artwork. It's sort of a commission, only I don't get paid for it -- just an old promise redeemed. My friend, who is the model in this picture and the "client" at the same time, has a thing for lilacs and all related tints and hues, so the color choices were obvious. Since I rarely work with purple and violet, it was a good opportunity to visit that unexplored part of the spectrum and play around. Also, it was my second time with oil pastels -- another virgin soil for me. Thus my enjoyment from the process was doubled.

I chose a bluish-violet pastel paper, very toothed and very hard. Not the best choice for oil pastels, but I like the canvas feel it provides. The size of the paper was another rarity for me -- most of my works don't exceed standard A4 size, and this one makes a whopping (for me, that is) 40 cm square. But, despite the size, the drawing didn't took much time -- the paper was quite dark, so I didn't have to cover all the surface. I managed in two days. The portrait came out a bit darker than most of my other works, and a lot rougher around the edges than my usual style, but I don't complain -- change of pace is always refreshing.

Tamro

It may sound strange, but this simple Ossetian countrywoman was my first guide into the mysterious World of Art. She's my late grandmother's sister, and I often visited her in my childhood days. Back then she was a teacher of drawing at her local village school, and her house was full of art related textbooks and publications. We spent countless evenings just browsing through them and talking about art. I've been drawing pictures since I was knee-high to a grasshopper, but it was those unforgettable evenings that kindled a real flame from the little spark I always carried in my heart.

This portrait is my first attempt in oil pastels. It's been drawn on a toothed pastel paper, which proved to be quite a challenge with this viscid medium. The old lady looks as if she's troubled or in pain, but don't worry -- it's her regular expression due to the permanent facial nerve damage she received in her adolescence. It gives her a unique twisted smile, which I find most heart-warming and adorable.

Easter Levitation

Here it is at long last -- my belated Easter tribute. I intended to finish it for the Orthodox Easter, which fell on the 19th of April this year, but my designer's work interfered, as always.

In the picture there are four levitating objects, associated with Easter. The first one is a buxus leaf (in Georgia we use buxus instead of palm branches); below it there is a chalice from which the red wine is pouring down, painting an Easter egg; at the bottom you can see a slice of paska -- a sweet bread with raisins, traditionally prepared at Easter in Georgia.

Her Childish Smile

The most amazing thing about my personal witch (and the main source of my inspiration) is her smile, which makes her look like a teenager, although she's already in her thirties. The portrait is drawn on aquarel paper with sanguine (Conté crayons). Later this year I'm planning to make a whole series of sanguine drawings, called The Mornings After, so this could be considered as a warm-up before the match.