There is so much more behind my being mesmerized by Natasha Ramsay-Levi’s face that transcends the surface. Found in W Magazine’s Volume 4 2018 issue, I then went online to find out more about the photographer Paolo Roversi. Within the bio I’d located, I learned that Roversi’s first assignment for the AP was to cover Ezra Pound’s funeral – which alone is an auspicious start for a photographer’s journey. And in her position as creative director for Chloé, Ramsay-Levi has brought some extraordinary and admirable views and visions…
Photo by Paolo Roversi
My colored pencil depiction from the above:
Twenty years or so [gulp!] had passed since my occasional forays with life drawing groups. Three weeks ago I decided to delve in again after finding a group here in Mystic. This prospect was not without a fair amount of personal fear… Yet, the members of this group, who are all quite talented and skilled individuals? They made me feel not only made me welcome and [very much needed] encouraged! And for last night’s session, I brought my own box of colors along. From the image here, you can see I ditched my graphite pencils mid-way and went bananas with the colors.
From a Rossettiesque photo by Peter Lindbergh, a Galliano gown is featured. I liked the near weariness in the model’s pose. And while the original photo [featured in Vogue, I believe] had her set against dark greens and what looked like ivy growing from the ground, I chose to add a bed of Iris instead. As my own Iris is now in bloom, will I follow them?
There is an adorable model who is not entirely depicted in this piece. And when I searched on photographer Marc de Groot’s online portfolio to look for her name, it couldn’t be found… But it was her hands that I loved most. Me, being me, I took some liberties with both her hair and the corset she wore. Maybe I should be calling her “Little Peacock”?
*Also, a thanks to the inspired work of Mr Barry Blitt!
“I’m so cold!” Even though Winter had transitioned finally to Spring, those three words had incessantly repeated in my mind. Half of my apartment is below ground – with little to insulate me from the rock it is built upon. My hands remained rigid, posing a problem in carrying out detailed paintings. So, the cold became a muse of sorts. Colored pencils occupied me until a new heater arrived. And my sanity, somewhat restored!