June 6, 1944

 Today is the 69th anniversary of the D-Day Invasion of Normandy. 

Until last summer, this day didn't mean much to me, other than one more date I learned in history classes in school. I always liked history (thank you, parents), but I had such a hard time accepting the reality of war that I had to brush it off before it hit me too hard - I don't do well with violence. We learned about all this fighting and ugliness that happened years ago on another continent, and it is so easy to stay disconnected - until you go there yourself.

At the Caen Memorial

It's impossible to ignore the history of WWII when living in Normandy. It's everywhere - not just in France, but all over Europe. Especially in Normandy though, there is so much to absorb about D-Day.  I got a chance to visit the Pegasus Bridge Memorial, the American WWII cemetery, and the Caen Memorial - which actually goes through WWI to the present. But actually being there was more powerful than anything.

I walked across the original Pegasus Bridge, where the first minutes of the D-Day invasion took place.

I stood over Omaha Beach and looked up and down the coast at the other landing beaches.

I walked through the crosses and Stars of David in the American cemetery.

This tiny glimpse of the war was overwhelming and it's still shaking me a year later. I'm still processing it, it's still heavy, and I know I'll never fully grasp the reality of it all, but I'm connected to it more than I was before.

The British 6th Airborne Division fought at Pegasus Bridge

Even though I didn't want to look at the gruesome photos in the museums or read the staggering statistics from the war, I knew I had to. I didn't want to take the easy way out and ignore it or distract myself - I wanted to respect the sacrifice made all those years ago and offer my own salute to the soldiers and the countries involved. I didn't care how hard it was for me to look, it was infinitely more difficult for them, and I needed to acknowledge that.

As much as I enjoy history, I didn't visit these places entirely for myself - that was only the tiniest of reasons. I looked and listened and learned and cried for them: for those who had to face it, for those who survived, and most importantly for those who didn't. I payed attention because this history is part of our history and if we don't stop to acknowledge it and say "thank you," then we might forget.

"Nous n'oublions pas, nous n'oublierons jamais, la dette d'infinie gratitude que nous avons contractée envers ceux qui ont tout donne pour notre libération."

-René Coty, president of the Republic of France

We don't forget, we could never forget, the debt of infinite gratitude that we have toward those who gave everything for our liberation.

Salute

Finally, A Carousel

One of the girls I work with asked me to do this drawing for her. It took me a long time to actually start it, since I knew it would be one of the more challenging assignments I've done. Plus when I draw for someone else, it's so different because I can't just throw it away and draw something else if I don't like it. SO, that said, I think I'm happy with the result, although I've gotten to the point where I can't even see it as a picture anymore after looking at it for so long. But it's now in someone else's home, so I can let it go!

Here is the original picture I took when I was in Paris, pretty huh? Now try drawing it.

I don't always sketch in pencil first, but I needed to lay out the picture carefully this time

 

Then, because I was nervous to start with the pastels, I tried "underpainting" with colored pencils. Which didn't really do much since the pastels covered it completely, but it gave me a chance to see how the colors would work out.

And now it was just a matter of STARTING. When I showed my mom this picture, she pointed out that I was in the "awkward phase" which made me laugh. It's so true.

Keep coloring, Hil, you'll get there eventually.

So close...

Et voila:

So, it was a good challenge, although the carousel was harder than I wanted it to be. But at least I tried drawing something other than Rodin statues, right?

xo

Create

It's been a hectic couple of weeks in my neck of the woods. I've had to be an extrovert at work, which is so incredibly draining after six days of people, people, people! But thankfully, things are calming down and I'm returning to my quiet corners. 

My roommate is out of the country for the month, so home is extra quiet these days. This week, instead of turning on the tv when I sit to eat dinner, I've been reading Wild (ohmygosh read it) and listening to music (Damien Rice/Amos Lee/Civil Wars Pandora, all are excellent). Then I've been giving myself the rest of the evening to sketch. I read an article once about a study on stress levels and television. They found that stress levels didn't decrease after watching television, but stayed the same. So according to science, sitting down to "relax and watch tv" doesn't always have the effect we hope for. Interesting, huh?

I finished a drawing for one of my friends this week (photos to come!), and I've been working on smaller-scale drawings in between. I love working on huge paper, but it's not always as practical as a 11x14 sketchbook. 


Yes, we've seen this one before, but I drew it again, this time smaller and in different colors. I love the dust from the pastels, but it's always strange how flat the paper actually is once I shake it all off...outside, of course.

Finished and sprayed (the fixative I'm using darkens some of my colors...ugh)

Protective, isn't she?

The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this: A human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive. To him... a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death. Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create -- so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him. He must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency he is not really alive unless he is creating. [Pearl S. Buck]

This sculpture was also from the Rodin museum: Eve, 1881, bronze. The photo I took has a lot of glare because of the angle, so it's a tough one to draw, but it was still good practice. A bit rough, but it's about the process, right Leeana?

Trusting the process means tolerating imperfection. [Leeana Tankersley]

I've done this one before too, but not for a while. I needed something familiar and relatively simple, and hands are fun for me.

That is the great art of life, a mysterious collage of unexpected elements. Even today, we are putting down our layers, one beside another, creating and recreating ourselves. He is making everything beautiful in its time. While we wait, we must breathe and heal and grieve and become. We don’t see the beauty immediately, but as we look back, we find the art in and through it all. [Found Art, LeeanaTankersley]

xoxo

 

Crouching Woman [in progress]

I've drawn Crouching Woman before (here), but this time I wanted to try it a little closer to the colors in my photo from the Rodin museum. I tried to document each step as I went. Looking at a photo of a drawing helps me see it as a whole since I spend enough time staring at it with pastels in my hand...it's hard to really see it after a while.

Rough sketch

My paper is white, I swear

I suppose this is similar to under painting--this way there isn't white paper showing through anywhere

Highlights and shadows

I started getting a little left-brained--I had to step back and take a break.

 And finally...

I still think the black and white is my favorite version, but I'm happy with how this one turned out. I liked using the teals and browns, although I was way less patient with the face/hands/feet this time. Mais, c'est la vie. It doesn't have to hang in a museum, and I enjoyed the process, so I'm content.

Maybe one of these days I'll expand my subject matter to something other than pictures from the Rodin museum...

Mont Saint Michel Part Deux

Okay here we go. Apart from the main church, I don't remember what all the rooms are. Most of the tour involved just wandering around and listening to recordings at each room. So for the most part, we were on our own to go where we wanted at our own pace. The group of students stuck together, so I just went through the abbey by myself, obviously taking pictures of everything.

Love those arches

Michael slaying the dragon

Hey there's the top again

I wish I had more pictures of the rest of the town, but walking down those steep hills/cobblestones was difficult enough in the rain, I was just focused on not falling or getting an eye poked out by an umbrella.

Mont Saint Michel is one of the most-visited sites in France, after Paris of course, so there were people everywhere, but it wasn't horribly overwhelming. After leaving the abbey, I walked down the main road and stopped in a couple shops to get out of the rain and buy some postcards, then made my way back to the bus.

This day is right up there with my days in Paris. And I just found out that one of the Tour de France stages is ending at Mont St. Michel this summer - I'm curious to see how that goes...

xo