When the crystalized sheet was lifted back from the cavity, there was a coiled hose with yellow and smooth mussels popping up and around the coils. These mussels were also anchoring on the segmented worm squirming its way down the slide.
Artist’s Interpretation Key:
- Cavity = abdominal
- Crystalized sheet = omentum
- The coiled hose = intestines [small and large (transverse colon)]
- The mussels = epiploica (fat deposits)
- Segmented worm = teniae coli
- The slide = sigmoid colon
FUN FACT: the small intestine stretches out to ~20 feet long!
I decided to sketch in ballpoint pen because I tend to work in really small scale and ballpoint pen is usually the perfect tool for working from general to specific detail because of its capability allowing diverse line weight in a 3 layered sketching system:
- Mapping and measuring proportions with perspective lines and angles (lightest line weight)
- Confirming and defining structures by using more gestural approaches (medium line weight)
- Refining and unifying the drawing by adding details and defining contours (heaviest line weight)
Ballpoint pen also allows me to see my mistakes in proportions or line direction and use harder lines to correct the inaccuracies. Ink establishes permanence and doesn’t give me the chance to use an eraser as a crutch.
I learned of the importance of the ballpoint pen medium through readings by Jason Franz.
With my human anatomy exam over the skull and cranial nerves, I use drawing as a studying device. Drawing guides and maps of the human anatomy help me better understand the intertwining routes of 12 motor and/or sensory cranial nerves that control the five senses: seeing, smelling, hearing, feeling, and tasting.
Sketch completed 3.20.18
Some time ago, perhaps precisely when time was beginning to develop gross motor skills, my younger brother (in this bit aged 14 years old), a certain Herzog, a certain Shepard, and yours truly found ourselves meekly, outside one of the many mansions of Sir Chuck E. Cheese of North-East Ohio. A moat of concrete, stained with memories of pizza-pukes passed, reflected off what I recall as darkened glass windows. Windows through which one can see little of the interior with a face pressed forcefully against, faint suggestions of a red tube, a yellow ball, a chrome plate, a dull employee. Through which, with any distance, one can only see a frank reflection. Acned, ached, strung out and desperate: at the cusp of adulthood and still in denial.
My brother looked young, passing perhaps for 12. A tween! Tweens are permitted to enter Chuck E. Cheese, we figured. He didn’t require a bribe to come out with us. He foolishly worshipped me, making all my interests his interests, as younger brothers tend to do. Shepard and I had been wistful for Chuck E. Cheese for months at that point, he on an animatronic kick and us both on a nostalgia trip I don’t think we’ll ever really think ourselves out of. Herzog, I hoped, would perform some chaos magic and provide an intellectual framework to better digest the experience.
The employee seated behind what I recall as red velvet ropes and a black, Doric column, hardly let us through. His lips curled up, his curls lipped greasy upon a spongey forehead. Sticky, stagnant sweat pooled in the deep creases of his disapproval. Dust particles illuminated briefly in high noon as Herzog made his way in. He forced the door closed, forced a breath, tripped on the plush red carpet. The employee brushed his brow with a saturated hanky.
Though his disgust, he managed out that no we are not permitted to play any games, and, no, animatronic shows only occur between noon and two on weekends or scheduled events. I gestured to my brother, hoping his presence may justify ours. He scowled.
Quarantined to the pizza cafeteria, Shepard ordered a slice. We sat on greasy seats and watched him. No children laughed. Arcade machines cried out for purpose. A few thuds were heard in the ball pit, then silence. Chuck, propped on his brady stand, looked through the floor. Glassy-eyed and soft lidded, he averted our gaze in shame. His tail between his legs. Jaw locked, teeth pushed hard and pressurizing the temples. He moved quietly to unplug himself.
I am enrolled in a Human Anatomy Lab this semester and was just tested over the intrinsic hand, hip and leg muscles. Our exams are set up as practicals and we go around station-to-station naming random muscles, nerves, arteries, or veins tagged on models, microscopes, or cadavers.
I find it most useful in my studies to draw from the cadavers and then clearly contour and label each muscle I should know. I believe the act of drawing enhances my attentiveness and observation while studying, allowing me to thoroughly understand where each muscle originates and inserts in the composition of the body.
Working from cadavers exposes you to a plethora of textures. Because these bodies are in the process of decomposition, cadavers show a variety of textures. To me, cadavers look like they are in the process of fading away. I wanted to show this process of fading away in watercolor. These watercolors portray the idea of the body fading into its environment.
During Thursdays lab, we got an overview of the function of the leg. It was falling apart, which made it difficult to figure out where to start. I had restarted drawing the leg 2 times during this lab visit. The most interesting parts to me about the leg is how pearl like the knee was. I also was interested in the danglees from the back of the calf. I had them in mind when painting with watercolors this week with creating those string-like muscles into these creatures bodies. I’m not sure what they are or there function yet, but their heads resemble some of the animals skulls we’ve seen and the life and science lab.
On Thursday’s trip to the Osteopathic College of Medicine, we had an overview of the anatomy of the leg and hand in the cadaver lab. There are so many different layers of muscles in the leg doing specific actions to create one whole movement of the limb. I like this shredded set-up of the bent knee as the cut muscles, veins, fascia, nerves, and arteries are dangling from the architecture of the bent knee, almost like a chandelier.
If I had more time, I would’ve gotten more into the hand. The hand is a very important and defining structure of the human body and I would love to identify the overlaying extrinsic and intrinsic muscles of the hand through the drawing process.
P.S. Perceptive Prosections Update: Our group of artists has been accepted to present their work in the Student Exposition on April 12! Excited to share our ideas and progressing work towards a stronger STEAM curriculum in the Fine Arts and Biological Sciences!
P.S.S. Making stickers from some of our sketches soon, be on the look out for this sale!