An amateur in the land of aspiring professionals

29 June 2017MusicMichaël Samyn

From 29 May to 5 June 2017 I attended the Guitar Festival in Koblenz, Germany, a 4 hour train ride away from my home in Ghent, Belgium. I originally intended to simply sit in on masterclasses passively but the organizers assured me that the festival welcomes students of all levels. While I never felt unwelcome, as far as I have seen, I was the only student with such a low level. I have been studying the classical guitar for four years now, through weekly evening classes, but most -if not all but myself- festival attendees were young conservatory students who have been playing since early childhood. I asked one of them how long they had been playing guitar. “Twenty-one years,” they said. “How old are you?” “Twenty-five.”

The teacher in my first masterclass set me at ease by pointing out that I was an amateur, meaning a lover, of the classical guitar. True enough, I have no ambitions of becoming a professional musician. And most of these conservatory kids most definitely do. So any comparison is not even fair. “At least I’m not an adolescent boy,” I reassured myself.

Still, it was quite nerve-racking to participate in masterclasses with Hans-Werner Huppertz, Dale Kavanagh and Hubert Käppel. I seriously considered skipping the class each and every time. I already have considerable issues with performing in public. And I didn’t really see the point of confronting these master players with my amateurism at this stage. But in the end I thought of it almost as a joke, or a challenge or provocation for the maestros: let’s see what you can do with an amateur like this! In the end, though, each of the masterclasses turned out to be a very nice encounter and left me encouraged and inspired.

Next to actively participating in masterclasses I also sat in on classes with other students. That was almost as interesting, if not more. And most of what you will find below is based on these sessions. Next to the ones of the musicians mentioned above, I also sat in on masterclasses by Pavel Steidl and Marcin Dylla. And I saw some of the competition contestants perform and attended concerts by Marcin Dylla, Pavel Steidl, Pepe Romero, Scott Tennant, Manuel Barrueco and the Beijing Guitar Duo, and David Russell. Marcin Dylla made me cry. Lots.

What follows is a summary of the many things I have learned at the Koblenz Guitar Festival (and that will take me years to integrate in my practice), arranged according to subject and with the sources omitted to improve readability. Several master players addresssed related topics. So their words complement each other.

INTERPRETATION

The score.

The score used to be just a reminder of the music. It was not intended as a prescription.
Initially accept everything written by the composer, except if it is a misprint. And try to find out what happens when played exactly.
Figure out what the character of the music is. Is it sad? Brutal? Dignified? That is the primary question.
Not everything is written in the score. Especially dynamics can feel rather random. Feel free to change them according to your own feeling.

Opening.

The first chord decides how people will listen. The first chord draws people in. Play the first chord with gravity. Open your ears and draw people in from the first moment.
The first note of a piece should always be longer.

Phrasing.

Think of the dynamics in music as waves. A crescendo does not need to be linear. Chords succeed each other as waves of tension and release.
Forte does not mean simply playing loud. Let the volume grow. When building a long crescendo, start silently, go up and then take back a bit. A crescendo in steps feels lighter. Crescendo can mean playing piano for a long time and ending with a loud note. Sometimes the top of a phrase can be piano. Practically, on the guitar, a long note can never be pianissimo because it will not ring long enough.
Sometimes you can make a crescendo in warmth or beauty, rather than volume.
Combine crescendo with accelerando, decrescendo with ritenuto.
Play a wind instrument to learn about breathing between phrases.

Tempo.

Support tension with tempo changes. Rubato is okay in old music too.
If you repeat something more than three times you need to change the tempo to avoid monotony.
In romantic music, Dolce implies a change in tempo.
Activate rests by thinking “and”.
Think of the chord on the first beat of a bar as the result of the previous bar.
When Bach writes a bow, the last note is played short. In general, for Bach, short notes are better. But be careful not to make them sound funny or ironic.
The last note before a group of fast notes needs to be played faster.

Accents.

When there’s a surprising change in the music, show the note. Dissonances should ring a little longer. Pronounce the most tense chord more, through arpeggio. But don’t exaggerate broken chords. Avoid the kitschy harp effect.
On a rhythmical accent, pronounce the note longer. Rubato can be used to create accents.
You don’t always need to bring out the melody. Sometime that sounds too heavy.
Shape the bass note, don’t let it ring as part of the harmony in polyphonic music.

TECHNIQUE

Simplify.

Fingering doesn’t matter if you have a musical idea. Just choose the easiest. Make the left hand fingering easy and compensate for musicality in right hand intonation. Simplify unimportant bass chords and bring out the melody. If you have too much trouble with the fingering, remove one note from the chord.
Sometimes you can simulate legato by letting overtones ring. This is often easier, more relaxed and more musical.
The melody may be played on multiple strings.
Use slurs as a technical solution for fingering. Triplets are more exciting and clear with slurs from the first to the second note.

Energy.

Play efficiently. Use the right amount of energy. When you lift a finger move it to the place you’ll need it next.
Relax the hand immediately after arpeggio.

Volume.

To play Forte push the string deeper. Stress the string first, release in the highest tension. Pretend you’re playing apuyando when playing tirando.
Don’t try to get from the guitar what’s not there. Be careful to not exceed the instrument’s capacity when playing Forte.
On the guitar, playing too loud is a bigger problem than too silent. Loud guitar playing can sound dirty (which is fine in Flamenco but not in classical music).

Right hand technique.

Have the resting thumb follow the playing fingers so they always attack with the same angle. If thumb stays on E, for example, different strings will sound differently because of the different angle.
The three fingers produce different sounds. We need to figure out how to make them sound similar to each other. Different fingers may need different nail shapes. But also different angles. Get to know your hand, and the differences between your fingers.
Tremolo is just an arpeggio with a balanced sound.
Always have your right hand fingers come out immediately after playing. Don’t keep the fist closed. The finger joints have to behave like mechanical springs.
To play chords on the treble strings, hold the fingers close together. To make one string louder, slightly extend the corresponding finger.

Left hand technique.

The left hand is important because it’s controlled by the right hand side of the brain, the creative side. The right hand is controlled by the mathematical part of the brain. We can think of the left hand as the hand of the piano player, the artistic element, and of the right hand as the piano hammer, the mechanical element.
To get the right tension in the left hand, pretend you’re holding an orange or an egg that you can’t break.
You can move to the comfortable position gradually, by finger walking, rather than shifting quickly. Compensate for color differences between positions.

Shifting & glissando.

A position shift creates an accent, so avoid shifting when an accent is undesirable.
When shifting, lift fingers on bass strings, to avoid scratch sounds. But keep the fingers on the treble strings for stability and legato. Slide with more flesh and push harder to avoid scratches. You can cheat on a shift by making legato on only one note.
A glissando does not need to be linear: speed up at the end and add pressure. No need to hit every fret.

POSTURE

Don’t hold the guitar too high because a high hand requires more energy.
To find the right position, open your arms and close them so you hold the guitar like baby in your arms.
Move the whole body forward when playing vibrato.
Change body positions throughout the piece. Act out different roles to embody the emotions. Assume irregular poses where they fit the expression.
Look up when you go to the first beat, like coming up from under the water.
You need to feel the vibration of the guitar in your body. Hear the resonance.

NAILS

A nail shape that follows the round shape of the fingertip allows for attacking the string from all sides of the fingertip.
Try to play apuyando with same hand position as tirando. This doesn’t work when nails are too long.
You create lower overtones with the flesh of the fingers.

TONE

Imagination.

When you play only think about the sound, not the fingers. Our imagination makes the sound. More than your nails and such. Your sound will never be more beautiful than you can imagine. To change the sound, change the imagination.
Do a sound search until you find the feeling.
Pretend you’re a cellist. Especially with melody in the bass. This helps legato flow more.
Think of how wonderful the guitar can sound.
You have to force your imagination to a higher level.

Right Hand.

Modern guitarists rarely play apuyando these days. Most sounds can be achieved through tirando.
Different attacks correspond to sounds the voice makes: staccato tirando produces the sound i (ee), staccato tenuto sounds like a (ah) and staccato apuyando is o (ow).
Use your entire arm to attack the string. As an experiment, try to make the sound starting with the right arm stretched out sideways behind your body, circle up towards the string and attack. Then make smaller circles with the arm. Like moving through water. Then, with the same feeling, play with the arm resting on the guitar, Then only from the shoulder. Then only from elbow. Then just from the wrist.
You need to feel the tension of the string before the sound. A guitar is like bow, You need energy to shoot.

Left Hand.

We can also help articulate the sound with the left hand. While pressing the string, put pressure on the fretboard after playing a note, with the weight of your arm. The weight of the arm can produce much more beautiful sound than energy can. Make circles with the elbow and hear how the sound changes. This helps the guitar sing. You can move your torso forward when you do this. Without actually changing the pitch! It’s not vibrato. You can make the sound swell by adding pressure. And on the highest pressure, you can add vibrato.
Always use vibrato, always make the guitar sing, if only for projection. But only start the vibrato when the sounds stops growing. Then the vibrato reanimates the sound somewhat, extending the note.
A secure left hand improves the sound.
Move the guitar after plucking to manipulate the sound.

PRACTICE

Fast passages.

In general, practicing slowly is good. But if the music ultimately needs to be played fast, like tremolo for instance, it’s a bad idea. You make different motions when you practice slowly. You study walking, not running. But if the passage needs to run, you need to study running motions. When you play slowly you can make motions that are not possible when playing fast. When playing fast your motions become more relaxed because they are smaller.
To practice fast arpeggios, divide the passage in small parts and start playing them as unarpeggiated chords with long pauses in between. Start with only the right hand on open strings. It takes longer to learn both simultaneously. Then slow down the arpeggios and decrease the length of pauses. Then you make the correct movement, without excess.
Always try to put as many fingers as possible on the strings beforehand. That makes the motion smaller.
Play with the right hand only until it feels easy. Then, practice slowly to coordinate with the left hand. Since you’ve practiced with the right hand correctly, it will do the right motions, even when playing slowly.
Practice this on piano level. Dynamics are extra work. You only need to learn the motions at first.

Research.

Just repeating something is a waste of time. Experiment with different fingerings until you find the easiest. You can always change fingerings later. The brain can learn this easily when you’re familiar with the piece.
Change approach during practice. Don’t just repeat. When you played a phrase well figure out how to you did it instead of repeating over and over. By listening to your own experimentation you enter the zone: open your ears to hear the connection.
Find phrases that create tension by exaggerating slowly.
Play the first chord in five different ways to find the one you like. Just play the first two chords. That’s your whole world.
Try to sing the overtones. Breathe abdominal. Sing along with the string, modulate your voice to find the overtones. Put energy in the note.

Memorization.

Memorization includes phrasing.
Speak along with the melody -by saying the note names for instance- to help concentrate on the music when playing for others.
You should figure out the right hand fingering beforehand, including which string the thumb will rest on.
The fingers will do what you want but they need to know what you want.
Observe yourself.
Recording yourself is your best teacher.
Play around with left hand motions in a mirror.

Organization.

Practice each part until it becomes easy. Set goals for a few bars at a time. But also play the piece fully every day to retain an overview. Make sure to end every practice session with satisfaction.
Practice from the end to the beginning. So later when playing the whole piece you find security.
If you practice more than 3 hours per day, you’re doing something wrong. Be concentrated.
And also study and think without the guitar. With score and guitar. With score without guitar. Without score with guitar. Without guitar without score.
Do the hard part 20 times every day for a couple of months.
Take your time in details. Don’t go too fast. Sometimes it’s better to practice a few passages instead of the whole page.
Play the melody separately to shape the phrase. And then try to keep the phrasing when the rest is added.
Don’t hurry towards difficult pieces. Playing a piece of level 3 on level 10 is better than playing a piece of level 10 on level 3.

Rhythm.

Practice the chords first without arpeggios because they affect the rhythm. First make sure you play in time.
Body movement is better than a metronome. Sing or speak the rhythm as you play.

Exercise to avoid squeaks.

Walk on 4th or 5th string while skipping a fret with thumb and index finger, and prepare to mute. Move the elbow when changing positions, while the finger is relaxed.

Technique.

To play guitar you need arpeggios, scales and slurs, in that order. Practice them for hours.
Arpeggio practice is relaxing for the right hand. It takes no effort.

PERFORMANCE

Personal observations.

It’s not attractive when it the player seems to be having difficulty. Apparent ease is more important than playing correctly.
Passion is attractive. Some musicians seem to be able to convert their nervousness into energy, or even aggression if it is appropriate for the piece or a passage.
Playing silently on stage is an act of courage. When done well, the audience will become very quiet in order to hear.
Some players have a little routine before they start playing, to help concentration. Others prepare very little. Maybe they become concentrated while tuning between pieces. Or they find their concentration in the first notes. They find peace in the music, they settle any nerves in the sound.
Ending a piece with a bang provokes applause.
Maestros make music feel important. Students are just going through the motions.

EPILOGUE

I have learned a lot about playing the classical guitar during one intense week. This will keep me going for several months, if not years. But I have also seen a darker side of the classical guitar world.

Many students, and even some masters, seem to approach learning to play as a kind of sport. They want to achieve. Things are categorized in levels, as in a game. They treat scores like puzzles to solve. A lot of the work they do seems to involve mindless practice.

Perhaps this correlates with the bad visual aesthetic taste I have observed in many musicians. Their music isn’t born from an artistic sensibility. (How could it? They are too young, they start too early, like sports people.) There’s a certain rather well defined way the guitar is supposed to be played and they learn it. This includes rules about interpretation as well as technique. Maybe working like this is required to reach the high level of the superstars. But many seem to get stuck in this competitive mindset and never actually become artists.

The few that do, however, the few that manage to create art on the instrument, sounds that move the heart, are immensely inspiring. They make music feel exciting. Their enthusiasm is infectious. It’s hard to believe that their attitude grew out of the rather sports-like training that seems to be the norm.

The master players do insist time and again that it’s about music, it’s about art, it’s about emotions. But they don’t seem to have a method to transfer this concept to the students. Classical guitar technique is so difficult that students are almost forced to ignore the artistic aspects in favor of continuously improving their technical skills, playing by the rules.

This makes me happy that I’m just an amateur. I can take my time to explore the sound that the instrument makes. Of course I want to play Asturias or Recuerdos or Chaconne one day. But not at the expense of creating beauty. And there’s a lot of beauty in much simpler music.

~~Rant against the popularity of double top guitars.~~

―Michaël Samyn.

The Unreal Forest: step 3

19 May 2017Development Log, The Endless ForestMichaël Samyn

We have implemented some new features in what will one day be the glorious remake of The Endless Forest in Unreal. Some of these can be seen in the video below, taken in the Unreal editor in a local multiplayer session.

The deer now brakes or even sometimes stumbles and falls after running a certain distance. Similarly it now also stretches after sleeping for a long time. And when it is standing idle it will bite its side or scratch its ear once in a while. All of these make the avatar feel much more alive. We have also implemented point-and-click navigation. And have taken the opportunity to smooth out the deer’s motion. We have added the emblematic black border around the screen. For now the only thing it does is scale up when the deer assumes its new alert stance. And finally we have added the logic for the deer to know if any other deer are near, illustrated by the new sniffing functionality.

We’re concentrating on the avatar for the moment because it’s a major part of the game (and a lot of fun to see the deer come alive). But also because it’s something we can do without requiring much network functionality – we’re still hoping that networking (especially the server part) will be made easier in an Unreal update during development.

We have now officially prioritized the remake of The Endless Forest above all other projects. That doesn’t mean other projects will not happen (they certainly will) but that we will not allow them to interrupt work on The Endless Forest. We are still figuring out how to do game development without falling into all the unhealthy traps we experienced before we quit the industry. We’re not giving ourselves deadlines anymore. And we’re allowing ample time for non-professional activities (art and music, most notably). As a result, we will not be producing output with the same hectic frequency as we did before (8 game releases in 12 years!). But our dedication is more sincere than ever.

We will continue to update you on our progress. But if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask (in the comments below, or via email or Twitter).

The Endless Forest fundraiser is gradually collecting the remainder of the budget. We’re only 2331 Euros short of a complete remake.

—Michaël & Auriea

Synthetic Image research in April

25 April 2017Diary, The Synthetic Image research projectMichaël Samyn

Apart from a delightful visit to the National Gallery in London which allowed me to study especially the work of Carlo Crivelli, not much happened this month. I have abandoned the Blender tutorial about modeling a human figure because it felt useless. In an attempt to understand the style of the Old Masters better, I did model a face based on the wonderful Portrait of a Young Woman by Petrus Christus. But while the exercise was useful for technical reasons, I didn’t make me much wiser artistically.

This month I experienced a rather intense “crisis of faith” caused primarily by the realization that I am involved in way too many projects to actually get any satisfying results in any of them. These are all rather elaborate projects and given that I am approaching the age of half a century, I decided to prioritize and focus.

A major factor in my choice of priorities is the contrast between the considerable know-how that I have already acquired and my desire to learn new things. It would be wasteful to not apply and deepen the skills I possess in favor of becoming an amateur at something new (like 3D modeling). Of course working with computers implies a certain level of continuous learning. But I want to stop trying to do everything in favor of actually getting something done.

I have realized that, while I enjoy research and study, not actually creating and working towards a release frustrates me immensely. And it causes a vicious circle where research increasingly feels like it is holding me back, rather than informing creation. Having a multitude of things on my mind renders it unclear what I should be doing next. The result is in fact very often procrastination, to escape the insecurity I presume. But given the overload of work, of course losing time only aggravates the problem.

I still intend to create the diorama of the Archangel Michael, but I will attempt to do so applying mostly skills that I already possess. After all, the goal of this project is to create a scene that encourages contemplation, in the way of the art of the Old Masters, and not for me to learn how to model better. I think I possess enough know-how to make something interesting. And the research that I have been doing, especially of Old Master art, will allow me to redirect this know-how towards this new goal.

So far my creative life has been focused on things that bring joy to others. But as the age of fifty approaches, the importance of things that bring me joy is growing. They started as hobbies vital to my mental balance while creating for others, and also inspiring creatively. But I feel that half a century of working for other people earns me the right to indulge myself a little in the time I have left. So yes, I will continue to learn music and practice classical guitar, and I will devote more time to projects that I feel especially passionate about, even if they may not be of any use to anybody else.

Ironically, having a much clearer structure in my life, and a sense of priorities, may end up being the only way to actually make all of the things on my list anyway. In my experience, creative satisfaction in one project can motivate and inspire others. While lack of focus reduces the possibility any creative output at all.

With many projects going on simultaneously, it’s easy to become cynical. I may deeply care for all of them but when they don’t live up to my expectations, as a direct result of spreading my energy thin, I lose courage. Dedication will allow me to pay attention to all aspects of a project. Not just the broad strokes. And I think that can be highly rewarding.

The main focus with Tale of Tales has been on the medium of videogames. Each one of our creations was a stepping stone, an experiment in a different direction, to see what could happen there with that medium. We were dedicated to that exploration more than to any project in particular. And while that is perfectly understandable in such an under-explored context, it doesn’t necessarily make for the best possible art.

While in Brussels for a classical guitar festival, I noticed that the top of city hall is decorated with a golden Archangel Michael. So I leave you with this image search result page that inspires the next step in the project.

— Michaël Samyn.

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An Italian Primitive in London

21 April 2017The Synthetic Image research projectMichaël Samyn

The National Gallery in London was on my list of places to visit for The Synthetic Image research project because I wanted to see Carlo Crivelli’s picture of Saint Michael, of which I have studied a reproduction in detail. As always, of course, there were many other works to enjoy as well. But also one disconcerting experience.

An entire wing of the museum is filled with paintings from the era that I’m most interested in. The Sainsbury Wing to the side of the main building on Trafalgar Square is dedicated to paintings from 1200 to 1500. Room 59 is almost exclusively devoted to the work of Carlo Crivelli. Crivelli is a bit of an exception in the reference collection for The Synthetic Image project, and indeed Cathedral-in-the-Clouds as a whole. Most of the project is inspired by the work of Flemish Primitives but Crivelli is Italian. Yet it’s difficult to imagine he wouldn’t have been familiar with the work of Van Eck and Van der Weyden. There are very strong correlations in terms of subject matter, aesthetic style and expression. But Crivelli adds a nice dose of Italy in the mix. So much so that when I entered the gray room in the museum I couldn’t help but feel that the golden masterpieces really belong in a sunnier climate.

Many of Crivelli’s works are altarpieces. The National Gallery displays the gilded woodwork that frames one of them. It made me wonder about the craftspeople responsible for this marvelous aspect of the work. Especially the many three-dimensional elements in Crivelli’s paintings create a strong connection with the frames.

Saint Michael is displayed within its frame as well. But sadly not in the complete altarpiece it once belonged to, even though three other parts of this altarpiece are on display in the same room. Being in its physical presence allowed me to answer some questions I had when perusing the photographic reproduction. The headband of the angel is indeed three-dimensional, for instance, with what looks like a real gem on his forehead. But I also experienced something a lot less enjoyable.

Nothing. I felt nothing when I saw Crivelli’s Saint Michael in the flesh. I had made myself so thoroughly familiar with a reproduction of the piece that the real thing felt closed to me. I guess I usually “open up” artworks by exploring them. Looking at different elements and interpreting them functions as the opening of windows and doors, or as removing layers of clothing. Bit by bit the artwork allows me to enter, and I am transported. But with Saint Michael I had already done a lot of this work at home, albeit not with the same aesthetic effect. So I guess my mind was like “Been there done that”. I have similar feelings for the Mona Lisa or the Nike of Samothrace. I don’t seem to be able to see those very famous works of art. I look at them and nothing happens, no matter how hard I try.

This reminded me of an essay that I read a long time ago, when postmodern thinking had made it pertinent again in the 1980s. In The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction (published in 1935), Walter Benjamin talks about an aura that surrounds physical objects and that seems to be affected by photographing them. The more photographs are taken of something, the less impressive it becomes. Or that’s at least what my young mind got out of the essay. I’ll reread it one of these days.

Ironically the reason why we were able to go to London this time was to speak at a symposium about the preservation of digital art organized by Rhizome and Google Arts & Culture. The latter, of course, is deeply involved in meticulously photographing and distributing mechanical reproductions of art and museums. As an art fan, I applaud this to some extent, but my experience with Saint Michael and Walter Benjamin’s observation do make me wonder if they are not basically destroying all art.

Luckily there were many other Crivelli’s in the room. And even in their dry London presentation (compared to the drama of the Crivelli room in the Pinacoteca di Brera), being able to explore these works in person is always a feast. Strangely I had discovered Crivelli’s work only a few years ago. Somehow he doesn’t belong to the cannon that is taught in art school. And his work does indeed not fit very easily in the nicely linear story that art history often tries to be. It’s very clear to see why, though. Art history has a tendency to elevate masters from the past whose work displays some relationship with modern art. The golden, mystical atmosphere of Crivelli with his grumpy saints and refined lines and postures isn’t exactly the kind of stuff that would have inspired Cézanne or Manet. Although surely the surrealists must have adored the strange gherkins and apples that randomly populate almost all of Crivelli’s pieces.

Next to the typical depictions of saints and virgins for polyptychs, the National Gallery also shows his striking Annunciation with Saint Emidius. I was surprised by the size of this work. It’s two meters tall! In reproduction it somehow feels like a miniature. What a glorious picture! It’s a very odd annunciation scene that shows part of a city street that anyone who has visited Italy will find familiar. Virgin Mary is just one of the people who live in this town and God sends his spirit to her through a conveniently located little window which turns parts of the wall around it gold. It’s a strange and puzzling piece that has your eyes continuously bouncing from one element to the next. Especially the symbolism of birds and cages is particularly amusing in the context of the immaculate conception.

All the Crivelli’s in this room are beautiful! I was very moved by The Dead Christ supported by Two Angels, especially because baby looks so sad!

It’s wonderful to see how well Crivelli’s work has been preserved. Most of his pictures appear bright and sharp to us, with very few cracks. Maybe this is because they hung in cool dark churches most of the time. Or perhaps he painted on top of a layer of gold leaf. Paintings on metal tend to preserve much better than on canvas. I understand that the mobility of canvas offers great advantages but the wood that the Primitive Masters painted on is just a superior surface. Not only because it tends to preserve better, but also because it’s even, so we just see the picture not some woven texture. I guess this is another thing that relates the old paintings to work in the digital medium: a clean flat surface.

Many of Crivelli’s figures look down. Saint Michael has a reason for that as he’s keeping his eyes on Lucifer beneath his feet. But the others just seem immersed in thought. They make no eye contact with the spectator but invite them to join in their meditation. And although it is especially striking in Crivelli’s depictions, this is not unique. It is in fact rather common for “primitive” painters to depict characters with half open eye lids. This adds a lot to the feeling of intimacy of such works and encourages us to imagine a sensual connection with the scene rather than only a visual one. It draws us into the work.

I feel like some kind of patriot. In every museum I visit, I look for the Flemish masters. I love looking through the windows in such paintings in a foreign land and seeing views of what could be my home town of Ghent. In fact, our apartment is just around that corner! The National Gallery houses two beautiful Virgin and Child pictures, one by Memling and another by Bouts. I was moved by the contrast between the silent posture of the virgin and the brilliant golden rays behind her head in Memling’s picture. And Bouts reminded me that we can have fun with such elevated themes. A tender loving sort of fun. Not mockery or irony. Gentle, sympathetic. Baby Jesus seems to be laughing as Mary offers her nipple.

As always I found several other depictions of Saint Michael in the museum, or of his counterpart Saint George. In the light of my decision to follow the path of mystery, I was particularly drawn to the depiction of the devil (or the dragon) as a grotesque monster. To our modern eyes, their ridiculousness is very challenging. It is hard not to laugh with such a silly looking creature. But if you think about the history of evil people, or indeed very recent events in politics, doesn’t evil often appear as a clown?

In a rather unique depiction of Saint Michael, by Piero della Francesca, the angel actually kills the devil, having cut off the head of a serpent. The serpent that seduced Eve in the Garden of Eden presumably, which is Lucifer in disguise. It’s extremely rare to see Michael commit such violence. Usually he just subdues the devil, pushes him into hell (or onto earth!). Maybe he cannot kill him. Maybe God won’t allow it.

It’s a fascinating topic that I hope I can do justice in my own piece.

—Michaël Samyn.

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The Path of Mystery

6 April 2017The Synthetic Image research projectMichaël Samyn

I can enjoy art that emerges from such tendencies. I like how already in the late renaissance and definitely in the baroque era and the 19th century, artists interpret traditional themes in very personal ways. But none of those make me feel what the work by the Flemish Primitives and some other medieval and early renaissance artists do. I delight in the spectacle of the baroque and even salon painting and sculpture. But I am deeply moved by the sincerity and mystery in -slightly- older work.

So I have decided that, at least for the diorama of Archangel Michael that I am creating for Cathedral-in-the-Clouds in the context of the Synthetic Image research project, I will attempt to delve deeper into the mystery. To reject my modern tendencies and to follow my passionate heart (not my clever brain), even if I don’t understand where it is taking me. Curiously this requires me to think less, to invent less, and to accept traditional ideas about depiction.

The one huge caveat in this idea is that our times are drastically different from the Middle Ages. Particularly with respect to faith. Being so intensely immersed in a mysterious religion must have been a tremendous help for artists to imbue their work with sensitivity and depth. We don’t live in such times now. We have no solid shared belief in an immaterial world of gods and angels. Saints have become freaks that fascinate rather than models we admire. We think of ourselves as cartographers of the universe. Rather than of the universe as an unknowable whirlpool of which we know we form a part in an order that exceeds our understanding.

We live simultaneously in more emotional and less emotional times. We respond quickly to extreme stimuli but are insensitive to things that are hard to grasp, that escape us, that are so vast that their slowness makes them almost unperceivable to us. But if we find the silence in ourselves we can sense in the very tips of our capacities our connection to it.

I want to create work that helps us find this stillness. Work that is not extroverted, or clever, or ironic. Work that is not personal, that does not seek admiration for its creator (it is no coincidence that the name of many medieval artists is not even known to us). Work that is still. Majestic in its modesty. This does not mean distant, or cerebral, or ethereal. Physical sensuality is very much a part of this experience. We have bodies. We know fruits, the air, the landscape. We know stories, places, we are connected, not only to the spiritual world but also to the material one.

The concept of Paradise might be key here, the Garden of Eden that we forever seek to return to, but that we never really left. It is still there, underneath whatever we have created with our Knowledge of Good and Evil. The plants, the animals, humans, the wind. Our voices, our poems, our music. We are still in Paradise! And we can find it again through art. Not as an escape but as firm ground.

Maybe that is what faith is. Firm ground. The gods, the myths, the legends, they are all true. They are ways to imagine the unimaginable. Like three-dimensional realities drawn on a two-dimensional plane. Not fantasies, not even symbols. They are true. They are doors, pathways, connections. Without them we would be lost. Without them we are lost.

Mystery is an inadequate word because it implies vagueness, a lack of knowing, a lack of familiarity. But what I feel in the presence of great art is the exact opposite. Mystery is clarity. To know is but a game on the surface. Mystery is solid and strong and we are very closely and intimately connected to it. We are children of this mystery. And like children we don’t need to understand why or how. We accept. We love.

This is not the easiest path. It leads away from success, away from applause, away from sympathetic smiles and fond expressions of gratitude. I know I could make something cool and contemporary based on ancient themes. And there will be opportunities for that too. But in this particular case, I have chosen the path of mystery, the one that is even hard to see and impossible to know where it leads. Not for adventure, because I’m not expecting any of this to become clear at any point. But for devotion, as a prayer, as an exercise in submission.

The Unreal Forest: step 2

31 March 2017Development Log, The Endless ForestMichaël Samyn

This is a little report to keep you up to date on our progress remaking The Endless Forest in Unreal. In the video you can see how we have set up several crucial pieces of logic that only need to be expanded to approach a full remake.

We have added mouse controls for navigation similar to how it works in the current game. So now we can play with either mouse or keyboard. We have also implemented camera controls that approach the original. Both need fine tuning of course.

A major part of this step has been the beginning of the button bar at the bottom of the screen that you use for making the deer do things. We had to learn about how User Interface is done in Unreal (somehow game engines always manage to make creation of UI extremely convoluted). So now we can make the deer sleep, get up, sit down and roar with the button bar dynamically responding to the context. For this we figured out how to trigger animations through button clicks and made it work over the network too (which requires quite a few steps). The roar action also involved adding morphing for the deer to open his mouth and 3D sound (the first sound in the remake is roar!). All this new knowledge will come in handy when developing things further!

At one point we managed to run a multiplayer game over both the local network and the internet. But the last time we tried it was broken again. It still works in the editor though so we will focus on other things for now. Hopefully a future update of Unreal Engine will improve how networking is done. If not, we may need some external help.

We’re quite happy with the progress we’ve made. Next month we need to focus on a commissioned project with a rather tight deadline. So the third progress report on The Unreal Forest may take a bit longer. Do keep an eye on Twitter, where we share most of what’s going on here. And don’t hesitate to contact us if you have any questions.

Remaking The Endless Forest was made possible thanks to your generous contributions to the IndieGogo campaign and the private fundraiser. It is still possible to join, and get some of the cool perks like special deer outfits and 3D prints of your very own avatar.

—Michaël & Auriea

Synthetic Image research in March

30 March 2017Diary, The Synthetic Image research projectMichaël Samyn

Our visit to the Kunsthistorisches Museum has filled me with so much inspiration that it proved a little difficult to get real work done this week. But I’m very determined about the next steps.

Collecting notes and photos from the visit took a bit more time than expected. And the 8th anniversary of our game The Path and sharing its new build for Windows 10 also affected the plans. And of course there were the classical guitar studies which I’m taking more seriously than before. I arranged my attendance of the Koblenz Guitar Festival in May. And I visited Ghent’s very own superb luthier Karel Dedain to try out his newest creation.

I did manage to continue the Blender modeling tutorial. Learned about modeling the face this time. Most of the tutorial focuses on modeling the shape which requires a sort of intuitive knowledge of anatomy (that I don’t really possess and honestly am trying to avoid somewhat in order to retain some of the naivety that I admire in early Old Masters). The way that this tutorial doesn’t explain the logic of the structure and instead just shows somebody doing it amazingly well, is not very useful anyway. Most of the instructions are in the form of “adjust the shape”. So I might abandon this thing. Maybe I should do an anime modeling tutorial, instead of a photographically-realistic one. Maybe those shapes are closer to Flemish Primitives.

Putting so much time into acquiring new skills sometimes seems a bit wasteful. I feel I already know a lot. Maybe it would be wiser to apply the knowledge that I have instead of learning new techniques and not actually creating anything. Maybe I should stop doing tutorials and just model what I can.

One of the things that caught my attention in the museum in Vienna was how very refined surfaces are treated in the paintings that I admire. Even with wonky perspective and incorrect anatomy, the artists manage to depict lush materials that give a more sensual sensation of realism, rather than a purely visual one. This made me think I should focus my study more on texturing and shading than modeling.

The museum visit inspired a great idea for interaction with the diorama in Virtual Reality. So I worked a bit more on the simple figure I modeled last month and used it to create a prototype in Unreal. I like the result so far. Some things didn’t work because interaction in VR is very tricky when hoping to avoid nausea.

There is a text that I need to write about an important decision that I have made concerning aesthetic style and conceptual approach of the diorama. I will post that soon.

I’m concerned that all this research and thinking and writing might be getting in the way of actual creation. Sometimes it feels like procrastination: it’s easier to design concepts and develop theories than to actually make something. So next month I will focus more on making! And based on the results we’ll see where I need more theory or research.

— Michaël Samyn.

Angels in Vienna

25 March 2017The Synthetic Image research projectMichaël Samyn

The Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna is one of the nicest museums I have visited. We had been there before but this time the explicit reason was to study the paintings of Archangel Michael by Gerard David, Luca Giordano and Bartolomé Esteban Murillo. I didn’t find the latter but the museum offered plenty compensation. The Kunsthistorisches Museum has a wonderful collection, splendid curation, a great building and cosy couches in ideal positions.

The museum allows one to get very close to the paintings. The alarms don’t go off as quickly as in some other places and many works are not covered by glass. This is enormously risky in terms of potential vandalism or accidents but it’s wonderful for students like me.

The two Michaels

Gerard David: Altar of Saint Michael

When I entered Room 20 I had to steady myself. The small room is filled with Flemish Primitives, many of which I’m familiar with from reproduction. I knew I was going to spend some time here. I don’t even need to look at the works. Merely being in their presence feels like arriving in a spiritual home.

One of the paintings that I wanted to study is in this room too: Gerard David’s Altarpiece of Saint Michael, painted around 1510. The triptych consists of a squarish center panel depicting the archangel defeating demons, flanked by two tall panels each depicting a saint holding a book. On the left, judging by the lion at his feet, is Saint Jerome (amusing combination for me since my brother’s name is Jerome). On the right a man dressed as a monk holding an open book upon which a little naked person is kneeling in prayer. I imagine that little guy to be the Virtual Reality user experiencing the diorama.

Of course the middle panel absorbed my attention. What a glorious composition! The depiction of the archangel controls the picture aesthetically. His figure holds everything in place and he seems completely at ease, leaning on a solid golden section. His spread wings remind of a crucifix. In fact, each of the main figures in the three panels is holding a long staff with a crucifix at the top, together referring to the crucifixion scene on mount Golgotha.

Michael’s face is deeply serene. Its angelic androgyny contributes to that serenity. This is especially striking because of the contrast with the vulgar and grotesque demons beneath him. As is common in the Middle Ages, the devils are portrayed as monsters. There’s seven of them, which might remind of the cardinal sins, according to the museum’s description.

The most remarkable aspect of the action is that Michael doesn’t even harm the demons. He just covers them with his enormous velvety cape: a heavy blanket under which he seems to put the monsters to rest. Almost like putting children to bed, reminding somewhat of virgin and child scenes or even an allegory of charity. He has no weapon. Just a shield and a staff.

The figure of the archangel in this work inspires admiration. He’s not depicted in the usual more symbolic, removed way. Here he feels more like a saint: you want to be like him. Just like Michael, I feel I must confidently and precisely suppress evil. Without emotion. Just do it because it’s right. Like brushing your teeth before bed. Only infinitely harder. Hence the admiration: I wish I could be like him. I know I should try to be more like him. But I also know that I can never achieve this ideal. He remains a inspiring saintly example.

In the background we see three angels seemingly sweeping up hords of demons. Almost like a mundane housekeeping task. Just doing the work.

Of note is that the demons are not cast into some vulcanic pit of hell. But apparently down to earth. Is earth hell?

More thoughts in Room 20

I found another depiction of the Archangel Michael in the same room in the tiny Maria with child by Van der Weyden’s studio: a decorative architectural ornament depicting Michael with raised sword chasing Adam out of Paradise.

On the other side of the room, two larger panels by Hans Memling depicting Adam and Eve. I was especially struck by their faces. They look so fresh. Surprised. Filled with wonder. Have they just been crying? Have they just been born? Innocent beauty (right before biting in the apple they are holding). Very naked.

And there’s much more in the small room! A triptych by Memling of the Madonna flanked by the two Johns, an intense crucifixion by Van der Weyden featuring Magdalena and Veronica, remarkable dark blue angels and a fantastically imaginary Jerusalem in the background, a small diptych by Hugo Van der Goes with a fall of man and a deposition, some wonderful portraits by Juan de Flandes, and several more small pictures.

Suffice it to say that I didn’t make it. I didn’t succeed in observing every painting in Room 20. It’s all so intense. Luckily Room 13 next door has comfy couches and walls plastered with Rubens. The irony of such spectacular work having a relaxing effect!

Luca Giordano: Saint Michael vanquishing the devils

Of an entirely different order is Luca Giordano‘s gigantic painting of Saint Michael vanquishing the devils, hung impressively central in a huge room. Painted around 1666 in Italy this is a highly baroque picture with diagonals and spirals swirling over an otherwise fairly static symmetrical composition. Typically for the more modern approach to painting, the work is very narrative, with realistic depictions of humans representing allegorical themes. And it’s intentionally spectacular.

The painting is so large that standing close to it means that I join the devils at the bottom with Michael towering over me as well as them. This painting represents an entirely different approach to religion. For David, the archangel is an inspiring caretaker, for Giordano he is a powerful warlord.

Even more than Raphael’s Michael that I explored in the Louvre last month, Giordano’s seems to dance on top of the demons. Despite of the raised sword, he doesn’t appear emotionally involved in a battle. He’s doing a dance. Going through the motions. Certain he will win. That is the will of God, after all. He is just performing the eternal ritual. The effortlessness of tiptoed balancing on the devil seems to mock all illusions that evil ever had any chance of winning.

It’s not an intimate scene. The light triumphs over the darkness. Simple, clear. Cherubs in the sky. Devils on the ground. The red glow below seems to suggest an underworld, not the surface of earth. Behind the angel the clouds break open to let the divine light stream in. Everything is yellow, brown and red. Michael stands out with blue and green garments inspired by Roman armor.

Typically for the modern era, the devils are depicted as almost humans. Only their little horns, small bat wings, pointy ears and long nails signify them as evil. Giordano also has Satan mimic Michael’s pose with raised arms and spread legs and wings, reinforcing the notion that the two are brothers. Typically Lucifer is naked and Michael dressed.

Unsurprisingly with sensual work like this it’s easy to read a erotic undertone in the scene. Michael is offering Lucifer a look under his skirt but Lucifer turns his head away. This causes Michael to blush. Michael is wielding a red hot sword (a flaming phallus). He’s also very feminine: skirt, cape draped like a shawl, long curly hair, graceful pose, feather on his hat.

Curiously Lucifer seems to have been sitting on a chair -a throne?- when Michael attacked him. Maybe the other devils were carrying it.

The work struck me as a depiction of a three dimensional scene that the artist imagined. Even if that scene is hard to read here and there, it is the unseen three dimensional reality that matters. Very much like realtime 3D.

More museum musing

Perugino and Raphael

Seeing the multiple Perugino paintings in the museum’s collection I suddenly understood the desire for pre-raphaelism. Raphael’s work is undeniably beautiful, clever and sensitive. But his teacher’s work still holds the mystery of the primitives. There is magic in Perugino’s worlds. Mystery. Awe.

That makes them harder to appreciate. Raphael is easier on the eyes and mind. But Perugino shows us the true holy essence of existence. And sometimes we just don’t want to know how devastatingly dazzling our existence is. Raphael distracts us from being too acutely aware of this. He consoles with the charm of mundane prettiness.
Perugino is stubborn. He’s not fishing for compliments. Not trying to make your life easier. He’s a hardcore painter of an irrefutable truth that is agonizingly mysterious.

If you mock a Perugino or have fun in its vicinity you will most certainly be struck by lightning. That’s what the eyes of his figures seem to say. They force you into sincerity. And it’s a pleasant sensation. To be allowed to be sincere.

If the Raphael is the exquisitely well made entertaining blockbuster then the Perugino is the annoyingly obscure clumsily shot art house film. Ridley Scott versus Chantal Akerman. Guillermo del Toro versus Andrei Tarkovsky.

Rewarding attention

One of the things that I admire in the Flemish Primitives is their devotion to detail. Unlike later painters, they eschew suggestion. Everything in their paintings is actually there. When you observe closer, you see better. As opposed to baroque painting for instance where zooming in only reveals a paint stroke (admirable effect in and of itself, of course).

This necessity for things to actually exist feels similar to the requirements of computer-based realtime 3D. I have long been annoyed by the difficulty of simply suggesting shapes in my medium. But the Old Masters are helping me to embrace this aspect and teach me how to use it.

Extreme detail in art gives a feeling of preciousness. It demands reverence, respect. And, importantly, it rewards the viewer for paying attention! The more you look, the more you see. The closer you look, the better you see.

This is not exclusive to the Northern Renaissance. The Italian mannerist Bronzino also rewards attention. Getting closer does not disappoint. Like in the work of the Flemish Primitives, the closer you look the more you see. It’s always sharp. The picture never dissolves into brush strokes. At least to the naked eye! Of course brush strokes are revealed when we blow up technical reproductions. Demonstrating how the art is made to the scale of the human body. Just like Virtual Reality.

You must paint individual hairs!

More Michaels

That evening we attended a violin quartet performance in the baroque Saint Anna church. They played an early piece by Vienna’s superstar Mozart and a wonderful rendition of Schubert’s Death and the Maiden.

Right above our heads, like a sign from heaven, a glorious Archangel Michael chases a bunch of devils out of heaven with firy lightning bolts in each hand. Again dancing on tiptoe.

The next day we went back to the museum. I still felt somewhat drained from the intense experiences in Room 20. So I strolled around the museum more leisurely, and visited the musical instrument collection, the Greek and Roman collection and the decorative arts section, before diving into the picture gallery.

There’s a room filled with paintings by Bartholomeus Spranger, a unique Flemish mannerist painter. His work is extremely erotic. It is simply custom in his world for women to bare their breasts. Even when they are otherwise fully dressed. So too his Minerva victorious over Ignorance which feels a bit like a Michael vanquishing Satan. Except, of course, typically for the time, it is wisdom that triumphs, not faith.

I found another Michaelesque scene in Zucchi’s Immaculata. In it the virgin moon goddess stands on the head of a devil.

There’s a wonderfully refined sculpture by Johann Schnegg in the Kunstkammer. The figure of Michael is carved in ivory while Satan is made from ebony. Satan gets to have feathered wings rather than the usual bat wings. As opposed to their static appearance in many depictions, here Michael’s wings seem very much a part of his body as he raises one together with his right arm. And even in these delicate materials, Michael balances on one foot on a devil lying on a cloud covered globe.

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A journey through sound in Karlsruhe

23 March 2017MusicMichaël Samyn

Last Tuesday I visited the Siccas guitar store in Karlsruhe, Germany. And it was well worth the six hour drive from my home in Ghent, Belgium. Manuel Luchena proved a wonderful host offering me many different guitars to try and sharing lots of insights, despite my relatively low level of expertise as a classical guitar student. I made an enchanting journey through the diverse universe of sounds that different types of guitars can produce.

We started with the Hanika Natural Torres but it only took a few seconds to realize that this guitar felt too much like a factory-made instrument for my taste. I am interested in a Torres style guitar but the Hanika has nothing to do with Torres really except for its fan bracing.

I don’t know what it is exactly but an instrument made by hand by a single dedicated person just feels better. You can tell the difference by simply touching the guitar, even before hearing it. And the sound almost always proves you right. When it comes to factory-made guitars, in my albeit limited experience the cheaper models are more interesting than the high end ones. They tend to have more character.

A more interesting encounter followed with several Milestones models, designed in Germany but built in China, presumably at a fraction of the price. The Milestones Torres Relic is a surprisingly nice instrument with a sort of worn look. But I think I would outgrow it quickly as a student. I need an instrument that is both comfortable to play and challenges me to learn. And while I am looking for a shorter scale guitar to fit my small inflexible aging hands, its 630 mm is just too short. Milestones creates guitars inspired by classic designs. They’re German style guitar is great too but not exactly what I need now. I also tried the Milestones Romantica Relic. Better than the cheap romantic guitar I have at home, and with a wider neck and proper tuners, it still felt similarly limited.

Manuel offered me an 1840 René Lacôte romantic guitar in comparison. What a difference! Despite its smaller scale and oddities like a fretboard level with the body, this instrument does offer a variety of sounds similar to that of classical guitars.

At the complete opposite end of the spectrum, but also made in China was Yulong Guo’s Chamber Concert model. This guitar combines all the modern features in one instrument: a double top, lattice bracing, an arched back, an arm rest and an elevated fretboard. My god! The dark booming full sound that this instrument produces hardly reminds of a guitar anymore. It’s very dark and loud and a lot of fun to play but not suitable for my taste and need now. It would be wonderful to have around as a second guitar, though, to play for fun.

The only other lattice braced guitar I tried had been built by my fellow citizen Karel Dedain. I had recently played a new classical model in his Ghent studio and was curious about this one. If only because I love the idea of having a guitar from a luthier in my town. What a difference with, frankly, most of the lattice braced guitars that I’ve heard! Unlike those, this instrument is subtle and refined, it sounds and feels much more like a “real” guitar (not like a piano, e.g.), despite of the typical evenness of tone.

Back in the world of Torres, I enjoyed Marco Bortolozzo‘s copy of one of the master’s designs a lot. Assuming the odd buzzing on the second string would disappear after a while (as it does on third on virtually all guitars), this is a beautiful instrument, in part due to the pale birdseye maple sides and back which both sound and look good. Its slightly smaller body also feels very comfortable to me.

Another luthier I had been curious about ever since I started this exploration is Roy Fankhänel. And luckily Siccas had a recent model in stock! I had grown a bit sceptical about what I considered its too modern sound for my taste (as witnessed in online videos). But those reservations faded away after only the first seconds of touching the instrument. It sounds great and is very easy to play. But I feel too inexperienced for it. Which is just as well because it is quite a bit above my current budget.

So Manuel offered me a guitar that costs more than twice that much! Oh man! I can see why Hauser guitars are revered the way they are. The Hauser III is almost intimidating. Such a mature instrument! It feels like some sort of father figure. I am definitely not ready for it! I can’t even begin to describe the unique sounds that come out. And I know I don’t have what it takes to make this instrument sing. I did note how the typically flat bottom of the Hauser design fits very snugly against my right thigh. Nice!

Also from Germany but very different, was the guitar built by Cornelia Traudt. A very unique instrument with oddly thin basses and clear trebles. It felt as if the volume increases as you go down the strings. Peculiar. Interesting.

As we were deviating from the purchase path into an exploration of sound, Manuel handed me a John Ray encouraging me to appreciate what he called the dry sound of guitars made in Granada. As he noticed I wasn’t completely convinced, he gave me a Eduardo Durán Ferrer guitar, also built in Granada. Wow! Playing it feels like warm weather! Sitting in the sun. I can see what he means by dry now. Somewhat shorter sustain than what I’m used to but beautiful in its own way. This guitar also had a very thin D-shaped neck profile which worked really well with my (bad) habbit of resting on the tip of my left thumb.

To make the comparison with Madrid he first let me taste a Granada-built cedar top guitar (so far we had only tried spruce tops, because that’s what I’m interested in at the moment). Still “dry” despite of a slightly longer sustain. But the difference with the cedar-topped Bernabé Concierto is remarkable indeed! The guitar from Madrid sounds much more like the classical guitar that I’m familiar with: rich, round, versatile. But that doesn’t make it better. And that was the most interesting outcome of this journey for me: that there’s many different types of guitars and that many sound interesting for one or another reason, without one being particularly better than the other (with the possible exception of the Fankhänel and the Hauser that I don’t feel experienced enough to judge yet).

To experience all these sounds first hand, has been a true joy. And I feel so much better informed now. I’m also secretly proud that my fellow citizen’s work holds its own even among that of so many other great artisans.

―Michaël Samyn.

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Synthetic Image research in February

25 February 2017Diary, The Synthetic Image research projectMichaël Samyn

The central event of this week’s work on The Synthetic Image was a visit to the Louvre museum in Paris. Intended to study the two paintings of Archangel Michael by Raphael, the hours spent roaming the endless museum halls also inspired a great many ideas. More about that here.

To prepare for the visit I read up a bit about Raphael’s life and work. I discovered how 16th century art historian Giorgio Vasari deeply idolized the painter for his politeness and friendliness. In stark contrast to contemporary colleague Michelangelo, apparently: “Nature created Michelangelo Buonarroti to excel and conquer in art, but Raphael to excel in art and in manners also.”

This renewed encounter with the high renaissance did however make clear that, despite of my deep enjoyment of this and later art, what I am hoping to approach in The Synthetic Image is only really present in earlier art. Sadly the museum rooms dedicated to the Northern Renaissance were closed for restoration. And the Louvre only has a few pieces by Southerners (Crivelli and Botticelli) that help my research.

In terms of actual work, I continued my tutorial in Blender with the basic modeling of a face. And while I do learn about some handy modeling features, the tracing of photographs in this tutorial seems to counter the anti-photography stance of my project. I do learn techniques but the tutorial doesn’t help with more technical aspects of either mesh construction or human anatomy.

The day after the visit to the Louvre, I was still exhausted from the trip. So i didn’t get much done. Something to keep in mind for future journeys!

On Friday I had planned to work some more on the diorama prototype. But since I didn’t want to work with Unreal’s standard mannequin character, I looked into an add-on for Blender called Manuel Bastioni Lab. This application can generate human bodies based on given parameters, including a poseable rig. It’s very impressive software but the choice between heroic, realistic and anime styles doesn’t make it suitable for my needs. The models are also far too detailed for my current prototyping needs.

I decided I should model some figures myself. Confronted with the empty startup scene in Blender, however, I felt at a bit of a loss on how to start. So I did a tutorial for modeling a very basic human figure. I ended up having quite a bit of fun modeling the shape better than in the tutorial. But I also realized that I lack some basic knowledge about the form of the human body. So I decided I need to study that a bit. I don’t want to learn actual human anatomy for fear that I would lose the naivety that I share with the early renaissance painters. So I started collecting screenshots of low poly meshes to sketch from.

Moodboard for the design of the Diorama of Archangel Michael

And finally I worked on the design of the diorama and created a moodboard with decisions about scene, colors, clothing, etc. I realized that I can’t help being modern. No matter how much I admire the Old Masters, I keep having ideas that one would never find in their work, but that might appear in more recent art. Such as my desire to depict Lucifer as almost human, much like Michael. This is something that artists had only been doing since the baroque. In earlier art, Lucifer is always depicted as a grotesque monster. Indeed one can see this evolution in Raphael’s own work: his early Lucifer resembles a dragon, the later one a satyr.

Sadly I didn’t get around to prototyping the design. Looking forward to doing that next month!

— Michaël Samyn.

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