“A tondo (plural "tondi") is a Renaissance term for a circular work of art, either a painting or a sculpture." (Wikipedia.com)

Viewing the world through a circle begins when we open our eyes. Circular observation tools such as the magnifying glass and the telescope extend our capacity to see closer and further away. In nature, both micro and macroscopic forms like cells and planets exist in the round.

With these associations in mind, I am painting tiny parts of my own body, magnified from life, on the circular form of the tondo.

The circular shape is all encompassing, conveying the idea of this view of skin as a universe unto itself. With no stable axis of horizontals and verticals, the circle also disorientates one’s perspective. Rather than aligning to the grid, the tondo conveys the idea of things in the round and rotating in space.

“ ..the earliest textual incidence of the word is found in dolce stil nuovo verse, (12-14th century style of poetry) where it connoted the cosmos, completeness, and perfection.. within the domestic secular environment where so many of the tondi were displayed, the circular form functioned to define a sacred space...” Olsen, Roberta (2000), The Florentine tondo”)

The cosmic and sacred space associated with the tondo makes an interesting counterpart to my focus on the body. The illusion of a depth of field becomes ambiguous in extreme. While it's clear that one is looking at the magnification of the skin, there is also a parallel otherwordly sense of the reference veiled in history of the cosmos. Round moles and blemishes on the skin appear like planets, moving in rotation and encircled within the same language of rounds.

I paint with oil, wet into wet, in one go so that the skin of paint comes together seamlessly, creating a sheer, ultra thin membrane. Brush marks are rendered invisible to maximize the 3d illusion of the living form. Blending cool and warm colors, opaque and transparent hues, I quickly establish the quality of light on the surface of the skin. Sun light is all encompassing and speaks of vastness. It gives a sense of distance to the limited view.

Historically, tondo paintings diminished the importance of the background, drawing attention instead to the figures in relative close-up view. I take this a stage further and eliminate the background of the figure altogether. My aim is to transform the body image into something new and mysterious, while still retaining the imprint of human life.

Gwen Hardie, May 2008

Leonard Da Vinci’s portrait of Ginevra de Benci, was the inspiration for this project which I undertook while in residence at The Liguria Study Center in Bogliasco. I positioned myself under the skylight in my studio, so that the shadow falling onto my lips and chin area was almost identical to that which fell onto Ginevra.

My project fell into 2 parts- the first was a series of oil paintings about how light falls on the bottom lip and the nuances of shadows that it creates, thus referencing the sfumato technique of which Leonardo was such a master. I became more and more sensitive to and intrigued by the idea of a vanishing point between light and shadow that could be seen under Ginevras lower lip- this says more about the power of oil paint to create an illusion than of course it does about the subject. It was clear that the identity of the subject was almost irrelevant in this part of the project.

The second part was done in guaoche, where I painted the lips and chin area of The Ginevra portrait, followed by all the fellows, who were positioned in the same light situation and angle of Ginevra. With all the criteria being the same, except for the subject, it became a study about human variety up-close. In each case, I wanted to try with the minimum of information, to evoke a sense of a live human presence and show something of the bearing and character of the individual., as they sat before me, defined by the falling light from the sun.

Although my focus on the Ginevra portrait was restricted to hardly more than a square inch around the lower lip and chin, I could experience the sublime beauty of Leonardos vision perhaps more intensely than if I were only looking .at the painting. I found confirmation in the idea that it is possible within such a tight crop to convey a world view.

The most challenging aspect of the project was imagining a much closer space between Leonardo and Ginevra, so close that all the angles on the periphery of his field of vision would be distorted, as they move out of the picture frame. I wanted to maintain the same angle of the viewpoint between artist and subject, realising that any shift up or down changes how we perceive the subject.

What started to become clear in this project, is my attraction to the neutrality of Leonardos portrayals of people- it is a neutrality so delicate and powerful simultaneously that allows us to be transported into a world of heightened sensitivity to time passing, as witnessed by the exacting analysis of light on the face.

Gwen Hardie , February 2007

Light and shadow on the surface of the face obscures and reveals details such as lines, textures and muscular tension. I observe the face close enough to convey the experience of looking at the edge of our depth of field. Everything changes close up, forcing a heightened awareness of human presence at the same time as limiting the information about the subject.

Reflected in this tight crop of the human face is the light from the sun. I choose natural light because of its neutral qualities and its capacity to cast an infinite range of colors and tones in our perception.

I paint quickly, wet into wet, so that the film of paint comes together in its entirety in one go. The image that works is often the result of many rejected versions of the same subject.. The painted surface must look unlaboured, fresh, as if easily coming together, while still creating the illusion of the subject with enough accuracy.

Photography encompasses both objective fact and the subjective response; this is appealing.  To a certain extent, I try to use my eye in a similar way to the camera, isolating and recording the facts.

The experience of looking over time at the subject rather than in the split second of the camera gives a more experiential way of observing-a combination of seeing, absorbing and feeling all at the same time.

When I observe another person’s face, I am captivated by their inner state. When I look at myself, the emotion becomes more neutral so that I can concentrate on the act of observation.

I see the face as a kind of testimony to life and death, both monumental and fragile, permeable and impermanent. Gwen Hardie, August 2005

Close - Up

Small parts of the face such as the eyes, the lips, the nostrils or just a few inches of neck or cheek hint at the inner world of a person. I select, crop and magnify parts of my and others’ faces as if through the camera lens, only painting from life.

The quality of observation interests me, painting being an act of observation over an entire day, rather than the few minutes it takes to record on camera. Observing over time gives way to an experiential sense of the subject, where the question of subject/object begins to dissolve.

The kinds of distortions in spatial relationships that occur at very close range inform these paintings. I want to create the sense of being so close up to the subject, that the subject becomes both immediate as a real presence and at the same time mysterious and elusive. Gwen Hardie, december 2004

Light and Dark

Light and dark and the space between. Lightness relates to the idea of sunlight on the surface of material objects, defining a physical presence. Darkness relates to the shadows of these material objects, conveying uncertainties of spatial depth. Form takes shape in the minds eye with simple illusionist devices. Playing with this, I tease the eye into a back and forth movement between an illusion of something concrete and an illusion of immateriality. If its too tangible, its not working; if its too vague, its not working. Only the point where two readings of the same image are coexisting, does the image begin to work. Gwen Hardie, august 2002

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Verge

"extreme edge, rim or margin of something...enclosing boundary or the space enclosed by such a boundary...the point beyond which an action, state or condition is likely to begin or occur, to move or extend towards some direction..." American Heritage Dictionary

My aim in this series of small paintings is to explore a possibly endless range of emotion within very concise limitations. Unpremeditated differences occur within the constraints of size, subject and approach. The paint is applied very quickly and thinly so that, as a skin of paint, it dries in one go. The speedy action of blending tones culminates in the teasing out of a point or line of light and dark converging. A visible brushmark may be left there, coaxed by neighbhouring tones. This small moment of texture can evoke the immediacy of an event like a single breath or touch. I am fascinated by the many associations that can be made with this barely defined edge. At its most concrete, there is an illusion of something pushing through the canvas, forwards or backwords. If the edge is horizontal, one tends to think of landscape, if vertical, of the body. This point or edge can seem sexually suggestive or elusive and distant, depending on smaIl differences of tonality, color and texture. Gwen Hardie, august 2001

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