The aulos (plural: auloi) is an ancient Greek reed instrument similar to the modern oboe, though its sound was maybe closer to that of bagpipes. The aulist played a couple of auloi simultaneously in order to get a polyphonic drone. As documented in many vase paintings, he usually wore a perforated leather strap (called phorbeia) over the mouth, maybe with the purpose of supporting the circular breathing technique needed for continuous droning.
In spite of the preceding didactic introduction, which of course didn’t tell you anything you can’t easily find by yourself in Wikipedia, my aim with this drawing wasn’t getting an accurate depiction of the aulos, as much as it was drawing a sweet hipster lady playing a cool musical instrument. Which sounds kind of frivolous, I’m afraid. So, dear worthy reader, take that as a disclaimer for any lack of historical correctness the drawing may hold.
As you can see, I tried a narrower format here, and I was ridiculously excited about that minor novelty. The technique is the same as described in my last drawings: indian ink and flat, simple colours applied with an airbrush. I’ve started to use a facemask while airbrushing, by the way, after discovering the connection between a small room full of floating pulverised paint and a ulterior nasty headache. I may be smarter than that sometimes.
I put a lot of care in drawing the girl’s hands, which made me painfully aware of the fact that I’m still struggling with an old, silly question known to every beginning artist: how much of a fingernail should be drawn? The obvious answer is: just enough to make it look like an actual fingernail. Sometimes that’s nothing at all, sometimes it’s just a thin line, and a few times it’s a little something else. But the sooner you go further than that, you are sure to get some crap which doesn’t look like a real fingernail at all. You have maybe heard before that fingernails are better suggested than drawn; and, well, that’s the point I’m after. This is something I’m trying to extrapolate to almost everything: how much of whatever should be drawn? Some pictures seem to work better when some contour lines (which, remember, are just drawing conventions and not real things at all) are just omitted. This is called economy of means, subtlety, and elegance; and surely has nothing to do with the poor drawing I’ve shown above. But you can look for it in every single drawing by, let’s say, Alex Raymond. Rip Kirby, anyone?
Well, dear worthy reader, I guess that was my deep thought of the day. By the way, the aulos drawing, along with some others you’ve already seen in this blog, are being shown at a local place called La magia del melón. So, if you happen to be anywhere near Málaga during this month (chances are you’re not) you’re invited to come and take a look.
Edit: I’ve noticed Tumblr doesn’t handle too well this narrower picture format: the image is cropped and it’s a bit bigger than it should be. So please click on it for a proper display.
The aulos (plural: auloi) is an ancient Greek reed instrument similar to the modern oboe, though its sound was maybe closer to that of bagpipes. The aulist played a couple of auloi simultaneously in order to get a polyphonic drone. As documented in many vase paintings, he usually wore a perforated leather strap (called phorbeia) over the mouth, maybe with the purpose of supporting the circular breathing technique needed for continuous droning.
In spite of the preceding didactic introduction, which of course didn’t tell you anything you can’t easily find by yourself in Wikipedia, my aim with this drawing wasn’t getting an accurate depiction of the aulos, as much as it was drawing a sweet hipster lady playing a cool musical instrument. Which sounds kind of frivolous, I’m afraid. So, dear worthy reader, take that as a disclaimer for any lack of historical correctness the drawing may hold.
As you can see, I tried a narrower format here, and I was ridiculously excited about that minor novelty. The technique is the same as described in my last drawings: indian ink and flat, simple colours applied with an airbrush. I’ve started to use a facemask while airbrushing, by the way, after discovering the connection between a small room full of floating pulverised paint and a ulterior nasty headache. I may be smarter than that sometimes.
I put a lot of care in drawing the girl’s hands, which made me painfully aware of the fact that I’m still struggling with an old, silly question known to every beginning artist: how much of a fingernail should be drawn? The obvious answer is: just enough to make it look like an actual fingernail. Sometimes that’s nothing at all, sometimes it’s just a thin line, and a few times it’s a little something else. But the sooner you go further than that, you are sure to get some crap which doesn’t look like a real fingernail at all. You have maybe heard before that fingernails are better suggested than drawn; and, well, that’s the point I’m after. This is something I’m trying to extrapolate to almost everything: how much of whatever should be drawn? Some pictures seem to work better when some contour lines (which, remember, are just drawing conventions and not real things at all) are just omitted. This is called economy of means, subtlety, and elegance; and surely has nothing to do with the poor drawing I’ve shown above. But you can look for it in every single drawing by, let’s say, Alex Raymond. Rip Kirby, anyone?
Well, dear worthy reader, I guess that was my deep thought of the day. By the way, the aulos drawing, along with some others you’ve already seen in this blog, are being shown at a local place called La magia del melón. So, if you happen to be anywhere near Málaga during this month (chances are you’re not) you’re invited to come and take a look.
Edit: I’ve noticed Tumblr doesn’t handle too well this narrower picture format: the image is cropped and it’s a bit bigger than it should be. So please click on it for a proper display.
XD