For my fifth and final Stan Getz facial detail, I used a photo of him at rest. He looks like he’d put in a rugged session either recording or performing. Through his tired eyes I saw vulnerability and need.
The Stan Getz commissioned drawing is finished. Tomorrow I will deliver it. I’ll never hear jazz the same way again–that’s a good thing indeed.
Here are two similar takes on the Getz near-profile. There will be one more before the final image is done.
An unintended effect, probably due to the lighting but possibly due to the tablet that took the picture, is the horizontal striping–might induce nostalgia with anyone who was watching television in the 50s or 60s. Late afternoon venetian blind shadows…
I’d just finished the Stan Getz bio, and, looking for more Getz/Saxism, I looked on the magazine rack of the Burton Barr Phoenix Public Library where I’d returned the book (STAN GETZ: A LIFE IN JAZZ) for Down Beat Magazine. I found it, except its name is jam-sessioned into DownBeat. But lo and behold, KENNY BARRON was on the cover!! Stan Getz called him “The other half of my heart.” Another bonus was that there was an ad for a new cleaning system for musical instruments that involves light, and the photo of the sax on the ad was in gorgeous detail. So I thank the magazine and the LIGHT folks for the photo springboards, and ask them to please not sue nor cease&desist me.
Here’s what happened:
Once upon a band, Woody Herman’s, there came a cadre of saxophone players who meshed thrillingly. In the second incarnation of Herman’s Herd they were heard and believed. They live happily ever after on YouTube and in the Heart of Jazz. The End–The Livin’ End!
Here is the “Seasoned” Stan Getz, who has faced acclaim, disaster, and dislocation. He’s been around the block plenty. No one can match his Sound.
Between the ears: “It’s great to be doing all these saxophones and Getzes, but how about a break?” “OK. What did you have in mind?” “Let’s take a good piece of paper and a pencil and one of those magic erasers and just see what happens.” “Not looking at anything? You sure?” “Yeah, let’s go. What’s the risk? One piece of paper–one hour of time?” “OK then.” And here is what happened.
At this point I’ve learned enough about Stan Getz’s face to picture it and describe it without looking at a photo: Pale. Nose slightly aquiline. Short but not weak chin. Deep-set eyes, with sockets sloping upward toward the middle of the face. Ears small but protrusive. (Birth trauma trivia: Stan’s poor mom, Goldie, had 35 hours of labor. The doctor went in with forceps. Stan’s head was so big one of his ears was almost torn off and needed suturing. The doctor said they couldn’t leave with Stan until they’d paid an additional $52–a huge sum of money in 1927–for the ear work. “$52?” Al Getz gasped. “That’s too much. You can keep him.” Then he paid up.)
Here is a first take on a solo headshot of Stan Getz. There will be four more.
Words:
Smoothened F then sharpened G
Talk with tune of what will be
Anthemed improv free of rust
No one’s catspaw no one’s klutz
Now it can be told: My recent interest in the saxophone and the world of jazz is due to my acceptance of a commission to do a portrait of Stan Getz, the tenor saxophonist known as The Sound. I knew next to nothing about Getz, and was completely unfamiliar with the structure of the saxophone. Now, with several drawings under my belt, armed with the critically praised STAN GETZ: A LIFE IN JAZZ by Donald L. Maggin, and (just as important) having listened to some Getz sides, I am well on the way to meeting my deadline of April Fool’s Day with some familiarity with Mr. Getz and the world he inhabited. This is an enjoyable project, and I think I’ll come out of it a better artist. I’m a long way from the finish line, though!
Here is a new drawing, a work in progress. For the first time there is a real effort to put some of the keys and rods where they belong–to learn how things work together. There’s also “post-production” work with the tablet’s photoeditor, experimenting with selective focus and “mood lighting.” All of this is in the service of making the final drawing of the series more genuine, and all that jazz.
Here is a sketching jam session of sorts, done while riffling through the history of jazz. A serendipitous find: Gary Frommer, the drummer my parents picked up hitchhiking one fateful night and later decided to name their unborn child after, was once part of a Stan Getz combo! Small world . . .
One with Clay, Image and Text 