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Jean-Claude Golvin is not only an artist but also a researcher. An architect and later a historian at the CNRS, his contribution to the scientific world has been significant for several decades. To better understand how he developed and often succeeded in combining these two activities, he answers a series of questions.
Before 1990, I had associated my research with simple and “technical” drawings. But from that point on, in addition to research, I became interested in communicating with a broader audience. For this, it was necessary to use credible yet much more evocative images and to find an appropriate style. My training as an architect helped me master perspective, proportions, and scale, while the artistic aspect developed in a more personal way.
To continue my activity in the media field, I had to maintain my connection to scientific research. This connection was my strong point. Moving away from it would have been foolish and self-destructive. I would have been harshly criticized, and rightfully so, by the hypercritical research community.
A private architect is primarily someone who solves problems posed by a “specifications document” through architectural design. That was the foundation of my initial training.
I tried to place myself in the position of an architect (engineer-architect) from the Roman era to understand the challenges they faced (such as the design and construction of a bridge, aqueduct, or amphitheater) and to suggest the most plausible ways they might have solved them, as ancient texts have not explained everything to us.
Watercolor is flexible, harmonious, quick to use (as it dries fast), and I had some experience with it when I began working on restitutions.
At that time, I needed to act quickly. With this technique, which I enjoyed, I had a chance to avoid failing right from the start.
Watercolor is quick, efficient, flexible, and inexpensive to use. Additionally, I haven’t received any training to master digital imaging, and I don’t have the time to learn it. My involvement is limited to collaborating on the conceptual thinking required for restitutions, which happens to me regularly.
Other techniques, such as colored ink, would be suitable; I use it a little, but only as a complement. Others, like gouache or acrylic, may work for some, but I don’t have experience with them. I’ve never even had the desire or time to explore them. The same goes for oil painting.
I must never “let loose” for the sake of artistic pleasure by indulging in spectacular effects like sunsets, sandstorms, scraping, blending, or artistic blur.
I’m bound by the didactic nature of my images. They are primarily created to explain something, aiming to clearly show what could have been seen at a certain time. This is the priority. Aesthetic considerations are secondary, serving the purpose of delivering information without ambiguity. The image must, therefore, have a realistic quality. However, it is essential to bring pleasure to the viewer. The images must be beautiful, even captivating, to effectively fulfill their role.
The simplest tools are enough: pencil, eraser, Indian ink pen, ruler, set square, compass, brushes, and watercolors. With just a pen or a simple brush, one can create a masterpiece or something mediocre. It’s the skill and inspiration that matter. However, before drawing a restitution, it’s crucial to have thoroughly studied the subject: reading scientific publications, discussing with researchers, and presenting them with sketches.
Yes, there’s quite a bit of personal “craft” that I’ve developed to be efficient and save time. In the reality of the communication world (magazines, shows), we are often forced to react very quickly. One way to save time is by shading and coloring a series of drawings. But most importantly, I’ve learned to choose the right paper size. If it’s too small, I won’t be able to draw the details; if it’s too large, I’ll waste a lot of unnecessary time.
I save a lot of time by simplifying the construction of perspective through habit. I’ve practiced perspective so much that I can play with it and add emphasis, making the drawn image more effective and expressive than a 3D image. The key is to master perspective like Paganini mastered the violin or like Mozart played with musical rules, making even dissonances sound harmonious. It’s all a matter of practice.
The research phase before a drawing varies greatly. It can range from a few days to over a week, and for major exhibitions, it can take up to a year. It all depends on the amount of documentation to study and the complexity of the example. On the other hand, the execution time is predictable. For a 100×60 cm sheet, it takes about a week. With extensive practice, I am always accurate in my time estimates.
It’s important to work both quickly and effectively. Once I’ve studied the restitution of a monument at scale in plan, section, and elevation, I already have a mental 3D image of the monument. I visualize it internally. I then create quick sketches (drafts) to explore different angles for the final drawing. I save time by drawing these drafts small. If a draft works, I enlarge it for the next stage, the more detailed sketch.
In the sketch stage, everything is accurately scaled, and the drawing is enhanced with elements like figures, vehicles, and details. The sketch provides a clear idea of what the final drawing will look like. Once sent via the internet to the archaeologist colleague (who often lives far away), it can be corrected in one go. The next phase is creating the final sheet in two equal parts:
2. Second phase: shading, coloring, and finishing touches.
The real beginning of this great adventure would be in 1990. Everything before that could be considered a preliminary phase. Everything changed when I published media-friendly images in books aimed at a broader audience and in major magazines like Géo, Le Point, and L’Express, among others. Some well-known archaeologists and historians with whom I collaborated embraced the approach, while others were hesitant because it was new and disrupted traditional practices.
The turning point came with the Errance publishing house, which led me to collaborate with numerous archaeologists, including Christian Goudineau, a professor at the Collège de France and a specialist in Gaul. Other academics were early allies, such as Philippe Fleury, whose CIREVE laboratory at the University of Caen focused on 3D reconstructions of Roman monuments. The conferences and scientific publications from this context were very helpful. Additionally, my own CNRS laboratory, the Ausonius Institute at the University of Bordeaux III, provided crucial support.
The first step is to gather knowledge about the subject. I need to obtain the best documents and advice from researchers who have studied the site. It’s essential to get a clear idea of the appearance and function of the monuments being studied and to propose a credible restitution. This research phase is crucial as it provides the foundation for the accuracy of the restitution.
The second step is the actual creation of the image. This can be done through manual 2D drawing or 3D computer rendering. Both methods can be used in conjunction, depending on the needs of the project.
A significant portion of the research behind a restitution is not published. This is because such detailed information is not suited for a general audience publication and risks boring the reader with excessive repetition. Publishers prefer to use the final images as they are, without delving into the detailed story behind each one.
They are satisfied when these images are published alongside text written by a reputable archaeologist and created in collaboration with them. Discussions about methodological issues in this field are specialized and usually occur in specialized settings like conferences. These discussions advance in the context of academic colloquia, where detailed and technical aspects are addressed by experts in the field.
As a historian and archaeologist myself, with advanced degrees and specialized research and publications, I am not merely an illustrator. The collaboration takes place at a high scientific level. I contribute to the team with my architectural vision and artistic skills. This allows for a deep, informed discussion and integration of my expertise in the restitution process, ensuring that both the historical accuracy and artistic representation are effectively addressed.
One notable example of fruitful interdisciplinary collaboration is found in the scientific publications of missions I directed, such as those involving the Roman temples of Dougga in Tunisia. The synthesis of field survey data and the rich inscriptions from this site led to well-founded restitutions. This collaboration allowed us to produce detailed paragraphs on the methodology of architectural restitution.
Additionally, participating in major exhibitions provided opportunities to work closely with curators and researchers from renowned museums, including the Louvre, Musée Carnavalet, Musée du Petit Palais in Paris, Musée de l’Arles Antique, Musée de la Romanité in Nîmes, Musée des Théâtres Romains de Lyon, Musée d’Aquitaine in Bordeaux, and Musée de l’Histoire de Marseille. These collaborations enriched the exhibitions and ensured their historical accuracy and depth.
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