Showing posts with label Art. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Art. Show all posts

Saturday, November 14, 2020


 Be a Sponge


    All English speaking writers and poets start with the same alphabet and the multitude of words created by those 26 letters. From that same pool of words, some writers will draw on their experience of the world and create epic descriptive novels and others will knit together three sparse lines into a haiku that I might suggest holds as much content as the novel. The former supplies us with more specifics and details, the latter requires the reader to contribute more to the story. Neither literary form is more valid than the other, and these are just two examples of the myriad of configurations the written word can take. All are different methods of expression that are born from the same vocabulary. 


    We can continue that analogy into every art form. In music, as another example, we have the same eight notes of the scale (12 including accidentals). That’s it. Yet musicians can put those eight notes together in so many different ways that we have the complexity of classical music with all its inherent mathematical sequences and equal in complexity, jazz, a style that strips away some of that structure to draw attention to the spaces in-between. Again, there are so many other “styles” of music but each draws from the same source of tones.


    So is it any wonder that in the visual arts we have the same phenomenon? There are so many options from material choices to color that the permutations and combinations are quite endless. There isn't only one way to paint. Attempting to put yourself in a stylistic box might be helpful for a while, to understand that boxes mode of working. A classical traditional painter has their own set of “rules” on how to apply paint to the canvas in order to create a painting that looks like a classical traditional painting. But the same rules would probably hinder an impressionistic or abstract painter. The first step in your artistic journey is to figure out what your personal aesthetic is. We seem to realize it’s ok to have a preference to the type of music we listen to or the literature we read, or even the wine we drink. But we often think we have to fit into someone else’s idea of what our art should look like.


    As I mentioned, there are some inalterable “truths” in every art form. A certain string of letters will always spell the same word. A specific sequence of notes will sound the same melody. Blue mixed with yellow will always create some sort of green. Figuring out the difference between these apparently inalterable truths and those that are up to bending though our artistic filter of experience is where the Art begins. You do not have to “understand” or “get” every form of artistic expression out there. That takes time and exposure and the willingness to let new ideas in. Keep an open mind to all you encounter as it may surprise you where this journey will take you if you stay receptive. Be a sponge, soak up everything you see and feel and then wring it out on the canvas in whatever way feels authentic to you.


Monday, June 3, 2019

Bring on the Gold


"Treeness"  oil and cold wax on panel 7.5" x 8"                             Mary L. Moquin © 2019

Bring on the Gold


A very proficient artist posted a painting on Instagram. She lamented that she had hit a wall and just didn’t feel enthused anymore. She often painted very proficient pet portraits and super realistic still life’s. They are masterfully done. She didn’t know what direction to go and was tired of what she was doing. It happens. We spend so much time figuring out “how” to paint. We become absorbed with understanding all the technical details. We spend years mastering drawing, and then the idiosyncrasies of our chosen medium.  But at some point, if you persevere and cover enough miles of canvas, you will figure out all those technique issues. You will have mastered the materials. But then what? 

I asked her this question: if she knew that the next painting would be her last painting, what would she paint? What would she want to say as her final expression of what this life has been for her? I guarantee it wouldn’t be a portrait of her neighbor’s dog or another exquisitely rendered lemon. She agreed wholeheartedly and thanked me for making her think. I look forward to her next post.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with perfecting craft. It is imperative, poor craft will hinder expression because it can be a distraction to the viewer. Depending on how much painting you do in your life, you may never tire of striving to complete the perfect replica of the subject before you. If that is how you feel, this post isn’t for you, just keep on following your bliss. But, if you have reached a point where you no longer feel elated when you complete that perfectly executed copy of what is in front of you, then it’s time to re-evaluate what and why you are painting. Because the way to find meaning in your work, is to stop painting pictures of what things look like, and to start painting what things are. 

To do this takes a little meditation and soul searching. Subject matter, the “what’ you are painting, can often serve as a metaphor for exploring something you have witnessed in your time on the planet. How can the marks you make, the colors you choose and the orchestration of all those details reveal something about the subject matter beyond what is immediately visible? What can you show me that I don’t already know? If what you see is all I get, then art has lost its power to communicate beyond the surface of appearance. So dig deeper. Experiment by choosing an adjective for your subject like silence, or frustration, stillness or transition. Hold that adjective in your consciousness when working. How does that influence the choices you make? 


Tell me something I don’t already know, or remind me of something I’ve long forgotten. Show me something I haven’t already seen, but somehow I recognize. Bring all those finely honed skills with you, but let your spirit and intuition guide you. Trust that a little imperfection now and then might actually communicate more to me than a slick stroke. The choices you make don’t always have to be in the service of rendering what you see. Your marks can make invisible feelings visible. As artists, we are alchemists, bring on the gold!



Saturday, December 29, 2018


Sometimes we have to just trust the muse



For some reason I find myself wanting to paint a series of self portraits. And then, there are also these images I took of my 92 year old mother with her dog Princess (who is anything but) that I am excited about beginning. And, why am I obsessed with this series of still life paintings I recently completed that are full of complexity and detail? What exactly is this current diversion all about? 

Those that have known me and my work are asking me where my houses and forests are? Have I left that subject matter behind? What is happening with my style, have I abandoned the more abstract tangles of trees and the geometry of architecture? I wish I knew the answers. And then my own fears pipe in, who the heck is ever going to buy a painting of me staring at them? For what purpose am I creating this body of work? Shouldn't I stop exploring and get back to work and create some inventory people expect for my galleries next season! I need to pay the rent after all!

Well, after worrying my brain and finding no obvious answers. I have decided to stop trying to figure it out. Because it is like anything in life, sometimes you just have to trust where the current is taking you and stop asking “why” or “when will we get there?” Have you ever had a friend try to surprise you by doing something or taking you somewhere and you keep badgering them with questions and they reply, “Just wait, you’ll see”. And when you finally get there you are all happy and say “wow, thanks, I never expected this!”

I guess I have come to a point in life/art where I am trying to trust the process. I can't waste time worrying about where this is all leading because I am just delaying things by dragging my feet along the way asking why. For some reason my dear muse has decided to take me on this adventure because she knows I am up for the challenge, I just have to keep showing up and doing the work and in the end I will understand why she led me there.

I hope all of you can try and trust the process more this year, we only have so many breaths and so many brushstrokes allotted to us. Paint what matters to you now.






Wednesday, August 26, 2015

Perception Shift

Perception Shift - 22 x 30 mixed media on mounted paper

 
The poet Rhina Espaillant says, “Writing is the process of listening internally - to understand what it is the poem wants to be.”  The process is the same for me, except that as a painter, I look more than I listen.
.
The first poem (Common Threads 2015) that grabbed my attention, and caused that familiar tug of recognition was “Prospective Immigrants Please Note” by Adrienne Rich. I know nothing of what it is to be an immigrant, but I do know that there are many life altering doorways of transformation that each of us experience in the course of a lifetime, some that are of our own choosing, and some that unexpectedly slam behind us.

It is at those times that our perception shifts, priorities change and beliefs are challenged. Rich alludes to this perception shift in her poem, “Things look at you doubly / and you must look back / and let them happen." In my work I contemplate these shifts but ask what, if anything endures, or what does it take in order to persevere?

For several years I have focused on two motifs that serve as my metaphors to explore these questions. One example from nature – the tree, another man made – the house. Both of these endure the hostility of the ever-changing environment. Both serve as shelter. Both are equipped with different methods of coping and both ultimately decay. They bear witness to times constant wearing away on any notion of permanence, while I watch.

While watching, I seek brief moments of clarity, little glimpses of grace, the times when my eyes are focused so intently on seeing what is behind that damn veil of unknowing that I finally begin to see the hazy outline of something. I strive to give form to that something. I am filled with hope when I see a shape that remains the same no matter where I stand, and sustained by the knowledge of its existence even when it is hidden. I watch bare tree limbs reach unashamed and unprotected into the winter sky. I feel the fearlessness, the unwavering faith in the potential buds they carry while blissfully ignorant of what storms lay ahead. Again the poem, “to maintain your attitudes / to hold your position / to die bravely.”

Like a poet, I seek to extract some sort of meaning from these observations and find a way to share the encounter through shapes and colors on a flat surface. As Stephen Dobyns has so articulately written in his book "Best Words, Best Order", “A work of art gives testimony as to what it is to be human."  It is an exchange between one human being and another in an attempt to communicate and offer some existential relief in the recognition of our shared experience. As a painter, I am a wordless poet.



There will be an opening reception, September 20th from 1-3 pm surrounding Mass Poetry's "Common Threads", at Highfield Hall in Falmouth, MA that will include various pieces of art by myself and 7 other artists that have studio space in the Old Schoolhouse Studios in Barnstable Village, MA.  There will be poetry readings at 2:30 by three of the poets represented in this years selection. The show will be on view Sept 10 - Oct 31.





Friday, July 31, 2015

A New Perspective




I am sitting here in the small kitchen of my cottage looking at this model, pondering what compelled me to construct it. I continue to gaze at it and then I begin to contemplate the light as it falls across the varied geometric planes. It is mesmerizing and I am filled with a sense of being centered and at peace.

I have stood outside and drawn the actual house as it stands in reality many times. I am usually swatting flies, battling wind, and seeking shade. Yet it was not until I built his model that I felt I truly began to “know” this house.  I now know the true actual shape of each plane because I have held each separate piece in my hand.

Even though perceptually these shapes are always changing depending on the angle of my gaze, there is something about the knowledge of each true shape that allows me to abstract more freely.

There is nothing immediate about my painting process and I am not interested with capturing some fleeting impression. I am more interested in searching for what endures in spite of change. Yet I value direct observation and working from life.  I can now sit and observe shadow patterns and explore shape relationships on the model that I could never see before, because they were always  obscured by trees and foliage.  I could never find a vantage point where I could observe the whole, I was always studying the parts.

If you happen to be on Cape Cod, my model will be at my show opening Saturday, August 1, reception 6-8 at the  Cove Gallery, Wellfleet, MA. The show will be up for a couple of weeks so please stop by.

 
                        
                           "Being Still"  36 x 36, oil on panel



Tuesday, February 10, 2015

Style


“I want to find my own style” is a comment I often hear from artists.  I had a student ask me the other day, how I developed my “style”. Of course, that got me to thinking about the whole concept.  I told her that “style” just comes about in a natural way; eventually you synthesize all the different approaches you have experimented with.  You filter through all the information you have absorbed and hold on to the parts that feel authentically “you”.

I have since thought of a pretty good analogy. We all remember learning to write in cursive. Some of us even remember learning the “Palmer Method”. How many of us have handwriting that really resembles that anymore? For a while, if you were anything like me, you experimented with what you wanted your handwriting to “look” like. I tried writing with no slant, with a backward slant, lots of loops, no loops. I had a name that ended in “y” which provided endless variations. But somewhere along the way, I settled into my “style” of writing. It wasn’t some intentional occurrence, it just happened. Handwriting experts claim they can tell a lot about someone by the way they write, and everyone’s style is unique. Painting is just another form of mark making, once you have achieved a certain level of confidence and ability, style will just happen all on it’s own.

Just paint, paint a lot.


Monday, June 2, 2014

Taking Risks


   
Last week I was totally inspired by the start I had on this painting.  I was so connected, in the moment, and the marks seemed to just channel through me. Fortunately, I took some photos along the way, so I have a memory and record of it to share here, for now it has been lost through my attempts to complete it. But, I am not going to beat myself up over it. It had some legitimate compositional errors (the above is a cropped detail, the original is 30x36) that needed to be addressed and I wasn’t going to let those remain even if others were willing to overlook them. I also didn't want to just crop the piece down to the composition that worked. As artists, if we aren’t willing to take risks in our work, we will never move beyond what we already know. We will continue to create work that is familiar and comfortable to us.  I took a risk, it didn’t pan out.  But I reserve the right to take that risk and not stop working when it reaches someone else’s idea of finished.  This isn’t an original thought. I went to a talk given by Amy Silman at the ICA in Boston (http://www.icaboston.org/exhibitions/exhibit/AmySillman/).  She remarked that she hated the question “When do you know a piece is finished”. She vehemently stated, “When I say it is!”  She said that she retains the right to totally destroy a piece in the process.  I concur. There were many discoveries I made while working on this piece that I will carry into future pieces, and I haven’t given up hope that this painting will become something respectable eventually.  I rarely abandon a painting, it may take years but sooner or later I will have recovered from the memory of what it once was, and I will discover what it can be now. Stayed tuned for the future incarnation!

Sunday, January 19, 2014

I Believe


The other day a student asked me whether I could come up with four or five questions that an artist could internally ask to help figure out where they want to go with their work. I wish I could think of an easy answer, but I fear it is a life long pursuit. That is both the good and bad news. If there were an end to the journey, then once it was reached what incentive would there be to press on? The bad news is that this means you are embarking on a journey of self-discovery that will more than likely be never ending, with the destination always feeling just beyond your reach. The more we know, the more we realize there is to know. At first it is easy because your focus is on perfecting the craft of your work. The real struggle only begins once you have achieved most of the technical hurdles.  That is the point when you must no longer draw from what is outside of you, but begin to draw from the well within you. This may feel daunting at first, but you need to just focus on the next step of your journey.

I believe there is more to art than just reproducing what something looks like. I say “just” but I realize that painting what something “looks” like is not an easy task, which is why so many artists continue to spend so much time trying to do just that.  Don’t misunderstand me, I am not discounting the need to perfect craft, I just don’t think that is the final destination. Once craft is perfected we may find ourselves thinking “now what?”  If perfecting craft is your present goal along this journey and it brings you satisfaction, then continue on. When the goal of perfecting craft has been achieved, you may feel yourself questioning whether there is something more to discover.

This does not have to be some sort of deep trip into psycho self-analysis.  But, it is the realization that all art is a form of communication. There is room for all levels of communication. It depends on what you are trying to communicate and who you want to be in conversation with. I think that music is a good analogy. Musicians must hit the right notes, but great musicians do more than hit the right notes, they impart something of themselves in the performance. There is more than the accuracy of their craft. There is something that can’t be described. That “something” is fleeting in a musical performance, as painters, we seek to give that “something” permanence in paint. Kandinsky did his best to explain this phenomenon.  He felt that a work of art is a physical object that springs from the inner being of the artist, but it is also the trigger point that begins a reverse process back into the inner being of the viewer. So the physical work of art becomes the bridge to an inner experience that was deeply felt by the artist.  If there is no initial force that was deeply felt within the artist, the work may be visually pleasing and adept, but lack that emotional bridge and connection. This connection is similar to the one that makes us weep when we hear a musician perform a piece with all his being.  We all have been moved my real art. But how do we create it?

Whatever your subject matter is, your painting should strive to be your intimate reaction to something. If what you see is all I get as a viewer, then art has lot some of its purpose and power.  I believe that the artist is more than a cook that knows how to put the ingredients together to make a tasty meal. As an artist, you must find the secret ingredient that only you possess.  You must somehow transform the materials into something that is more than the summation of its parts. As I often say, depending on your religious persuasion, you are either searching for magic or the hand of God in your work!

So back to my students question; if the answer lies within you, then that is where you must look for clues. We are very good at hiding from ourselves. A good idea is to keep a small journal where you can write down notes.  Perhaps begin a list of words that resonate with you, or sometimes one will jump out when you are reading. Write it down. Start to figure out what really interests or puzzles you. Do you like things organized or chaotic? What type of things do you collect? What makes your happy, what makes you angry?  Is there something that currently perplexes you? What is your personality, for better for worse? Make a list of adjectives that describe you, list your preferences and your dislikes. Watch for things that trigger you during the day for good or bad and write them down. What do you want to say?  If tomorrow was your last day on earth, and your next painting was all that was left behind to communicate to the future, what message would you want to send? Would you yell it or whisper it?


These are just possible jumping off points to begin a series. A series becomes the next step on your journey to discovering meaningful work. A series may go 4-6 paintings and then be exhausted, but lead you in a new direction. Or, a series may take 100 paintings to work through.  The important thing is that you start thinking about your work as being more that the depiction of something, it is something new and separate that has been created by you, through you, because of YOU.  Begin to paint what only you can paint!

Friday, December 2, 2011

Accepting the Stranger


One of the largest obstacles we face as artists is our limiting belief system regarding art. We say we are constantly striving to become “better” artists and we often approach this task by rejecting work that doesn’t appeal to us and seeking out art that reinforces our idea of what is good, what is to be emulated in our own work.

I met a young man the other day, probably around 16 years old. When his mother learned that I was an artist, she remarked that her son had talent but that he had run into a couple of art teachers that had discouraged him and that now he hardly drew at all anymore. Our first instinct is to condemn the insensitive art teacher, but my first thought was “well, if that is all it took to deter him, he might as well find another profession, for he is certainly going to run into more obstacles than a few discouraging teachers.” But of course, I didn’t say that. As a teacher myself, I was curious. After talking with the young man a while, I discovered the same blocks that subvert us all. He had already decided that he “knew” how and what he wanted to draw and didn’t want teachers telling him what to do. He was more than likely afraid of potential failure if he tried out the unfamiliar, the risk was too great. In reality, I am sure the teachers saw some raw talent that would have benefited from some rudimentary exercises that would continue to improve his drawing skills. They wanted to give him more tools, perhaps some color theory, maybe a few projects he didn’t find instantly pleasing or relevant for what he had already determined was important for him. At 16 he had already closed the door to what was foreign to him, the risky unknown. He had already limited his ideas to his narrow definition of what “he” liked to do. But I say that to limit ourselves to what we like is extremely limiting. I love it when people remark, “I don’t know much about art, but I know what I like” because the truth of that statement is really “I like what I know” and in reality I “know very little”. We can only expand what we know by inviting the stranger in. The more we open ourselves to the unknown, the more we discover there is to know, and that takes a certain amount of courage.

When we were infants, we responded to the familiar: our mothers face, a favorite blanket, or a favorite food. We loved it because it was familiar and comfortable. We rejected the things we didn’t like because we didn’t understand their potential value, they were foreign. Surely this analogy can be extended into many areas of life. It is a handicap we all share and I am no exception. We all like what we know, it is comfortable. In art, we recognize something that we have been taught is “good” or we have seen and appreciated before perhaps in a “master” work. But the flip side of that is that we often condemn what we don’t recognize – what is foreign and unfamiliar to our senses. The paradoxical nature of being an artist, a creator, is that we are often in search of the new. In fact, every great movement in art or artist that has endured 100 years after deceasing to exist discovered something new that was at first rejected because it was unfamiliar. People “liked what they knew” and on the flip side, hated what they didn’t recognize.

In Jonah Lehrer’s book “Proust was a Neuroscientist” he has a chapter about Igor Stravinsky. He talks about the first time that his music for the ballet “The Rite of Spring” was performed. Stravinsky wanted to create a “new” sound, one unfamiliar to his audience. One that challenged the way they thought about music, one that didn’t simply pander to the audience’s expectations. As the music began to build with clashing tensions and merciless momentum the audience began to scream and a riot ensued. They couldn’t bear the unfamiliar. They rejected the noise that was pretending to be music. According to Lehrer, “for the audience, Stravinsky’s new work was the sound of remorseless originality”. The crowd was expecting more of the familiar. “With The Rite Stravinsky had announced that it was time we learned something new”.

This is the take away. Our minds are more like plastic than stone, we can adapt to new ideas, we can accept the stranger in and eventually he may become an old familiar friend. In the case of music, neuroscience now knows that “our sense of sound is a work in progress. Neurons in the auditory cortex are constantly being altered by the songs and symphonies we listen to. Nothing is difficult forever”. I would extend this analogy to all art. We expect certain color harmonies, patterns, etc. We are taught to recognize the ones that are “pleasing”. When we come across an artist that challenges these norms, we revolt; it goes against everything we “know”. Eventually, given time, if we are willing to engage with the stranger we may see the innovation and learn to appreciate a new way of seeing.

So, what I hope to inspire, is that when we are faced with a new idea about art, or we see someone that has created something we don’t understand, or we are given advice by an instructor that just feels incredibly foreign – we can learn to suspend judgment. We can instead try it on for a while, let it sink in and simmer. It may never resonate or it may at some unexpected point in time cause us to say “aha, now I see”. To condemn the foreign is to shut the door to potentially expanding what we “like”. We must accept that our definition of art is always growing and expanding. Growth in this field depends on letting in ideas that may undermine our current beliefs. Beliefs are limiting and continuing to reinforce them will only limit the potential of art. The more we allow in, the more choices we have which in turn can make the decision process more difficult, but it is through the difficult choices that the largest reward comes.

Now, the catch, the more we expand and discover, the less familiar our work will become to others. Our work may become unpopular as fewer and fewer people have journeyed the same path as you so fewer will recognize anything familiar. Always remember that popular art certainly doesn’t equate with good, meaningful art, but it sure makes us feel good when we are popular! When our work becomes less popular, our self-esteem may plummet as well. But not if we remind ourselves that people “like what they know”. Hopefully people will take the time to get to know your work, and when given the opportunity we can help educate them. If one is sincere, and continues to work in a heart felt meaningful way, there will always be those that will recognize that sincerity, we must just be patient.

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Subjective vs. Objective


We often say that the value and merit of a work of art is subjective. That there is no real way to objectively discern a good painting from a not so good painting, that it is just a matter of opinion and unfortunately there are plenty of people willing to freely give theirs. Objective truth is a truth that exists independent of thought or an observer. This is the sort of truth that Cezanne was speaking of when he told Emile Bernard that the next time he spoke with him he would explain to him the truth in painting. Unfortunately, Cezanne died before he was able to convey that truth. Still, the notion that there is a truth in art is a question that has plagued many philosophers and sages much wiser than I. But back to the question, is Art subjective or objective? I believe that what is subjective is the knowledge of the critic or observer. I believe as Cezanne did, that the work, if done sincerely has an objective integrity and truth. It is the viewer that is often flawed by his own limited perception and belief systems. Another thought often misquoted is “a little knowledge is a dangerous thing”, if it were really “knowledge” it wouldn’t be dangerous. What often takes the place of real knowledge is belief, and as Plato pointed out, our beliefs are not always justified, but built on prejudices and misinformation. The reason the value and merit of art seems subjective, is that there is so much to learn to understand and appreciate about art and we are all limited beings who are destined to only glimpse a part of it. Through constant study, observation, and the willingness to remain open to the truth as it presents itself, I believe we can attain certain objectivity to the truth in art. We have to be willing to let go of the preconceptions and definitions we build along the way when new possibly conflicting truths are revealed. We must be satisfied by knowing we can never know the whole truth, because art refuses to be defined and limited, but that is exactly what makes it so powerful.

Sunday, October 10, 2010

Realism Revival


I recently gave a talk on Modernism at a local art association. This was a presentation that I prepared during graduate school and came from my struggle to figure out where I fit in to the mix of isms. I see my work as relatively representational, and at times I felt I was not "progressive" enough to fit into the contemporary art world. Sometimes my work was seen as "Nostalgic" and I soon learned that was a dirty word in the art world that quickly slid into the realm of sentimental, trite and at the worse, cliche. So, in order to better understand how representational art had gotten such a bad rap, I had to delve into the history books.

It was fascinating, and I realize that there is no easy answer to any of it. Basically, to long for the past and to create paintings that rekindle that longing is anti progressive. We have for some reason intrinsically locked art to science with the misbelief that one innovation supplants a previous discovery. Science revolts with new discoveries that discredits old facts, and art has been pulled into that same realm. Each new ism thinks they have the new definitive and all previous movements are old and decadent. Isn't this the way of so many things? Newer is better. We all want the coolest most innovative new car, but there will always be those that yearn for the classic or antique automobile. We want to be progressive, yet sometimes we long for a time when things were simpler. One is not better than the other, and yearning for something from the past doesn't have to be a weakness. But, during the 1850's being progressive and embracing technology was the only way to be, and anyone who refused to progress was seen to have inferior intellect. Now, doesn't this sound familiar? If you don't like abstract art, the natural assumption (by those that "know') is you just don't get it. And sometimes, I'll be the first to admit, this is absolutely true. But it isn't always the case!

So, what brings this to this blog today was a recent video I watched put together by Scott Burdick on "Beauty" (www.youtube.com/watch?v=qGX0_0VL06U" ). There are many well known realist artist today that feel slighted by the unfair attention that modern art seems to get at the expense of realism. The museums in turn influence the collectors. I touched on this phenomenon in my talk, according to "modern thought" realism belongs in the past and the job of art is to reflect the society and culture we live in today. I am not saying I agree with this statement, but I can't deny that there may be some validity in it. However, I don't think it was right when the modern movement slammed realism, and conversely it isn't right for realism to slam modernism because denigrating one form to raise another isn't right period.

I have made a vow not to condemn what I don't understand just because I don't understand it. This can be extremely difficult when one is looking at some abstract art. Sometimes someone can explain the value of a painting to me that I don't initally respond to and my eyes are opened and see it in a new way or sometimes I still don't get it. But I now hold my tongue from immediately saying "bull---t"! If it provokes discussion and provides meaning in some way to someone, terrific. If I don't get it, or if I need to read a text to get it, so what? If it makes be ponder an issue in a new way, then perhaps that is more important or at least as valid as me passively beholding a realistic work of art as beautiful. Is the piece less valid because someone has taken the time to think about it and shares his commentary with me? Is it only art if I get it immediately in the way I would get a painting that is more traditionally beautiful? Is beautiful the only criteria for good or bad work? Lets not limit art in any way shape or form, there is room for it all!

Long live beauty, nostalgia and sentiment in representational art, because sometimes we need to be reminded of the past. Long live expression and angst and passion in abstraction, because sometimes we need to be shaken and re-evaluate where we are going. Sometimes a symbol, no matter how crudely painted, draws attention to something in a way that a technically masterful realistic painting doesn't and visa versa. One is not better than the other, just different, they serve different purposes and functions in the world. Do not close yourself off to either type of art or all the others in between. For to do so, would be to limit your experience of the amazing diversity there is.

Picasso was as academically skilled as any of the realists portrayed in the video by Scott, yet Picasso found traditional painting vocabulary limited him and found war and death too horrid to portray with beautiful strokes of paint. So he had to create his own vocabulary and a new world of expression through abstraction was opened. Why can't we just accept the fact, "different strokes for different folks?" and that different times sometime require different modes of expression. I agree, abstract art is not as easily accessible as realism, but art isn't always about the instant gratification gained through recognition of the subject matter. Sometimes art requires active contemplation and sometimes the only meaning to be garnered is our own reaction. That doesn't make one better or worse. This is as crazy an argument, and as big a waste of breath as tying to define who God is or why he does or does not exist. Perhaps something different to everyone and to say my way is better that your way is just a waste of everyones time. Enough of the hierarchy's!

Saturday, May 1, 2010

What I used to know......

Once upon a time, I thought that art was something that was capable of being fully understood. I guess I thought it would be like learning to bake a cake. Given the raw ingredients and instructions on how to put it all together, I would be able to come up with a successful cake/painting. I have discovered that art tends to be a bit more elusive than this. In fact, the greatest lesson I have gained from years of study complete now with my Masters of Fine Arts in painting, is how much I really don't know. At one time this realization might have caused me great anxiety, and certainly at 18 who wants to be told that they will really never know all the answers. I am actually okay with realizing that I don't know everything there is to know about art, because to believe I know that would be to limit its potential. I believe that those with strong opinions have done just that, limited their options, and narrowed their vision for the security of feeling they have the answers. It is a bit like the 4 blind men trying to describe what an elephant looks like by the area they have touched. Art is like the elephant, larger than any of us can see totally with our limited human faculties. We are all striving, searching, developing, trying to
understand the part we have begun to grasp. But, I believe the danger comes when we think we have figured it out and go on to profess what we have discovered as the only truth. Then we close ourselves off to future discovery, then the different artistic groups clash, claiming it is about the color, value, line, no line, expression, observation, realism, abstraction, impressionism, expressionism etc., etc. I fall back on, the more I know, the less I know, the more I need to know, that is what keeps me honest as an artist. Emmerson said something like, speak your truth today and tomorrow speak your truth again even if it contradicts what you said yesterday, because "consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds". When you discover something new about art, especially when it contradicts your old beliefs, embrace it. Perhaps you have grasped a bit more of that elephant and what you have felt contradicts what you originally had surmised.
What an exciting opportunity for growth!