Inward Journey, Oil on canvas. 2008 (sold 04/08 )

The Reason, Oil on Canvas. 2008

So here are a couple of my newer paintings. I was hoping to have a photo of a third, that I just re-finished, but no luck getting a photo of it yet. I’ll post when I can, but just to give an idea of what I’m up to, I decided to post what I have now. My goal is to dialogue with other painters out there that really care about both the technical and conceptual aspects of their work. My palette in each of these is really rather minimal, but I try to stretch other boundaries to find visual interest.

The painting called Inward Journey is really more of an attempt to map out some technical questions (since I’ve mainly worked with the figure in the past). I wanted to see if I could find visual interest in a “fictional” landscape using really ambiguous forms. I really like the idea of not telling too much in a story, anyway. My approach was to emphasize soft vs. sharp and light/dark contrasts. I think a concept took over about mid-way though, and began to alter my focus (or even interest) slightly toward the work that I haven’t been able to post yet. The red painting “The Reason” (and most recent) is an attempt to involve a current interest I have in some recent discoveries in physics. I wanted to make it personal–an emotive space, maybe even meditative. My goal was to make it somehow not frightening, but hopeful. I’m not really trying to illustrate so much as create ambience though. The palette is very limited. A red/blue set close to complementary, flake white and Dutch brown (Williamsburg).

One of the most interesting blogs that I have recently discovered–not that I always agree with the author–is HT over on blogspot (which is why I have placed it in my list of links). His manner is forthright and unconcerned with maintaining academic “spot-on” objectivity. Please do not misunderstand me; objectivity plays a vital role in contexts of formal education. But there are other contexts where a more subjective commentary–such as those on HT (and eventually as a Shop Talk category here in Uberart)–may also play an educational role. Interestingly, his essays are opinionated and include early art and culture, the Renaissance and Baroque, and often current issues–although some of the latter may stray a bit from our topic. I’ll cite a comment he made not quite a year ago, that places a finger on precisely what I would like to develop as a focus here, in Uberart.

“Talking about likes and dislikes in painting is unacademic; it is unprofessional; it is no longer done by serious people. Which is a pity, of course, because that misses the whole point of painting, really, does it not, since the reason why painting is important – the only reason, at bottom why we bother with it – is that we like it. Not everyone the same thing, thank goodness, some this, some that; which is what makes for interesting conversations; and sometimes irritating ones. But, each for his or her own reasons, we spend time with them because we like them.” — HT

The trouble with speaking about art is that often we are kept from expressing what we most might wish to say–that a concept is amazing, but the brushwork is lousy, or vice-versa… and WHY we might believe so. It is my personal opinion that mixing technical with conceptual analysis is what can elevate us to new levels of understanding (education) and ultimately, as artists, to new levels of competency (artistry). For tonight, I will end on a question to you concerning a particular painting: Guido Reni’s Flagellation. I’m curious if anyone has seen this in person. I have spent many hours with it in Bologna, Italy (the Pinacoteca) and find it a very strange unfinished work. The dark tones around the bodies in the mid-section seem to be part of a build-up of the value composition, but they are quite green in real life, overpainted above the first sketch-in of paint, and transparent. The real question is regarding this: Notice how Reni has overpainted this green color over part of the mid-section of the figure on the left. Then notice that he later applied a second layer of coloring on the remaining section of that figure…without bothering to grade out the area made obscure with the green.

My question is somewhat rhetorical, but not entirely. I want to know more, but my aim here is to get some commentary going on technique. I personally believe that Reni is one of the greatest “composers” after Raphael, and believe that we can gain from talking about his work. Any comments?

When the contemporary world reads Homer, much of the poetry’s former “content”—its voice—goes unheard. Originally, the Odyssey was sung by an aoidos or poetry “singer”—a profession likened in honor to that of healers, seers, and craftsmen. But, even where Homer’s epic poem may have maintained a certain literal integrity, entropy actively transformed the world around it (us) for some three thousand years. Thus, the mighty sun god, Zeus, and his favorite daughter, “rosey-cheeked Dawn”, have since passed wholly into the indices of myth.

Interestingly enough, leading physicists today are guiding us to heed the sun’s power, to peer once again into the skies for potential solutions to mounting global issues—an act, in symbolic terms, not entirely unlike those of Odysseus’ own calls to the god of skies. According to Michio Kaku, co-founder of string field theory and Professor of Theoretical Physics at the City University of New York, humanity is currently facing a crucial transition from planetary (petroleum, coal) energy use to that of solar-driven energy. In his book, “Hyperspace: A Scientific Odyssey”, Kaku describes this transition as a dangerous maneuver, but one that, if successful, may grant a continuation of our species even despite ourselves.

Perhaps we shouldn’t be surprised, then, that Artemis, the fiber artist from Lichtenstein, is garnering international recognition and praise. Her pictorial voice is mythology made modern. Literally drawing the sun into her loom as she weaves, the artist works by daylight alone. But why, one might ask, would pure sunlight be important to a weaver, or to any artist for that matter? A simple, but incomplete answer would be that Artemis’ subject matter is light. For an artist taking on Odysseus’ epic journey home, what better way to channel light into the story as she weaves it? One might even wonder if the artist’s personal aim has been to dialogue directly with the gods. But a more complete answer would take into consideration Artemis’ potential to bring contemporary culture not simply to a deeper level of environmental awareness, but to a degree of environmental contact and immersion.

Technically, the use of color and form in Artemis’ work invites an immediate relationship with the viewer: it is an invitation to come closer. A level of visual combined with symbolic complexity then lures us into subtle narratives that are astonishingly sensitive in her work—one could easily argue that they are her work’s raison d’etre. The stories trace the human condition, by means of Odysseus, through various moments of hardship and bliss. In her work, “The Trojan Horse”, for example, only a nucleus of information of what is about to transpire is shown—but not the act itself. We are led to intuit the sweating brow of the soldiers hidden within, and of the blood that will eventually spill. But the battle takes place only in our minds. This level of abstraction and the undeniable aesthetic that Artemis employs opens the work to interpretation on many levels and permits a viewer response that can be richly emotive. Will we respond? Will the skies open up to guide Homer’s protagonist safely home? Listen closely to the song her tapestries sing: they have this, and many more secrets to tell.

(above left: Mannerist painting by Parmigianino; right: naturalist work by Annibale Carracci)

In 1589, with the founding of the Accademia degli Incamminati—now one of the oldest art academies in existence (see Accademia Clementina, Bologna, Italy)—members of the Carracci family sought to wrestle life back into art. The two brothers, Annibale and Agostino , along with their cousin Ludovico, set out to unite research of the natural environment with art education. Of the various reasons they wished to do so, one is of primary concern to many artists working today—and clarifies the purpose of this brief essay. The Carracci family wished to empower their Bolognese compatriots with the means to fully captivate an audience. This, of course, was in direct response to the very trendy manner (mannerism, see example by Parmigianino above left) of drawing that had, by then, saturated the region’s artistic schools of thought–and which had become so artificial, as to begin to erode public interest and eventually draw criticism upon the artists themselves.

Through an almost blind adherence to formulas set down by members of the previous generation, artists had lost sight of their public’s (read patrons’) needs to relate to the art they made. Most importantly, this manner came to dominate, even eclipse any naturalism to which their audience could respond. Imagine a figure whose neck is shown twisted inhumanly backwards in order to create beautiful negative space.

Ironically, four hundred years later, we find ourselves (as artists) in an analogous scenario, but one in which the mannered subject is no longer beauty. After all, few “contemporary”* artists are scrambling to refine their compositions or elongate their forms toward any notion of ideal aesthetic. Some readers may question whether a contemporary manner could even be possible given the multitude of directions art has recently taken. To clarify that it is not only possible, but tangible, and to index aspects of the mannerism growing today, is a central aim of this blog. For the moment, a few examples should suffice: the notion “if the public likes it, it can’t be good art“, outright rejection of pre-1945 influence, the ubiquitous…drip.

Oddly enough, a dominant tendency in contemporary mannerism is to obfuscate the artist’s intent, often dissociating the non-art public. Officially acceptable, however, are works reflecting (on and within) the “art world” itself, and those distancing the artist’s voice from the society at large. An erroneous belief commonly held by artists throughout modern history is that one’s work can or should be “free” from the constraints of the society which affords it. But this idea has consistently proven false, and for good reason. Never can the artist’s work—nor the actions of anyone—achieve complete autonomy. To do so would be libertine. In any case, one might ask, “for whom could that art be made, and why?”

Should artists leave public awareness to advertisers and corporate interests, who demonstrate great enthusiasm in directing culture? It is worth noting that those tendencies receiving the widest endorsement from today’s official art media, often benefit corporate and not public interests, on this issue. I personally believe that there is a point that artists today could take from the school of the Carracci, whose founders confronted a similar situation. They responded by choosing to empower themselves and others by re-examining nature–including their own place within it.

The means by which artists today might achieve the same is be the primary subject of this blog.