Art & Society, Part 2

The View from the Studio Door: How Artists Find Their Way in an Uncertain World
By Ted Orland (2006)

Chapter 3: Art & Society, Part 2

I’m feeling optimistic today, especially after reading your comments from the last post. Thank you! It’s time to return to Chapter 3 of Orland’s book:

There’s a pervasive myth, shared by artists and nonartists alike, that art is a product of genius, madness or serendipity. Wrong. Art is not the chance offspring of some cosmic (or genetic) roll of the dice. Art is mostly a product of hard work. I think there are two sides to this coin. On the one hand, some people are born with artistic genius, like Mozart, and on the other hand, everyone has an aesthetic sensibility and the potential for artistic expression in some form. But, this doesn’t mean that we’re guaranteed to make “great” art if we work hard. And, those born with artistic genius won’t become great artists if they fail to work at it.

Orland continues: One of the … truths about artmaking is that it’s more important to be productive than to be creative. If you’re productive your creativity will take care of itself. If you are not productive then how exactly is it you intend to be creative?

OK, Mr. Orland – we’re getting bogged-down with terms that need clarification: “genius,” “creativity,” “productivity.” At what point is someone clever enough to be considered a genius? At what point does an act become a “creative” act? What amount of productivity is considered enough for the serious artist? It all seems relative to me and there’s no clear answer in this chapter.

So, we move on to making the distinction between “creativity” and “the creative process.” Here, we turn to the ideas of David Bayles who believes that creativity involves innovation and the creative process means productivity. Orland writes: But to you – the maker- the important thing is whether one piece helps show you the way down the road to the next piece. Looking back over a pile of early pieces, you come to realize that it’s the ninety-nine percent you never show others that laid the groundwork for the one percent that soar.

This means that it’s the next painting and the painting after that, and so on that matter. As the author points out, you can make some great paintings early on but if nothing of significance follows then it doesn’t amount to a hill of beans. This is like the “one hit wonder” syndrome that characterizes many rock groups or the Hollywood standard line “What have you done lately?”

We’re left with this advice:

Annie Dillard – How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.

Ted Orland – Ordinary people make art when they make extraordinary concerns a part of their daily life.

I think I’ll head to the studio now… tomorrow, the rest of Chapter 3.

What are your thoughts?

Optimism & Art

It's the weekend - the time when I step away from the weighty job of reviewing the art theory books and have a little fun. This also gives me time to reflect on the substantive comments written by you. There's a lot to consider, but today I want to focus on "optimism." I've always thought that artmaking is an optimistic act, and our good friends Hallie and L.W. were good enough to remind us of this in yesterday's comments.

What makes art an optimistic act? For me, it's the hope and belief that the outcome of my endeavors will be something wonderful and meaningful to me. When I paint, I sometimes catch myself holding my breath. I'm fascinated and excited by the process. Brush to water to pigment to paper over and over again until something new appears - sometimes unexpectedly better than I had imagined. And, I get to do this day after day, week after week, and year after year! What could be more perfect?

But, there's even more: I see this in the works of others - YOUR work. It makes me realize what a precious and fragile community of artists we are. I love this community and want to protect it and nurture it. Nothing gives me more pleasure than to help other artists advance their work and professional standing. We need each other, especially (as Orland points out in his book) because we get little encouragement from the rest of the world.

This afternoon I treated myself to a movie. I went to see "Secretariat." Granted, the real story was "Disneyfied" to the point of some major distortions, but that doesn't matter. The point was to show the triumph of the human spirit in the face of adversity. It was a joyous celebration of individual strength. That's how I see life as an artist. It IS a struggle - there's no easy path. But isn't the struggle rewarding? Doesn't it make us value what we do even more? And, doesn't it help us value each other more as well?

So, my thought for the weekend can be distilled to this: embrace artmaking with joy and exuberance - no matter what.

Have a great weekend!

Art & Society

The View from the Studio Door: How Artists Find Their Way in an Uncertain World
By Ted Orland (2006)

Chapter 3: Art & Society, Part 1

Folks, I hope you had the opportunity to read the responses to yesterday’s post. They’re gems. Personally, I agree with Don’s eloquently stated viewpoint and hope you’ll read it along with all the other substantive comments. Today, we’ll move on to Chapter 3.

Orland segued into this chapter by previously suggesting that society dictates which is art and which isn’t. Perhaps this doesn’t resonate with artists since we have our own mindset about it. However, if you’ve ever tried selling your work or submitting it to a museum, you already know that society’s opinion matters.

In the best of worlds, artmaking would be encouraged, its destination would be clear, and society would cultivate the relationship between artist and audience. Oh, how I long for that perfect world! The author sees three looming problems for us artists:

Art plays no clear role in our culture.
Artists have little direct contact with their audience.
Artmaking is indulged, but rarely rewarded.

Yup, those are BIG problems. He writes becoming an artist means creating your own path and in all likelihood going it alone. It means relying almost entirely on yourself in a world that’s more or less indifferent to all that you do. Art may be recognized as a noble profession, but it rarely gets mistaken for a useful occupation. Orland has his fingers on the artist’s pulse. I can relate.

Before we all get depresssed, I should mention that there is a good side to all this. Going it alone gives us the best opportunity to listen to our own inner voice so we may express it through our art. This is what gives our work authenticity. So, the isolation is often necessary for meaningful expression and innovation.

But, Orland isn’t concerned with that here. He offers us perspective by writing about the condition of the generations of artists that have gone before us. Often, they were more connected to their families and communities, and their art was more integrated into religious and social institutions. The difference, as Orland sees it, is that earlier artists spoke for the community and recent artists speak to the community in their works. That is an important difference.

But, I see another big difference. Our predecessors were fewer in number and selected by society. Without that support, they couldn’t have existed. Today, we can support ourselves financially by other means while simultaneously engaging in artmaking. And, we have more opportunities to show the rest of the world our work with fewer restrictions on the content. We’ve come a long way, baby!

And then, there’s the paradigm shift from classical art to contemporary art that declares the subject of art IS art. The author asks: How deeply can art matter if the only fitting description of its meaning and purpose is “art for art’s sake”? Thus, Orland calls upon the art community to find a higher calling for our work – spiritually, educationally, and technically. Maybe that’s how you open the door to creating art that matters in a culture that otherwise displays little interest in the issues of substance. Can this be true?

More on this chapter next time.

And now, what are your thoughts?

Making Sense of Art, Part 2

The View from the Studio Door: How Artists Find Their Way in an Uncertain World
By Ted Orland (2006)

Chapter 2 continued: Making Sense of Art

Picking up where I left off, Orland acknowledges something most of you have stated in your comments: Many people, if asked why they make art, would disavow even having a choice in the matter. They’ll tell you with complete sincerity that they never asked to become artists – they simply feel compelled to share the truths they’ve discovered (or the truths that found them). That pretty much sums it up!

Once we discover the artist inside us, what do we do about it? The world is skeptical about self-labeled artists but the reality is that we must self-label; we must believe it about ourselves or no one else will.

Orland returns to the central question that plagues us all: What is Art? He draws from his own experience to define its characteristics (I’m paraphrasing):

Art is drawn from life

Art must be inclusive, not exclusive
Art elicits a response from the viewer

Interestingly, Orland believes that the most important parts of artmaking are those which demonstrate the least difference between people and animals. He arrives at this conclusion by explaining that artists rely more on intuition than intellect when artmaking, and that intuition is only a half-step removed from instinct.

And, he thinks that once we’ve identified a group of pieces that we consider “art” we should ask: What traits do all art-like works share in common with one another?”Therein lies the answer to the question about what is art. I believe we covered this topic when we discussed “The Art Instinct” many months ago. But, Orland offers another perspective.

We can’t use form, style, and genre as commonalities because there is such a wide variety. And, if we consider proportion, balance, rhythm, and harmony these terms will also apply to things other than “art.” Orland rightly points out that all these terms describe the product rather than the process. He feels that the most defining characteristic of art is the process itself and the authenticity of the artist’s motivation:

The sincerity of effort

The passion in its pursuit

The care in execution

So, now we’re left with an even bigger problem: If those qualities lie anywhere near the core of artmaking, then wouldn’t anyone qualify as an artist?”Hmmmm…. we must delve deeper. Perhaps the answer is rests with what society deems to be “art.”

OK – so we don’t get a definite answer to the question. I really didn’t expect one. Maybe it doesn’t matter. But, when you think about the necessity for professional artists to actually make a living from their art, then it is important. We can’t sell our product as “art” if it doesn’t meet society’s definition of “art.” Does the label matter? Yes, in the marketplace. Serious collectors, including fine art museums, must find value in the work, monetary as well as historical. So, we artists who are busy selling our work as “fine art” need to be concerned with what lies within the vague boundaries of the area known as “art” – or, starve.

What are your thoughts?

Making Sense of Art, Part I

The View From the Studio Door: How Artists Find Their Way in an Uncertain World
By Ted Orland (2006)

Chapter 2: Making Sense of Art

Art theories are good. Art theories are impressive. But hey, wait a minute – it’s the artists who do the work! Most every artist I’ve known is far more comfortable grappling with the difficulty of making art than with the seeming futility of talking about it, writes Orland. I agree! That’s why I challenged myself to start this blog and delve into dozens of books and discussions on art theory – I needed to understand the world of fine art a little better so I could comprehend my role in that world.

Of course, there’s the time-worn adage that art should speak for itself. While that’s important, I think there’s something more. For instance, I could limit my knowledge of my heritage to what I experience with only my living family members. But, there’s so much more to learn from previous generations. That knowledge gives me perspective about who I am. And, that’s what art theory does for me as well, it makes sense of my art by placing it in a larger context.

So, Orland tells us, while we absorb art through our senses, we think about art [or interpret art] in words. Oddly enough, we’ve been sensing and talking about art for millennia and we still can’t find a clear and concise definition for “art!” As Orland observes, The real boundaries of art are defined by the collective range of our minds, not by the collected works in anthologies. So, how will this author help us make sense of art?

This much we do know: long before there were art departments or art critics or art historians or art museums, there was simply art. Period. He goes on to say that it’s more useful to the artist to ask why art should be defined at all. That’s a good point. After all, I won’t stop making what I consider to be art just because someone assigns a definition that doesn’t apply to my work. Nevertheless, there exists a consciousness about art: we sense the meaning of the world unconsciously and capture that meaning through our art – and then we have to wait for our intellect to understand what we already knew.

Artists are always on the hook. The moment we achieve public notice we are asked to explain our motivations and our work within the context and lexicon of the present art scene. Galleries, museums, critics, and special exhibitions all require this of us. For instance, yesterday I was interviewed by an art magazine and had to explain myself and my work. It’s not enough that readers will see pictures of my work, they need my explanations as well.

Orland puts it this way: the moment you achieve even a modicum of success you will be asked to explain your work, and in the course of preparing for that eventuality you may well learn something about your art – and yourself – along the way:

Where, then, does your vision of the world reside?

What part of your art is drawn from history?

What part is prophecy?

What part is grounded in fact?

What part takes wing in fantasy?

These are great questions and I’d rather answer them myself than have others answer them for me.

How about you?

Tomorrow, I’ll finish the other half of this chapter.

Making Sense of the World

The View From the Studio Door: How Artists Find Their Way in an Uncertain World
By Ted Orland (2006)

Chapter 1: Making Sense of the World

Have you ever wondered why ours is the only species on the planet that makes art? I have, and so has Orland. Is it because we ourselves define art in a way that limits it to human endeavors, or is it that our minds and sensibilities are so uniquely different from other animals that we need to make art? I’m not talking about the elephant whose trainer puts a brush in its snout and lays out a few cans of paint and a canvas while suggesting that the beast dip and spread. Rather, it’s about why we deliberately make art and are conscious of what we’re making. Or maybe it doesn’t matter at all; we just do it. Orland attributes this to our highly distilled state of self-awareness, or consciousness.

As one neurosurgeon pessimistically noted, “If our brain were simple enough to be understood, we’d be too simple to understand it.” I don’t think I’ll lose any sleep over this.

For some reason, humans need to make art or, at least, experience it. This leads Orland to query What are we actually doing when we make art? Resolving uncertainty? Giving form to our experiences? Seeking emotional release? Declaring what we believe important? Expressing our belief system? For me, it’s all these reasons and more. I don’t question it – I just DO it.

The first half of this chapter is devoted to speculation about existential matters that are interesting, but not particularly practical or helpful. In any case, each artist sees the world a little differently. As the author points out: Perhaps art succeeds precisely because it remains ambiguous enough to allow others with wildly different mental sets to invest themselves in it. Maybe this is why art seems so dissimilar from “fact.”

Making sense of the world is an individual act. My sensibilities may be entirely dissimilar from yours, but perhaps you can understand mine anyway. My artmaking may be entirely different from yours, but perhaps you can understand it anyway. We have the capacity to do this and even enjoy it.

But while artists seem inordinately prone to bouts of uncertainty, really good artists also have strong internal compasses that send them dependably (if often intuitively) in the direction of those particular uncertainties that must attract or terrorize them. We are curious and creative beings, and that creativity, according to Orland, comes from seeing – from making sense of the world around us.

What are your thoughts?

The View From the Studio Door

The View From the Studio Door: How Artists Find Their Way in an Uncertain World
by Ted Orland (2006)

It’s time to begin a new book, and I found this one by Ted Orland who co-authored Art & Fear, a book we discussed here earlier.

The central questions that are answered, or at least discussed, in this book are:

What are we really doing when we make art?

What role (if any) does the artist have in our society?
How do we find our place in the artistic community?

These are essential questions and I can’t wait to see how Orland answers them. In the author’s own words: This is a book about the nature of artmaking. More precisely, it’s about the nature of artmaking as seen from the artist’s perspective – drawn from life and seasoned with experiences in a real world. It is, in essence, the view from my studio door.”

Orland intends to provide us with a practical philosophy of artmaking – something to help us navigate our world. He feels that for artists, theory and practice are always intertwined. I agree, and think that the conversational style of this book will stimulate our conversation on this blog. I hope you’ll join me.

Tomorrow: chapter 1.

Cezanne & Critics

Conversations with Cezanne
Michael Doran, Ed. (2001)

Cezanne had a lot to say about critics. For instance, in a conversation with Joachim Gasquet, son of Henri Gasquet who was Cezanne lifelong friend from childhood, Cezanne said:

Above all he [the artist] must shun all opinion not based on the intelligent observation of his own temperament. ..

I’ve said it a hundred times, those critics …. I want to write them all, all of them who haunt me, and tell them that there are three things which make up the basis of our craft, which you will never have and toward which I have been working for thirty-five years, three things: scruples, sincerity, submission. Scruples before ideas, sincerity before myself, and submission before the motif.

Although he may sound embittered, I think Cezanne’s observation is true. I’ve always been a little skeptical of “professional art critics” who don’t create art themselves. The internal process of creating art is just as important as the external act. Critics may understand art history, and, therefore, the importance of a body of work in that context, but do they really understand the act of making art for any particular artist? I don’t know. Maybe some critics do and others don’t. They can’t all be lumped together.

When I go to a museum or gallery to view paintings I first view the work intently to try and understand what the artist is saying to me before reading the explanation on the wall or pamphlet. That explanation will alter the way I see the work. Sometimes that’s good because it offers a historical context for the work. Other times it detracts from the work because the explanation is just someone’s opinion that instructs the viewer what to think. As an artist, I’d rather not have someone else’s opinions stand between my work and the viewing public.
Of course, my work hasn’t been subject to the intense scrutiny that is usually heaped upon great works of art like Cezanne’s, so I have nothing to complain about. I just feel sad about this aspect of the human condition: the need to tear down or diminish anything that rises to a higher plain – that elevates us. I think this is what Cezanne meant.

What are your thoughts?

More thoughts from Cezanne ...

Conversations with Cezanne
Michael Doran, Ed. (2001)

Continuing with notes provided by Cezanne’s son, here’s some more sage advice and insights by the famous artist:

15. Art is a religion. Its goal is the elevation of thought.
16. He who does not hunger for the absolute (perfection) is content with placid mediocrity.
17. An intellect’s excellence can be judged by the originality of its creation.
18. A mind that can organize powerfully is the most precious collaborator with sensibility in the realization of a work of art.
19. Art is the adaptation of things to our needs and tastes.
20. The technique of any art consists of a language and a logic.
21. Style is perfect when it is commensurate with the character and grandeur of the subject it interprets.
22. Style does not result from the slavish imitation of the old masters; it develops from the artist’s personal manner of feeling and expression.
23. The manner in which a work of art is rendered allows us to judge the distinction of the artist’s mind and insight.
24. The quest for novelty and originality is an artificial need which can never disguise banality and the absence of artistic temperament.

More gems!

One personal note: yesterday I was contacted by the Assistant Editor of Art Calendar. I’m being interviewed and will appear as the “Art Scuttlebutt.com online member of the month” in the December/January issue coming up. That’s right …. Finally, I’m“Miss December!” (wink & smile).

Have a great weekend!

Conversations with Cezanne

Conversations with Cezanne
Michael Doran, Ed. (2001)

Browsing through my bookshelves here in Maine I came across this book and think it's worth considering. I probably won’t review the entire book, which is a compilation of eyewitness texts which illustrate the last decades of Paul Cezanne’s life. But, there are several parts worth posting.


One of these eyewitness texts was written by the poet Leo Larguier in 1901. Larguier met Cezanne and befriended Cezanne’s son who provided him with these unaltered notes from his famous father:

1. Critics’ opinions about art are formulated more on literary principles than on aesthetic ones.
2. The artist must avoid literature in art.
3. Art is the manifestation of an exquisite sensitivity.
4. Sensitivity defines the individual. At its highest level, it identifies the artist.
5. Great sensitivity is the most powerful characteristic of any beautiful artistic creation.
6. The most seductive element in art is the artist’s own personality.
7. The artist gives form to his sensibility, to his own, innate individuality.
8. The nobility of an artist’s creation reveals his soul.
9. The artist materializes and individualizes.
10. The artist knows the joy of being able to communicate to others his excitement about nature, that masterpiece whose mysteries he believes he has deciphered.
11. Genius is the ability to renew one’s emotion by daily contact with nature.
12. For the artist seeing is creating; creating is composing.
13. Because the artist does not note down his emotions as the bird sings his song: he composes.
14. The universality of the immediate impact of a work of art does not indicate its importance.

These are gems, and I’ll continue the list with the next post. There’s lots to consider here before moving on.

What are your thoughts?