Your Excitement Meter

Wendy Richmond

Art Without Compromise by Wendy Richmond
Chapter 8: "Your Excitement Meter"
section 1: "Excitement Meter"

It's good to be back again and to catch up on your lively and informative discussion during my absence. What a wonderful group!!

I've moved ahead to the final chapter in Richmond's book, which I hope to complete and summarize by the end of this week. You'll notice that I've skipped Chapter 7 altogether, and parts of Chapter 6 because of the particular interests of this group, but highly recommend that you all purchase this book and read it.

The first section of Chapter 8, "Excitement Meter," begins with a paradox: Why is it that artists, who are innovative, self-motivated, nonconformists, become less inventive when they become career artists? That is, when an artists decides to turn pro, he/she will often follow a more conventional path that is paved with stones molded by the experiences, practices, and advice of others at the expense of fashioning their own unique path. The artist transforms in order to fit. This is an interesting paradox.

Fledgling career artists frequently seek Richmond's advice, and her solution to the paradox is not to give conventional advice, but to talk about her "excitement meter." This meter is defined as Richmond's internal gauge, an indicator of what I find interesting and positive and worth pursuing. When I have a positive reaction to something, I take care to notice it. I don't try to come to any conclusions; I just register the reaction. At some later point, I look at this collection of seemingly unrelated ideas or events, and I usually find a pattern that reveals that I didn't see when I experienced each element in isolation.

This solution to the paradox yields the greatest chance for innovation. I like the way the author reveals the recipe for innovation as the intersections of seemingly unconnected ideas or interests that the artists feels strongly about. Perhaps this is one good reason for artists to keep a journal. We need to look for and find those connections in order to be truly innovative and unique. The work of our good friend PAMO is a very recent example of Richmond's idea. Just recently, Pam linked together her cartoons and videography in a truly unique way that brings to life her work and the reactions of others to it. It's a multifacted approach to cartooning that involves the viewer to a large degree. That's innovation!

Richmond telescopes her idea to include a more personal kind of innovation... a new way of structuring a job, a career, a school, or a way of life. As she points out, innovation isn't exclusive to technology. We can fashion our careers by combining the things that excite us most. For an example, Richmond cites a woman who launched an innovative jazz dance studio in New York city with a sumer retreat by the ocean, thus combining what she loved.

The author concludes with the admonition to give attention to our excitement meters because, with vigilance and time, we'll read it more accurately. I like that advice.

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Before I close this post, I'd like to turn your attention to an interesting article about Rothko that was forwarded to me by our good friend Deborah Stearns. The article, from the Washington Post, is entitled "National Gallery exhibit challenges traditional view of Rothko's black paintings" and provides some wonderful insights that add to our recent discussions. To access the article, just click on the photograph below.



And now, your thoughts??

Why Do You Draw?

Vija Celmins - "I see drawing as thinking, as evidence of thinking, as evidence of going from one place to another."

Art Without Compromise by Wendy Richmond
Chapter 6: " Another Kind of Language"
section 6: "Why Do You Draw?"

I'll be leaving for a three-day trip tomorrow morning and so I thought I'd post something that everyone can chew on for several days until my next post. In Chapter 6 of her book, Richmond asks us why we artists draw. My immediate answer to the question is because when I was very young I was given crayons and paper and encouraged to draw. That encouragement continued throughout my life. And, once I learned to draw I liked it very much, so I had the desire to continue. Also, because I think in pictures rather than words, drawing is the easiest way for me to express my thoughts and feelings. Remember the game Pictionary? It was one of the few games that I could win.

But, my set of answers to Richmond's question won't necessarily be the same as someone else's, and to find answers the author conducted an informal poll among her colleagues, students, and readers. She placed their answers into these general categories that I'll paraphrase:

• drawing is a physical act that links the eye and hand in a way that's physically deeply satisfying

• drawing is a way of meditating because one must concentrate on only one thought while drawing and place all other thoughts aside

• on the other hand, drawing is enhanced thinking that requires time and concentration; it's a way of deeply studying something

• drawing is a conversation within the work, between one mark and another and between the mark-making and the surface

• drawing occurs because one has the ability to do it, and there's satisfaction in that accomplishment

• drawing allows the artist to closely observe the subject, either real or from the imagination, in order to understand it better

Why do you draw??

How often do you draw?

Do you prefer to draw what you see around you or from your imagination?

How important is drawing to your process as an artist?

Have a great long-weekend!

The Forward Momentum of Failure

Robert Rauschenberg

Art Without Compromise by Wendy Richmond
Chapter 6: " Another Kind of Language"
section 2: "The Forward Momentum of Failure"

It's probably safe to say that we've all experienced "failure" in one form or another when it comes to producing art, which is a risky enterprise. And, it's probably true that most of us learn from our failures after we've overcome the disappointments they bring. In this section of her book, Richmond emphasizes the importance of risk in making art. She writes: risk, I believe, is a place between unsure and sure, where you are in unknown territory, you can't see what's around the corner, and yet you continue, full speed ahead.

She cites Robert Rauschenberg, who said: "I usually work in a direction until I know how to do it, then I stop. At the time that I am bored or understand - I use those words interchangeably - another appetite has formed." Richmond notes here that Rauschenberg isn't just confronting uncertainty, he is sustaining uncertainty. In my opinion, that takes a lots of guts and confidence. As corny as this seems, it reminds me of the lyrics to Rodgers and Hammerstein's song from Carousel:

When you walk through a storm
Keep your chin up high
And don't be afraid of the dark.
At the end of the storm
Is a golden sky
And the sweet silver song of a lark.

Walk on through the wind,
Walk on through the rain,
Tho' your dreams be tossed and blown.
Walk on, walk on
With hope in your heart
And you'll never walk alone,
You'll never walk alone.

Doesn't that reflect the journey of the undaunted spirit of the artist?

Back to Richmond's book: This section is about the "forward momentum of failure" Wendy stresses the importance of the sum of our mistakes in the creative process.There is a forward directionality to it if we continue to take risks and and use them. Here, she cites Picasso, who said "My pictures are often made by a sum of destructions." I'm also reminded of something Helen van Wyck always said "My paintings are the record of a series of corrections."

Richmond concludes this section on a positive note: how refreshing it would be to look forward to failure! Imagine using it as a momentum to propel your work further.

And so it is that risk and failure pave the road to our success in art. Walk on, my friends!

Your thoughts??

Titles

Mark Rothko

Art Without Compromise by Wendy Richmond

This morning I read through several sections of Richmond's book and made the decision to cherry-pick what would be most interesting and relevant to the discussions on this blog. I found a sentence at the end of section 1 of Chapter 6 that triggered my imagination: Mark Rothko once said that the reason he didn't give titles to his mature paintings was because he was afraid that words would paralyze the viewer's imagination. This challenged my approach, since I was taught that a well-constructed title is important. I was also taught never to use the label Untitled. Now I'm thinking, isn't that silly? Maybe Rothko was correct. I can see both sides of the coin. On the one side, a title gives the viewer a sense of the artist's intention. On the other side, the viewer's interpretation could be more important than the artist's. So, I thought I'd look at a few titled paintings to evaluate this.

This is a painting by Picasso. Looking at it, I would have assigned a title that had something to do with sadness or despair (over having lost her clothes and not knowing where to find them ??). Picasso's title is "Blue Nude." It's a good title because "blue" could mean her mood as well as the dominant hue in the painting. But, if I read the title as meaning the hue it would make me feel less emotionally connected to the painting because I'd think that Picasso was just experimenting with the color blue (or a new tube of paint).

This painting by Richard Diebenkorn looks architectural to me, but mostly like a study in color design. His title is Ocean Park 67. I never would have thought that, so his title definitely influences how I think about this painting and limits my imagination.

This painting by Andrew Wyeth speaks to me about island life and the beauty of the wind blowing through carefully hung fishing nets. There's an ephemeral beauty to the work that also reminds me of life itself - aging and dying. Wyeth's title for the work is "Pentecost." Wow, that title really expands my imagination! Here's a title that enhances the viewer's imagination rather than limits it.

And then, there's the obvious title. I look at this painting by Edward Hopper and think "rotary phone." Guess what? His title is Rotary Phone.

So, let's come full circle back to Rothko. Below is a picture of two people standing before one of Rothko's "untitled" paintings. I wonder what they're thinking. What would you be thinking, and what title springs from your imagination?



Also, do you assign titles to your paintings?

Concentrating on Context

Edvard Munch

Art Without Compromise" by Wendy Richmond
Chapter 5: "The Medium Controls the Message"
section 2: "Concentrating on Context"

The weekend is over, the Oscars were fun, and I'm back on task reviewing Richmond's book. This section of Chapter 5 begins with the recognition of artists' desire to exhibit what we've created for others to view and appreciate. She also recognizes that artists can't control the meanings assigned by others to our work. And, in this age of innovative ways to reproduce our work, we artists have a hand in changing how our work is perceived. Richmond writes: each iteration moves a little farther away from you and a little bit deeper into a new context, and therefore, a new meaning.

Wendy's central point here is that an artwork's context can cause a change in perception and meaning. Context may be subtle, sometimes even invisible, but it is never neutral. That is, although I (the artist) know the meaning (content) of my work when I create it, once it leaves my hands and is displayed in a new environment, or once it's reproduced in a different form (context), the work can be perceived differently by others and the meaning can change.

I couldn't think of a better example of Richmond's point than The Scream by Edvard Munch:


The Scream by Munch

Here's Munch's statement about the content of this painting: I was walking down the road with two friends when the sun set; suddenly, the sky turned as red as blood. I stopped and leaned against the fence, feeling unspeakably tired. Tongues of fire and blood stretched over the bluish black fjord. My friends went on walking, while I lagged behind, shivering with fear. Then I heard the enormous, infinite scream of nature. He later added: for several years I was almost mad…You know my picture, ‘’The Scream?’’ I was stretched to the limit—nature was screaming in my blood… After that I gave up hope ever of being able to love again.

And, here's how we've changed Much's intended content:

The Simpsons cartoon, funny poster, doll:

Tote, mug, travel mug:

Clothing, tee shirt, tie, and thong (!):

I think that Richmond makes an important point in this section of her book, and would like to add a question. First, I'll add that this question considers the activities of the makers of fine art rather than commercial art. Although Munch did not endorse the many forms his painting has taken, nor did he live long enough to see the appropriation of The Scream in this way, many artists today are making the decision to reproduce their art in the form of greeting cards, ceramic tiles, and posters as well as some of the products shown above. I'll assume that this is done mostly for the purpose of bringing attention to their work and making more money. If that's true, does this mean that this type of artist subordinates the content of their work to its commercial value? And, if so, does that turn the artist into a commercial artist, or is that boundary fuzzy anyway?

Your thoughts??

Introspection

Folks, we've had a great discussion on this blog about introspection and Deborah has written a well-constructed essay that contributes much to our discussion. Please visit her post to read it: Deborah Stearns (click on her name).

Shaping Content

Bridget Riley

Art Without Compromise by Wendy Richmond
Chapter 5: "The Medium Controls the Message"
section 1: "Shaping Content"

When it comes to considering "content" in a work of art, there's no better book written than The Shape of Content by Ben Shahn. We discussed this book on my blog beginning on October 15, 2009, and it was fascinating. So, when I first read the title of this section of Richmond's book, I wondered what she could offer that Shahn had not already written. I found something.

Returning to her teaching experience at Harvard in this section, Wendy writes that "one of our goals in this course was to explore ways to use media and technology to maintain the integrity of content. In other words, it is important to know that before all the filtering begins, there is an intention, a story that someone wants to tell, and specific content to be delivered." In this section she describes a concept that was explored by her class using a number of different technological tools, and then evaluates the outcome. It's interesting and moves a little beyond Shahn's book.

However, I'm reminded of Don's comment yesterday: "every generation of artists has had new tools and technologies to either embrace or reject." If I expand that comment to include the fact that the goal of each artist throughout time has been to tell a story, then it appears that nothing has changed. As Stan wrote: "Art will continue to be created in new and different ways, but its purpose will never deviate regardless of the course of history and or technological advances."

Given the myriad of ways in which an artist can express her/himself through both content and media, it appears to me that the selection process is critically important. It's like being a kid in a candy store: too many types of candy, too enticing, and too hard to make a decision. Richmond's artistic creations explore the digital age in a relevant way. Her latest exhibition is electronic and deals with communication through the cell phone. I admire her work, but find my desire to create art with traditional materials like paint and paper or canvas overwhelms any thoughts about becoming "digital." Am I out of touch? Is my work less relevant? Have I failed to expand my horizons so that my work may speak to future generations rather than my own? These are the questions that run through my mind as I read Richmond's book. My conclusion is that if my work is irrelevant, then it will have to remain so. The reason is this: I've answered Ben Shahn's questions "What kind of person am I?" and "What kind of art coincides with who I am?" and THIS is IT for me. Will IT change for me in the future? I don't know, but am willing to venture through the myriad of pathways that are intricately connected in my pscyhe to find out.

What are your thoughts?

Questioning the Tools

Man Ray

Art Without Compromise by Wendy Richmond
Chapter 4: "Questioning the Tools"

Because the subject of Chapter 4 is technological tools, I'll consider all six sections at once. Here, the author considers the utility and impact of the cell phone, digital camera, and computer upon our daily lives and in creating art. By now, I suspect that all of you who are reading this blog utilize these technologies on a regular basis, so you'll be able to relate.

What interests me most are the summary thoughts in each section of this chapter:

The more I learn, the more excited I am about the cell phone's potential to add to my life, and the more anxious I become about what it has already taken away - like my long walks where I am alone with myself. (K.C. - turn off the cell phone an leave it at home! That's what I do.)

Most of the devices that we had twenty-five years ago have advanced in service beyond our wildest imaginations, but they have become increasingly complex in usability. (K.C. - Nevertheless, isn't it interesting how 5-year old kids can easily navigate a computer and cell phone??)

We have a relationship with each piece of technology we use. We rarely ponder how that relationship affects our actions, our choices, or even our creative goals. (K.C. - how true!)

Maintaining balance requires diligent attention. Professionals and amateurs alike, in any of the arts, sometimes wander off their intended paths and get tangled in the thicket of technique... When the work is in balance, technique is neither the hero nor the enemy. (K.C. - a wise statement, indeed)

Do new inventions make us wiser, or do these tools weaken our powers of thought and understanding? Is technology an aid or a hindrance to our ability to be creative, insightful human beings? (K.C. - I could answer "yes" and "no" to both questions)

How will future historians deal with this abundant and wildly diverse data? Will this profusion become so overwhelming that the only way to make sense of it will be to make it quantifiable, assembling stories with statistics and logic instead of soul? In the future, will history be more true or more false? (K.C. - IMHO, "history" is always more false than true because it requires human observation and reasoning, which is always flawed by bias and cognitive limitations.)

I must admit that I have little interest in exploring all the utilities available to me through technology, although I do use a cell phone (rarely), computer (daily), and digital camera (frequently). However, I find more satisfaction in using simple tools like pencil, paper, paint, and canvas. Many of you are much more advanced and so it would be good to learn about your thoughts and experiences.

The Work in the Exhibit

Andy Warhol, 1977

Art Without Compromise by Wendy Richmond
Chapter 3: "Life Support"
section 6: "The Work in the Exhibit"

This chapter of Richmond's book is increasingly centered upon her teaching experiences at the Harvard Graduate School of Education, and this section is no different. Luckily, there are many gems to be mined here. An important aspect of her graduate course is the student exhibition, which they are responsible for planning and installing. An important goal is to show a completed body of work and to create an exhibition that equally supports the efforts of all the students in the best light. Because most of my readers are solo artists, so I'll skip the details and get to the part that applies to us.

There are three thoughts I'd like to pursue:
1. creating a quality exhibit
2. learning from the audience reaction to our work
3. deadlines

1. Creating a quality exhibit that best shows our work is essential. I've seen far too many artists relinquish control over how their work is exhibited to their detriment. Poor lighting, incorrect placement, crowding of work, improper labeling, etc. are among the many problems that mar the appearance of an exhibit. I remember dropping off a painting to a gallery director once, and was appalled to see that work that she had received from another artist was stacked willy-nilly, one on top of the other, so that the plexiglass glazing was being scratched by the paintings on top. When I pointed this out to her and asked her to treat my work with more care, she seemed both uncomprehending and offended. However, if I don't concern myself with these details, it affects both my income and artistic reputation.

2. Frequently, I inconspicuously stand where I can hear and see people's reaction to my work. I don't mind the criticisms and harsh reactions as much as I mind it when someone quickly strolls past giving my work only a glance. Whether or not someone likes my work isn't nearly as important than the ability of my painting to evoke a reaction from the audience. To me, that's a success. If there are too many passers-by, then I know it's time to improve my paintings.

3. Deadlines. I love them! They keep me on track and make me work harder. If I don't have a deadline coming up, then I look for opportunities to find a project with a deadline. If I can't find one, then I create artifical deadlines. Maybe this makes me crazy, but I need it to stay energetic in my work.

What are your experiences and thoughts??

Your Portrait or Mine?

Wayne Thiebaud

Art Without Compromise by Wendy Richmond
Chapter 3: "Life Support"
section 5: "Your Portrait or Mine?"

I prefer to get to the point of this section of Richmond's book rather than wander through all aspects of it because there's something profound here about how we artists produce our work. The question "Your Portrait or Mine?" refers to a project she assigned to students of the Harvard Graduate School of Education that involved creating expressive portraits. These students faced the problem of how to exert artistic control when confronted with the challenge of representing their subject's view while expressing their own as artists. And, due to the complexity of the project, they faced even greater challenges that are related in the book.

When I read Richmond's thoughts about this project and the difficulties that her students encountered, my mind began to race from the text to personal experience. Maintaining artistic control in portraiture can be difficult since representing the subject requires the ability to create a particular likeness while revealing the subject's personality. However, the artist always views the subject through her own lens, which automatically imposes other qualities upon the subject. This is what brings authenticity to the work. Since I'm not much of a portrait painter, I'll extend this notion to all subjects.

To me, artistic control means that the artist speaks in his/her own voice, and if that voice is repressed then the work isn't authentic. So, I began to think about what makes us relinquish artistic control; things like paying too much attention to the opinions of others, lack of confidence in one's own voice or ability, trying to satisfy the marketplace instead of self-expression, and so on. And, once we've been hijacked, how difficult is it to regain control?

This ties in a bit with some of our earlier discussions about the importance of using our intuition when we work. Relying on our intuition to a certain extent gives us full control of artistic expression because it springs from our subconscious. It's a delicate balance, and in this section Richmond includes a great quotation from artist Wayne Thiebaud: When an artist or viewer feels involved in a work, they relate to that work as a living thing, with a sense of exhilaration and freshness of spirit. It is primarily an intuitive process that can give the work a life force. In contrast, finishing off demands an intellectual process, a neat tying together of things in a way we 'think' is correct." Thiebauld strives to forestall the absolute resolution of a work which can be dangerously close to the art of taxidermy, writes Richmond.

So, when I ponder the thematic question "Your portrait or mine?" I consider who's in control of my work and the importance of the intuitive process.

Your thoughts??