Image and Manners

Our good friend, and plein air painter, Celeste, remarked yesterday about the questions people ask her while she's painting. It reminded me of a story that is the jumping-off point for a discussion about the image we artists project in society, and our "manners." Here's the story:




(This photo was taken by Bob Travis)


For those of you who aren't familiar, Monhegan a very small island (3 miles long, 1.5 miles wide) twelve miles off the coast of Maine near my summer home. Before building my home, I'd spend summer vacations there because of the superb hiking trails, quaint seaside village, and artists' colony. The photo above shows Monhegan village by the water.


Anyway, one day I was walking down the unpaved road through the village and came upon an artist who had set up her easel right next to the road where there's heavy foot traffic (no cars). Just as I was walking by, trying not to gawk at her work, a man stopped and began to photograph her while she was painting. She flipped out! Turning on the man, she scolded him for taking the picture without first asking permission and rebuked him for several embarrassing minutes. Of course, I and many other passers-by, stopped in our tracks to see what was going to happen. The man tried to apologize, but the artist was relentless in her scolding. He eventually wandered off looking wounded.



This got me to thinking about how we artists deal with the public. Some of the stories shared in yesterday's comments reveal that people frequently ask us questions that can be offensive without knowing it. How we handle those situations reflects upon the general reputation of artists. What I mean is, people who aren't professional artists learn about who we are as a group by their interactions with us. So, the "manners" of each artist affect the group as a whole.



The big question is: How do we artists wish to be perceived?


There's the age-old image that we're all a bunch of lunatics with wildly eccentric and unpredictable behavior. I doubt that very few artists genuinely fit that description.


Then there's the "elite" bunch of artists that think they walk on water. To me, they're phonies.


Another group is so insecure that they need constant attention and praise or they resort to whining and depression. They are the "it's all about ME" bunch. I hope that's a small group.


And then there's the group, which I think is probably the largest number of us, that's well-mannered, pleasant to deal with, and socialized enough to engage in normal interaction with the public.


But, whichever group we identify with, the fact remains that our individual behavior influences how the public perceives us as a whole. Am I my brother's keeper? Yes. I'll remember that the next time someone asks me a rude question.

Your thoughts??

How Long Did That Take You??

I was thinking about Egmont's recent comment about the length of time he spends on some of his paintings, and thought it might be a good topic. How many times has someone asked you "How long did it take you to paint that?" I've heard it over and over again, and wonder if people think that more time equals higher value. Personally, I don't believe it.

Some artists, when asked this question, respond: "It's taken all the years of my life to paint this." That's a good point; the amount of time spent applying paint to canvas is minimal compared to the amount of time we spent learning our art and attending to it. And, by extension, everything we've done and learned over time counts toward the amount of time spent on each painting we produce.


Here's a good example. A wonderful artist that I knew before he moved away from this area, works very quickly in watercolor. His name is Bruce Handford and here's an example of his work:






Bruce entered a painting very similar to this in a juried exhibition that I was part of, and told me that it took him only 45 minutes to paint it, AND, he won first prize that evening. On the other hand, my entry (below), which took me over 100 hours to paint in gouache, won only an honorable mention in the same show:





Now, I realize that a judge's opinion is subjective, but the point remains that the amount of time spent on a painting has little to do with its artistic worth or commercial value. It also has little to do with the relative importance of a work. The Impressionists come to mind because many of them painted very rapidly to capture an impression of a scene. Some of that work is important enough to hang in museums or be sold for millions of dollars. This, alone, informs us that the particular vision of an artist and his/her ability to execute it in a masterful way is far more important than the amount of time spent putting paint on canvas.


This leads me to ask another question: How much time is ENOUGH when working on a painting? I guess that would lead us to the previous post about deciding when a work is "finished."


The next time someone asks me how long it took me to "paint that," I'll have to ask them why it matters. And, maybe I'll also add "all my life!"

When is My Painting Finished?

Six Crimee by Basquiat, 1982, triptych

Our recent discussion raised an important question about an artist’s process in contrast to that of a craftsman. As Denis Dutton put it: the craftsman knows in advance when he'll be finished. For the artist, that is always a big question. Even when you think you're finished, you may change your mind. (Or, in the case of painting, wish you'd quit half an hour ago.)

I’ve been thinking about this. How can I know when my painting is finished? How can any artist know? My viewpoint has been rather simple: your painting is finished when any changes or additions will diminish the desired effect. But, the artist isn’t always the best judge. Commonly, I overwork my paintings and have to force myself to stop.

I decided to conduct an online search to see how other artists decide when a painting is finished. I only found two sites, so maybe you have more information to add to this discussion. Here’s what I found:

Watercolor artist Caroline Buchanan writes that a painting is finished when it comes into balance. When everything is there for a purpose and working together, and when there is not one thing (stroke, object, color) that is not contributing to the whole. That’s a tall order, but something I want to strive for each time I paint.

By contrast, Jo-Anne Sanborn wrote an article listing a number of specific criteria to help the artist determine when a painting is finished. Here’s the list:

Composition:
1. Is the underlying abstract (drawing) strong and defined?
2. Are the weights (lights and darks) and colors of the painting balanced in an appropriately asymmetrical fashion?
3. Are the shapes of all negative spaces varied and pleasing?
4. Does the eye have visual paths to follow, keeping interest on the canvas?
5. Can you find any walls or other impediments to the eye that shouldn’t be there?
6. Are transitions to and from various parts of the painting seamless?
7. Will the viewers’ eyes return to the focal point after moving around the canvas?

Color:
1. Is a color strategy clearly defined and executed?
2. Do either warm or cool colors predominate, with the other supporting?
3. Is each hue consistent throughout the painting?
4. Is any one color too prominent at the expense of the others?
5. Are there any jarring or popping colors that should be eliminated?

Mood:
1. Does the technique or style fit the subject matter?
2. Does the color palette support the intended mood?
3. Is the light source consistent?
4. Are the cast shadows consistent with the light source?
5. Is the feeling of the painting consistent across the entire canvas?

Craftsmanship:
1. Are the materials used of good enough quality to stand the test of time?
2. Are the painted forms drawn correctly and visually believable?
3. Is the perspective correct and consistent?
4. Has the paint been applied in a uniform and deliberate fashion?
5. Is the painting attributable to the artist through a definitive signature or style?
6. Is there a final protective coating (appropriate to the work) sealing the painting?

This is a fairly comprehensive list and well-worth considering. How do you determine when your painting is finished?

Art vs. Craft

This is my 100th post! Inspired by Pam and Mary’s recent conversation about “art” vs. “craft,” I’ll dedicate this post to that topic and solicit your opinions.

I’ll turn to Denis Dutton’s book once again for enlightenment. Like fine art, craft requires skill and competence. However, fine art needs “special talent,” as Dutton puts it. Craft, according to R.G. Collingwood, “is skilled work purposefully directed toward a final product or designed artifact; the craftsman knows in advance what the end product will look like.” The creation of art, unlike craft, is subject to a creative process that allows for some or total change while the work of art is being created. This is because the artist doesn’t follow a particular formula or recipe to create a painting. The painting emerges from the artist’s thoughts and ideas. Artists can change their minds during the process. By contrast, a craftsman who’s building a chair, for instance, can make no significant alterations to the chair plan or it won't function.

As Collingwood states, the arts are always open to the unexpected … a change in a single brushstroke can change not only the meaning of the work but the artist’s entire objective. Additionally, art expresses emotion by, as Dutton writes, “probing the content of human emotional life with an eye toward articulating, or making clear, a unique emotion, an individual feeling.” Only the artist has the ability to declare the endpoint to the work. For craft, the endpoint is predetermined.

Dutton also likens the difference between “craft” and “art” to the difference between a “paint by numbers” painting where the outcome is predetermined and the idea is not original to the painter, and a blank canvas that is painted by one who is rendering unique expression of a unique idea.

Your thoughts?

Kitsch

Kitsch. We use the term all the time and apply it liberally. But what does the word really mean? According to one dictionary, kitsch is something of tawdry design, appearance, or content created to appeal to popular or undiscriminating taste. I’ve spent a little time reading about kitsch in various books and also on the web. One of the best sites I found is here. I’ll summarize a few of the ideas from this site and also embellish where necessary.

History of the word: The word kitsch may have originated in the 1860’s in the Munich art markets to describe cheap, hotly marketable pictures or sketches. It may have come from the German verb verkitschen, which means to “make cheap.” Eventually, the word was applied to works that were produced specifically to emotionally appeal to a particular consumers.

By the 1930’s the word kitsch became popular when the art theorists, Theodor Adorno, Hermann Broch, and Clement Greenberg, tried to differentiate between avant-garde and kitsch. These theorists defined kitsch by using the Marxist term “false consciousness” and Adorno embellished on this by applying the term “culture industry” to define kitsch as an art form that is market driven. He called this type of art a “parody of catharsis” and a “parody of aesthetic consciousness.” I think this fits together with Denis Dutton’s idea, which I posted earlier, that kitsch promotes self-consciousness and is self-congratulatory by openly declaring itself "beautiful" or "profound" or "important."

Hermann Broch went so far as to call kitsch “evil” because it systematically imitates creative art in order to achieve “beauty” at the expense of “truth.” This also fits Dutton’s ideas about authenticity and the purpose of the artist.

The Czech writer, Milan Kundera, felt that kitsch offers a sanitized view of the world that eliminates the difficult aspects of life including individualism, doubt, and irony. Perhaps it is for this reason, and also the market-driven aspect, that Thomas Kinkade’s work has been labeled as kitsch.

Denis Dutton’s illuminating discussion on kitsch may be found at this site, if you're interested. He writes that “kitsch can thus be defined as a kind of pseudo-art which has an essential attribute of borrowing or parasitism, and whose essential function is to flatter, soothe, and reassure its viewer and consumer.” He further discusses various examples that are worth considering if you’d like to take a look.

If you’re interested in expressing an opinion about a particular work of art, consider responding to the poll found at this fun site. Or, take the kitsch tour of the U.S.A. found online here. After all, kitch, when it's self-effacing, can be a lot of fun!



Finally, the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City has a wonderful website devoted to kitsch that’s well-worth reading. Great examples are offered. The opinion of the author of this site is that kitsch is most closely associated with art that is sentimental; however, it can be used to refer to any type of art that is deficient for similar reasons—whether it tries to appear sentimental, glamorous, theatrical, or creative, kitsch is said to be a gesture imitative of the superficial appearances of art. It is often said that kitsch relies on merely repeating convention and formula, lacking the sense of creativity and originality displayed in genuine art.

Why do I care about what is and isn’t kitsch? For a couple of reasons: first, I don’t want to be found guilty of creating it, so I need to understand what it is and where the dividing line exists and, second, as an artist and art instructor I think it’s important to help inform the general public about the difference. However, I don’t interfere with the taste and preferences of others. If someone wants to buy kitsch, that’s fine with me as long as they understand that they’re not investing in fine art. After all, how can I possibly criticize the tastes of others when I’ve got a beanie baby sitting on my bedroom dresser?!

Signatures, Styles, and Spelling

Imagine if I tried to sign all my paintings with my full name: Katharine A. Cartwright? There wouldn't be any room left for the painting! Sometimes I use my initials in a stylized way, but that doesn't seem to relay enough information. Sometimes I just sign K.A. Cartwright, but it really doesn't look great. Also, my penmanship with a brush is, let's just say, poor. Some artists don't sign their work at all. In contrast, some artists' signatures are so prominant that they detract from the artwork itself. And, others make up pseudonyms, which seems like a good idea.

And then, there's the perennial problem I face trying to help people spell my name correctly. I can't blame them much, there are over 20 ways to spell Katharine! Mine, unfortunately, has two a's: K-A-T-H-A-R-I-N-E. Most people turn the second "a" into an "e" and sometimes the "K" into a "C." I think that Cher had the right idea: one name, easy to say, easy to spell.

Anyway, back to signatures on paintings. I was taught to place my signature in one of the lower corners and make it blend in, but not too much. I was also taught to write neatly (not so good at that part). Here are some signatures by noted artists:

August Renoir signed this painting "A. Renoir - 74 ." on the lower left. He kept his signature small and used a color that blended in (I enhanced the contrast on the signature blow-up so you could read it). He included the year as well. As you can see, his signature doesn't detract from the painting at all.

Vincent Van Gogh (below) signed this painting on the lower right using only his first name and under it, the title of the painting. His signature blends in and doesn't contrast much with the picture field.

And then, there's the use of a pseudonym. Duschamp's urinal signed "R. Mutt" is a classic example:

One of the latest "fads" in this country is using the Chinese "chop" to sign paintings (in red on painting below). They're beautiful and you can order them online to convey whatever message you wish. However, I don't use them because they're not a part of my cultural heritage.

I'll try to avoid using too many images here, but will mention that I've seen huge signatures and signatures painted in great contrast so they stick out like a sore thumb. Some artists don't use paint at all when they sign a painting; instead they use pencil, a Sharpie, or scrape their name into the paint.

I guess there are all sorts of approaches. I haven't landed on anything that suits me yet. I'm still working on finding ways to help people spell my name correctly :-)

The Greatest Works of Art: Characteristics

Denis Dutton, in his book The Art Instinct, identifies the central characteristics that inhere in the greatest works of art. I find this very interesting and am presenting them below for discussion. When you have the chance, read them and please share your thoughts.

According to Dutton:

1. Complexity - the greatest art incites pleasure by presenting audiences with the highest degree of meaning/complexity the mind can grasp. But, "complexity" does not mean sheer complicatedness. Rather it means significant interrelations; layers of meaning that form a unified whole. These works yield up deep, intricate imaginative experiences and are marked by the utmost lucidity and coherence.

2. Serious content - the themes of great works are love, death, and human fate. Artistic masterpieces need not be solemn and can end joyfully, but even when they do, they are not merely jolly and amusing, and offer an implicit nod to the finitude of life and aspiration. The arts do not attain greatness through prettiness or attractiveness.

3. Purpose - great works of art rely on the authenticity of artistic purpose - a sense that the artist means it. This falls in line with Tolstoy's view that artistic value is achieved only when an art work expresses the authentic values of its maker.

4. Distance - there is a cool objectivity about the greatest works of art: the worlds they create have little direct regard for our insistent wants and needs; still less do they show any intention on the part of their creators to ingratiate themselves with us. Ingratiation is left to the creators of kitsch, which promotes self-consciousness and is self-congratulatory by openly declaring itself "beautiful" or "profound" or "important." Great art stands apart in their own worlds.

In summary, Dutton states: The oft-described spirituality of artistic masterpieces, their otherworldly quality, is in contrast authentic, and involves a feeling that standing before a masterpiece you are in the presence of a power that exceeds anything you can imagine for yourself, something greater than you ever can or will be. The rapture masterpieces offer is literally ecstatic - taking you out of yourself.

Yesterday's comments demonstrate that we've all had this experience.

Your thoughts??

First Impressions, Lasting Impressions

When I was fifteen years old, my art instructor arranged for a visit the Sterling and Francine Clark Art Museum in Williamstown, Massachusetts. As I walked through the galleries, nothing really interested me until I stood before Fume'e d'Ambre Gris by John Singer Sargent. I was mesmerized and couldn't move! To me, this painting was a miracle, and one that I would never forget. Since that time, many decades ago, I've traveled to the Clark to see this painting at least forty times. At this point, I understand Sargent's technical achievement, but remain in awe nevertheless. This painting made me fall in love with what I call "white on white" painting and so I began to study it. I realized that the illusion is achieved through temperature change and by predominantly using high-key values. The temperature change occurs by adding to white either "warm" colors (yellows, oranges, reds) or "cool" colors (blues, violets, blue greens). Here are some other "white on white" paintings that fascinate me:

Jasper Johns, White Flag (below)

Georgia O'Keeffe, Iris (below)

Greg Mort, River of Life (below)

Richard Diebenkorn, Ocean Park #54 (below)

It's logical to ask how these works have influenced my art. Honestly, I still don't know. My paintings are usually highly chromatic. Yet, the paintings that I love are just the opposite. Is it true that "opposites attract?"

What work made a first and lasting impression on you?

Art is "GOOD" for Us!

This image comes from the Art for Healing program at the Hartford Hospital.

I've completed reading about a third of Denis Dutton's book The Art Instinct and landed on another interesting point: that the arts are commonly thought to be good for us. Dutton names some of the ways:

art....

• gives us a sense of well-being or feelings of comfort
  
• helps us see deeper into the human psyche


• aids convalescents in hospitals to recover more quickly


• gives us a better appreciation of the natural world


• may bind communities together


• may show us the virtues of cultivating our individuality


• offers consolation in moments of life crisis


• soothes the nerves


• produces a beneficial psychological catharsis that purges emotions to clear the mind
  

I think that all these benefits, as Dutton states them, are real. Our friend, Carolyn Abrams, has been teaching art to disabled adults and veterans for years, and understands the therapeutic value of art. The American Art Therapy Association states their mission as: dedicated to the belief that the creative process involved in making art is healing and life enhancing. So, Dutton's notion that art is good for us is generally accepted and institutionalized. It provides another purpose for what we artists do, something that extends far beyond our individual desire to create.

It's always been interesting for me to know where people hang the paintings they purchase from me. Sometimes, they contact me to let me know that they've hung the painting on the wall across from their favorite easy chair, or in the bedroom, or some other place where they can daily return to the emotion it evokes in them.

Most of us respond to art that way. It is therapeutic for us when we're depressed or insecure or angry, we can to listen to music, look at something beautiful, watch a good movie. Art is mood-altering, and that alteration seems to have medical benefits.

It's good to know that art is more than just the product of an artist's imagination. Its benefits are far-reaching.



Your thoughts??

Content vs. Artistry

I'm fortunate enough to belong to a group of highly accomplished artists who are good enough to critique my work. So, I put before them these three paintings that I posted a couple of days ago and made revisions from their suggestions (above). Mainly, I needed to achieve greater focus and unity in each painting. They're better now. However, I need to address a more important problem: Never let the message get in the way of artistry. Artistry is always more important than the message. In this case, I had let the content of this work get in the way. And, I KNEW better! I was too immersed in the excitement of the details that I forgot to be painterly. This will be corrected in the future.

So, how did I revise these paintings? I lost some of the edges and put them more into shadow, especially along the margins of the paintings nearer the corners and at the tops of the pillars. I added warmth to the bluish colors, and dulled some of the reds in the eggshells. And, in the central painting, I eliminated the big red circles that were in the architecture at the top. Better? yes. Best? No way!! This is what keeps me painting :)