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Posted on 4/30/2012 4:03:52 PM
By Donald Fox
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Crosswalk
When the word game is used, the meaning most often applies to an organized activity played for amusement, typically a sport, but it can also include strategy games like chess or checkers. The expression that life is a game has become a cliché, even though, like many clichés, it holds an element of truth. Game can be a metaphor with application to many activities in which we engage from the light and frivolous to the serious and deadly. The popularity of the book and recent movie version of The Hunger Games shows that in a fictional, dystopian world entertaining games can also be ultimate in outcome and reveal undesirable traits. The Greeks gave us the Olympic Games; the Romans gave us the gladiator games. Pre-Columbian cultures in Central and South America also played games with deadly intent. We have a mixed heritage as civilized human beings.
Serious or light, games have rules that govern how they are played. Even in such a serious game as war, when certain rules are not followed, the consequences can be swift and deleterious. Think of all the war crimes trials of the last hundred years. On the court or the field, a coach will not be happy with players who bend the rules and incur penalties against the team. Such infractions sometimes are the difference between winning and losing. Perhaps the more serious side of games is important for us to remember when we play games that matter. A definition for game I like to keep in mind is “a procedure or strategy for achieving an end” (Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary, 10th ed).
If I want to do something well – write, paint, dance, mend a broken fixture – it is important for me to understand the rules, guidelines, or principles involved that govern that particular thing. I need to know how to play the game. If I’m missing information or level of skill, then I need to do research for the information and practice in order to gain the skill. There is no real mystery here. Sometimes, though, my ego may get in the way, and I’ll plow ahead with the assumption that I can do this thing, for I believe I have some innate ability that sets me apart. Whatever I set out to do, I will do it; that is, until I discover that I don’t have the necessary skill or knowledge, pride notwithstanding. Maybe I succeed and maybe I don’t, but in all likelihood I’ve learned something in the attempt. Next time I’ll be sure to play according to the rules.
I’m reminded of what I heard a fourth grade coach tell a bumbling player. “You want to play the game? Learn the rules. You want to get better? Practice.” Good advice for the novice athlete or the budding painter.
Posted on 4/29/2012 6:16:04 PM
By Donald Fox
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Mallard
In art, religion, and politics, often there is a kind of easy thinking that tends to paint ideas with too broad a brush. It’s a blend of stereotyping, generalizing, and moralizing that does not lead to any satisfactory dialog about the topic; it simply tends to either push people’s buttons or elicit knee jerk supportive response. There is nothing wrong with disagreement on a subject or even a little conflict where blood pressures may rise as one’s opinions are challenged. When there is healthy disagreement – situations where opinions are aired and discourse is invited in the spirit of respect and open inquiry – there is the possibility for growth and mutual understanding.
Cultural issues seem to be the areas where more destructive discourse occurs. So-called “hot button” issues tend to call forth emotional responses first. One feels that his beliefs are being attacked or belittled, one has predetermined that the opponent is closed-minded and judgmental, one is blindingly self-righteous and absolutely knows that the other is dead wrong, or one believes that anyone thinking otherwise than him is evil or worse. These are all emotional commitments that leave no room for reason. Argumentation by definition is a logical presentation of information in order to reach a conclusion. It says nothing about conflict or discord. Emotional attachment to beliefs is something else where an individual has committed allegiance to a concept from learned behavior. It may be sourced from family, culture, race, religion, or brainwashing. Reason never enters the picture. There are many examples of children at some point in their maturation questioning and rejecting their parents’ beliefs only to sometime later returning to the beliefs in a more committed way. They have questioned and then chosen the beliefs rather than simply accepted out of duty.
Sometimes a person may come to a belief after long searching, questioning, reasoning through a number of options, and eventually settling upon a belief that seems the most logical. After a time, there may be a strong emotional bond to this particular belief. If the person remains reasonable, he will recognize at some level that the emotion is self-generated and may even periodically reassess the idea or the commitment. Generally this person will not feel threatened if someone disagrees or offers another perspective. The said individual might even feel excited by discourse on an issue that in his own mind is already settled, for he understands that growth as a human being often comes from challenges to long held notions.
Art is a very broad topic that can encompass many sets of beliefs some of which are mutually exclusive. Often, practitioners speak about art in spiritual terms as though its practice is similar to religious expression. They may say that the purpose of art is to enhance and elevate the experience of life, to add beauty and truth to the world. But, what if they encounter art that deals with some societal taboo related to sex or religion or relationship? That art no doubt would be rejected and either criticized as non-art, as confrontational or sensational, or simply as degenerate and depraved. This would be their choice, but so is it the choice of the artist who made the “offensive” art. There are deeper questions about freedom of expression and freedom of choice that are not easy to resolve. Art has never been only about painting pretty pictures. In the long term, the best art has often been the art that has been the most challenging and the most challenged. Of course there is the other side that can say just because it’s challenging doesn’t make it good art. Artists and viewers alike bear responsibility for being educated and for balancing those human traits of reason and emotion. This is a continuing task that doesn’t simply stop when some level of comfort is achieved.
Posted on 4/28/2012 8:54:37 PM
By Donald Fox
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Dorothy's Stump
Today has been one of those days when it would have been so easy to shift into complaining mode, to feel grumpy about unexpected tasks that had to be handled, and as a result to not be able to do the planned studio work. I have two large oak trees in my back yard that give magnificent shade nearly year round. My neighbor’s yard also has a very large oak many braches of which extend over my garage studio. From time to time I have to trim them away from the three skylights on the north side. Late yesterday I discovered that a substantial branch had partially broken and its long leafy branches were actually resting against one of the skylights. This could not be left unattended. A strong wind might bring the whole limb through the skylight.
The neurologist and existential psychiatrist Viktor Frankl once said, “The greatest freedom we have is the freedom to choose our attitude regardless of our circumstances.” Frankl was a holocaust and concentration camp survivor, an experience that no doubt shaped his psychiatric theories in a very personal way. I thought of this quote as I stood on the roof of my studio studying how best to deal with the problem before me. I could easily trim the smaller branches away from the skylight, and I did. But, there was a nine foot oak limb about eight inches thick at the place where it had cracked, probably from some kind of bug infestation. The limb was still strongly connected to the tree and would have to be cut away with an extension saw, a pruning saw attached to an adjustable pole. A nine foot oak limb of such thickness would easily weigh over a hundred pounds. I couldn’t just let it crash down on the roof where it might smash into the skylight or even put a hole in the decking when it dropped at least ten feet down. I’d need rope, but I didn’t have nearly enough.
I made a trip to my local hardware store, not Home Depot or Lowe’s. The neighborhood store is one of those old meandering single story stores akin to all-purpose dry goods stores of the past. I’ve gotten to know the owner, and his bright, “Howdy, neighbor,” when I came in was a shifting point in my mood. We shook hands and chatted a few minutes before he matched my need with the perfect lightweight, inexpensive but strong rope. Even though I knew the task would be a long one, ultimately about four and a half hours because of little problems that cropped up throughout the process, I had a good plan and a clearly define objective. I tied the limb off from two directions to keep it from falling after cut, but even that wasn’t quite sufficient since I couldn’t reach high enough to secure the upper end. I was afraid it would swing downward too far and hit the roof with the heavy end. Here I enlisted my neighbor, and with an extra rope, him pulling one direction and me another we managed finally to cut the limb free and lower it gradually away from the roof. Doing such hard physical labor for several hours on a slanted roof left my hands, arms, and legs in a state of exhaustion. I knew there was no way I’d be painting today. Even so, with the aid of two neighbors and the wisdom of Viktor Frankl, I successfully completed the job that needed to be done.
There are many times in our careers when unexpected chores intrude on what we would rather be doing, i.e. making art. How we approach those tasks and how we approach the art-related tasks that don’t include painting determine not only whether we are successful but also, I think, whether we keep on track as successful human beings, ones who can also contribute to others in meaningful ways. We are at choice in any given moment no matter what our circumstances. Being aware of this takes discipline just as doing the work we’re intended to do also requires discipline. Sometimes we have to be reminded – certainly I do – and this is when I’m thankful for friends and neighbors.
Posted on 4/27/2012 6:21:58 PM
By Donald Fox
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Egrets
Yesterday was Poem-in-your-pocket Day as part of April’s National Poetry Month. The idea was to carry a poem in your pocket and read it throughout the day and share it when appropriate. I’m not aware of there ever being a National Painting Day or something similar in the visual arts. At the college where I teach, I sent out an email announcing the day and included a poem that is one of my favorites. About a dozen people responded with their own choices of poems. My choice was William Carlos Williams’ poem generally known as “The Red Wheelbarrow” although its actual title is simply “XXII” since it was that number in the original poetry collection Spring and All where it was first published in 1923 (I included this poem in my 4/25 blog). Here is the text of the poem again:
so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens.
There is no narrative suggested nor, if one reads the poem with an open mind, is one needed. I find in many ways that these brief lines create a very simple yet elegant image much like a painting might do. In fact, Williams was noted as being one of the first American poets to utilize images in a manner that the image itself became the focus of the writing. Prior to this much poetry tended to be discursive, included long explanations, used flowery language, and though images might support the message, they were not central to the poem. There is also some anecdotal information relative to this poem but not central to its meaning or necessary for a reader to understand what the poem is about. Therefore, I will not discuss that part. This is not unlike one coming to a painting and experiencing what the painting portrays without knowing anything about the painter’s particular thoughts behind its creation. We do this all the time with various forms of artistic expression, and many say that a work has to stand on its own. If it needs explanation, then it’s not succeeding as a piece of artistic communication. Yet, this doesn’t prevent us from talking about art. By doing so we often discover things not initially noticed.
At this point my critical mind wants to know more anyway. My training in literature and writing has included explicating the text, researching the creator to link biographical relevance, and considering the single work within the context of a larger body of work by the same artist. These additional bits of information often create a depth of understanding that enhances overall appreciation. When museums mount exhibitions, they always provide contextual information as an educational enhancement for the patrons. Still, a work can be appreciated on its own merit, and the experienced or educated viewer will bring additional information to the experience. This does not mean that other viewers are shortchanged, but even they always have the option to do research on their own. I’d certainly recommend that.
A few of my thoughts about this short poem are simply my own thoughts and are not intended by any means as a full explanation or even the “correct” one. First, I love the brevity and what the poet is able to suggest within a few lines. It might seem like a sketch rather than a fully developed painting, but the images are so powerful and pictorial that a visual context is easily created in the viewer’s mind. Three basic elements are presented; the red wheelbarrow, rain water, and white chickens. These suggest a country or farm setting. “So much depends/ upon…” a sense of importance is immediately conveyed to the objects and the setting. A sense of connection to the unknown owner of the wheelbarrow and the chickens is felt though not spoken. To me it’s almost as though the poet also references the Chinese basic elements of earth, air, fire, water, and metal. Chinese and Japanese brush painting often use simple natural vignettes as representative of the universal, so I don’t think the oriental reference is off base here. The language even has a haiku-like feel and musicality. The wheelbarrow is a tool for carrying earth and manure, both substances for creating sustenance and nurture. Its redness catches our attention and suggests power, passion and fire. Contrasted with the whiteness (purity?) of the chickens, themselves a source of meat and eggs, we are given two strong symbolic colors. The chickens can also be read as fire since they express life energy. Rain water is nature’s bounty for the farmer, water of course being essential to life.
How far should we take the interpretation of images like these? Poets are very specific with language and choose their words with precision, but they are also fond of ambiguity and multiple meanings. Poetry sometimes is described as condensed language, meaning that a great deal of information can be given within a small space of words. Even the structure of this little poem is carefully crafted so that the four stanzas parallel each other with a three word line followed by a single word line. The single word is two syllables in each case. The rhythm and stresses of the words also function as repetitive harmonizing elements that give the poem a unique lyricism quite different from English poetry of earlier generations. Some have suggested that Williams has created a unique American language for poetry.
Whether in a painting or poem or other form of art, artists give us, the viewers, rich layers of possibilities with which to experience the work. They also understand that viewers will bring their own experience to a piece, which can only enhance the work as it is appreciated over time. Art generally is about life and serves to enhance the experience of those who pay attention, those who take the time to stop, look, and listen.
Posted on 4/26/2012 4:17:22 PM
By Donald Fox
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The Light Inside by James Turrell, 1999
A tunnel connects the two buildings of Houston’s Museum of Fine Arts campus. Commissioned in 1999, the artist James Turrell created The Light Inside as an experiential artwork that serves not only as a transition from one building to another but also as a transition from the ordinary space of a building to a total immersion environment of colored light. There is an otherworldly feel to walking through that space. Even though the structure is a tunnel and transitway, being inside it seems more like being absorbed by a light beam and as if you’re within a limitless space that inexplicably comes to an end. The entire tunnel is bathed in light that itself transitions in a regular cycle between blue, crimson, and magenta. Initially I did not know this, and for nearly a year every time I went through the tunnel it was always blue. On one visit I was totally shocked to experience a red tunnel instead. That time I stopped for a few minutes, and then saw the shift from red to magenta and eventually to blue.
This kind of architectural sculpture is something that cannot be duplicated in painting. The huge color field canvases of the 60s and 70s can certainly impress the viewer with a large field of color, but they cannot surround the viewer as a tunnel of light can. The viewer is actually inside the artwork and completely enveloped by it. We’re used today, if we’ve ever been in a modern movie theater, to the surround sound system pioneered by Lucasfilm. We know that sensation of sound coming from all directions at once. It heightens the visual experience of whatever is on the screen. The Light Inside is an experience of light and space without sound, which in a sense, makes it almost feel like a disembodying sensation, perhaps what it might be like to have an out of body experience.
Art continues to change with new technologies and the restless exploration by some artists to utilize those technologies for maximum effect. The creators of stained glass art in Gothic cathedrals understood how to utilize natural light as a transformative element in architecture that could give the viewer/participant – you can’t simply be a viewer inside a Gothic cathedral – an uplifting experience. The viewer is enveloped by the light and space and elevated to a spiritual level of being. In The Light Inside, Turrell does this with artificial controlled light in a space not solely intended for worship. In other pieces, he similarly uses natural light. Some of these are places of worship like Skyspace in the Live Oak Friends Meeting House also in Houston. Sculpture defines space for human sensibility, and light reveals space to the human eye. When sculpture and light are combined imaginatively, and when light becomes the medium of sculpture, the transformative effects are powerful indeed.
Posted on 4/25/2012 7:32:26 PM
By Donald Fox
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Blue Cactus
Living in Houston I am used to driving for many miles on most days to and from work, to locations for art classes, to visit museums and galleries, to malls or theaters or movies. I’ve learned quite a few short cuts for those times when heavy rain may cause flooding in some areas or traffic is backed up on the freeway. Certain routes are so familiar that I can easily time segments and know according to traffic flow when I’ll actually arrive at my destination. I also know the best times to travel to certain locations and when to avoid others. Still, because the city is so spread out and unexpected delays can occur from accidents or events unplanned for, it’s necessary to allow extra travel time for most any cross-city jaunt. Close to rodeo time in February you don’t want to be anywhere near where the trail riders are coming into town. Hundreds of riders on horseback and dozens of wagons have been gathering for weeks in outlying communities and slowly making their way toward the city and the Astrodome. Traffic is held to let them pass; sometimes it’s a very long wait.
With all that driving under my belt, I can virtually imagine most any part of the city, the buildings, the vacant lots, the trashed out and neglected areas, and the few tiny undeveloped bits of landscape. Like most people I heavily edit what I see as I’m driving from place to place. Sometimes, though, one of the more nondescript places will absolutely glow in a particular light. Maybe rays of sunlight break through between buildings and illuminate a dilapidated shack transforming its appearance into a glowing jewel. Someone in a bright green jacket may cross the street in front of several red cars, and the contrast of colors is like a visual electric shock in an otherwise muted, non-attractive scene. These visual perks can make a journey to the grocery store or the bank an adventure of surprising delight that can transform a gloomy day in a second.
I imagine that other artists have similar experiences. Once you begin paying attention to color, you notice colors everywhere. It often makes no difference what the color is attached to. A student of mine once, a young mother of about thirty who only had a high school education had decided against her husband’s judgment to take a painting class. She had the desire to learn and was tired of being denied opportunities. She was so fascinated by everything I showed her about color interaction, and she was very quick at learning to distinguish nuances in value and tone. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and some of the older students began to paint more robustly. Occasionally she would let slip little comments about her personal life and her marriage. She loved her kids and her husband, but they did not share her enthusiasm. She told me of several times that she had tried to talk with him about the colors in the sky or in a landscape, but this challenged his ignorance and made him angry. I could see that her growth was creating domestic problems. Soon she stopped coming to class. I later did talk with her and encouraged her to continue even if on her own, but I could tell that the stress was too much.
Growth as artists is what all artists strive for. The excitement of learning is a powerful motivator. Also, because art always gives immediate feedback, there will be ups and downs. The excitement may be tempered by frustration. Even so, our commitment helps us continue to move forward. It isn’t necessary for the setting to be perfect or even for us to be in the mood to work, for we quickly learn that inspiration can strike from anywhere at any time. I’m reminded of the William Carlos Williams poem “The Red Wheelbarrow.”
so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens.
(April is National Poetry Month)
Posted on 4/24/2012 6:17:43 PM
By Donald Fox
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Young Reader
What possessed the people who crawled into deep caverns to paint delicate renderings of wild animals in brilliant earth hues that were never intended to be seen by an admiring audience? Many cave paintings date to over thirty thousand years ago with recent discoveries in Spain believed to be over forty thousand years old. Most anyone today looking at reproductions of cave paintings from Lascaux or Altamira (roughly 15,000 and 10,000 years old respectively) would be moved by the poetic sensitivity with which the images are painted. No written records exist to explain the motivations of these early artists. Only speculation on the part of archaeologist, anthropologists and art historians often based on study of aboriginal peoples and their art suggest some spiritual or ritualistic purpose, but no one knows for sure nor will anyone ever know. These are great mysteries from the past.
Today we tend to overanalyze, document, and hype artistic expression that has become a commodity that is sought after, revered, reviled, or ignored, and on occasion defiled. It is considered essential to some and worthless to others. Exceedingly high values are placed on many works, and quite a few are considered irreplaceable. Some people for religious reasons and sometimes from fear actively destroy images considered offensive. Some images celebrate the highest and best in culture and life while others express disdain or ridicule the very culture that sustains it. Some artists become celebrities while others are suppressed and denied the right to ply their craft. Art today is often rife with irony, inconsistency, and aloofness. It exists within the mainstream or it is ignored by the mainstream. It may be urgent and timely or it may be sacrosanct and timeless.
Much has been learned about the creative process, and many reasons for why creativity is practiced have been suggested. Even so, there is still no explanation of where this impulse comes from or how we can continue to practice it while also destroying much of what we celebrate through this artistic creativity.
Posted on 4/23/2012 6:18:15 PM
By Donald Fox
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Southwestern
I often think of writing and painting as being two very similar creative processes. Both attempt to communicate ideas or thoughts to an audience. Both utilize fundamental principles, techniques, and steps to create successful results. Both require substantial organization for the ideas to communicate effectively. Both also require some active participation on the part of the audience to receive the intended communication. Many key words can apply to both writing and painting: imagery, organization, description, important details, focus, intention, expression, point of view, communication, purpose, audience, and so on. There is also evidence that many of the greatest painters were very good writers; letters, journals, notes, essays, and books testify to this. Although some writers have also painted, this seems less common, though many have other artistic interests like music, drama, or even dance.
The writer D. H. Lawrence, an Englishman, lived in New Mexico just outside Taos for several years in the 20s from where he also journeyed to Mexico and parts of South America. He was a prolific painter in spite of not being particularly known for that, at least not in the United States. He did have one notorious show in England that was closed because some people were offended. His paintings were confiscated, and he only got them back after promising never to show in England again.
The area around Taos and Santa Fe has been noted as an artist magnet for some time. Lawrence wrote about the creative power of the place, and indigenous people regard that part of the southwest as a power center. I had heard of the D. H. Lawrence Ranch where Lawrence lived and has since become the location for writers to live and work on a fellowship. He acquired the ranch by trading the original manuscript of his novel Sons and Lovers. Back in the 70s I visited there and several other locations that Lawrence wrote about in various articles. A collection of his paintings are owned by the manager of a hotel in Taos. At the time I visited, I paid two dollars to go into the manager’s office to view several dozen paintings including one version of Leda and the Swan. This was the most unusual art show I’ve seen since the floor was lined with about thirty pairs of shoes, and the manager was on the phone the entire time I was there completely oblivious to my interest in studying the paintings.
Writing and painting can be and, to my way of thinking, should be compatible. Painters can find solace and inspiration in writing about painting. Writing is a very good way to clarify thinking about any subject. The translation from image to word or from word to image is an excellent exercise in imaginative thinking. I always encourage students to write their thoughts on a regular basis. The results can often be surprising.
Posted on 4/22/2012 7:03:36 PM
By Donald Fox
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Summer Storm
There is some dialogue today between painters who paint from photographs and those who paint en plein air. This immediately lets out those who paint abstractly since their subject lies within rather than without in the external world. Perhaps some legitimate points can be made in support of either camp, but bottom line, I don’t think there’s much of a fuss to be made.
A painting made from a photograph is, to a large extent, dependent on the quality of the original photograph. Even here, though, a practiced and inventive painter could create a superior image from an inferior one. Assuming that the photo’s composition is good, the light and color are fairly true, and enough detail is visible so that any viewing question might be answered, then the photograph can be a good subject. However, what the painter should be aware of is that photographs tend to flatten images, exaggerate lights and darks, and lose detail in those light and dark areas. So the question arises, how is the photograph actually being used?
If the painter is simply copying verbatim what is seen in the photo, more than likely the ensuing painting will not be a good one no matter how closely it follows the photograph. All the painter will have accomplished is a painted copy. This is little more than paint by numbers; exchanging one set of information (paint) for another (pixels). There is no particular challenge here except to match colors and copy a design.
Painters, in the process of learning how to paint, learn the visual vocabulary of painting. They learn about color: hue, intensity, temperature, and value. They learn about the effect of colored light and atmospheric effects created by distance. They learn to visually edit what they see, to limit detail, to organize space, to adjust color for spatial effects, to modulate edges, to create color harmonies, and to compose within the picture space. These things cannot be learned by copying photographs, but, if a painter understands this vocabulary, he could translate a photograph into a successful painting.
We could almost say the same thing about painting from nature – that one won’t automatically learn the rules of painting just because painting is done outside. Now a new set of problems occur. One, the light is always changing. In thirty minutes a scene can change significantly as shadows shift and objects come into view that previously were in shadow. Also, sunlight can sometimes be harsh, and the glare can make seeing color difficult. Reading lights and darks can be challenging as well. If the painter paints exactly what he sees, the resultant painting would be disorganized and confusing. Again, the experienced painter understands that changes have to be made in a scene in order for it to read correctly as a painting.
An artistic painting, regardless of subject or source, is a translation or interpretation on the part of the painter. He or she is constantly making choices and adjusting what is observed to fit an idea that the painter may not even fully know when the painting is first begun. It is as though the painter discovers the subject and the painting in the process of painting it. For the experienced painter, the principles that govern painting have become ingrained over time. Some choices that are made may be consciously thought out and some choices may be intuitive based on the internalized knowledge. The painting, as it progresses, begins to speak to the painter (in a sense) to show what needs to happen next. If one understands the process, it shouldn’t matter what the source is. What’s really important is how the painter responds.
Posted on 4/21/2012 7:17:30 PM
By Donald Fox
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Max Liebermann, "Wannseegarten", pastel, 1925
German Impressionist painter Max Liebermann (1847-1935) produced hundreds of paintings and many more drawings and pastels in his long career. A founding member of the Berlin Secession and its first president, Liebermann championed Impressionism against the official Salon not so much as a style of painting but rather as a “way of seeing.” His painting of the late 20s and earl 30s moves Impressionism in a decidedly expressionistic direction although he was never formally part of the German Expressionists. Being of Jewish heritage, he was greatly disgusted by the Nazi party rise to power, but he died before seeing the worst of Jewish persecution. His wife, however, committed suicide in 1943 at age 85 rather than submit to relocation to a concentration camp.
Looking at Liebermann’s work, I cannot see any hint of political concern in his peaceful though often energetic landscapes. Many of the later paintings are views of his garden at his family home. The layout of the formal gardens allow for orderly geometric compositions in the painted representations. The architectural underpinning is very strong, yet Liebermann overlays bold, bright color in heavy paint applied with rapid, expressive brushwork. The contrast between the tight compositions and the freely applied paint could be interpreted as representative of the social upheaval imposed by the Nazis on an already rigid German society. This hindsight, however, would itself be a superimposition. Unlike many of the German Expressionists, Liebermann was not really a political artist.
It is difficult to imagine creating beautiful and mostly peaceful works of art in the midst of social turmoil, especially in the period so close to Germany’s invasion of European countries that would ignite the Second World War. Liebermann and other German artists managed to do just that. Perhaps this shows the sustaining power of art for the artist. I’d like to think this is the case rather than art being a place where the artist would hide from the problems of the world. Liebermann, I think, was making very positive contributions by maintaining his commitment to his lifelong goals. He shows that powerful creative expression can ultimately triumph over negative and destructive forces. What may have happened with his work had he lived into the war years is something we may speculate but will never know. The work that we have and the lesson that it shows are positive and life affirming.
Posted on 4/20/2012 10:01:46 PM
By Donald Fox
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Cool Morning
Sensitivity is a sensitive subject. I say this because often sensitivity is associated with weakness. There are all sorts of stereotypes that most of us grow up with. Artists are sensitive and weak; jocks are strong but dumb, for example. Sometimes, if we’re lucky, we have experiences that dispel the stereotypes that we have learned, for I think that these aberrant ideas are learned from family, friends, and culture. Some stereotypes are even fostered in school, but slowly through the years things may change. Last month, for example, was Black History month. Many excellent programs looking at American history from a neglected Black perspective addressed some of the myths and stereotypes I learned as a child. That I had already moved beyond that early narrow thinking is testament to the many positive influences from people I have been fortunate to know.
Not too many years ago, my wife and I attended one of my high school reunions. At a group picnic, one of my classmates launched into a diatribe about those (insert racial epithet) and how they were always demanding more and causing problems for everyone. My wife took exception to his words, for she had never met an overt racist before. She was bewildered that in modern times someone could still think the way he did. It also saddened me to see that this person had not outgrown the stereotypes that populated his mind. I had grown up with such people in my extended family, many who called themselves Christians, and among friends (well, classmates). I distanced myself from that early life and did not even go to reunions for many years. In a way I stereotyped many of my school friends and did not give them the benefit of acceptance others had given me.
Artists are often stereotyped in a variety of ways. They are too sensitive, moody, dreamers, impractical, immoral, lazy, starving, liberal, unprincipled, bohemian, fringe dwellers, misunderstood, socially inept, disorganized – the list could be extensive. On the other hand, many people actually admire what artists do. However, as soon as one artist does something confrontational or in-your-face or bizarre, the stereotypes pop right out in the open. Of course, artists, like politicians or preachers or teachers or doctors or lawyers, are human, and humans differ widely in how they act and react in the world. Helen Keller once said that the highest reward of education is tolerance. The more we learn about our differences the less we tend to think in stereotypical terms.
Having come from a family that is quick to judge, I understand how difficult it can be to change ingrained patterns of behavior. Along the way in this journey of life, I’ve been very fortunate to have many good teachers. Quite a few of them have been artists, people of insight, intelligence, integrity, and tolerance.
Posted on 4/19/2012 5:11:15 PM
By Donald Fox
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Downstream
Time and change are realities we all have to contend with as human beings. Some of a less than positive bent think of this as a downside to self-awareness. We, unlike our fellow animals, are conscious of the passage of time. We observe various cycles with anticipation or with dread. As children, it seems to us that the future is forever in the far distance, and our focus tends to be when the next big holiday arrives. This may also be the time when we begin to anticipate the weekend and freedom from school, so that as we become adults we are already primed to think in this way in relation to work. These, however, are small measurements of time: the weeks, months, and years by which we measure our growth.
If we look at history, a concept itself that has changed dramatically as our understanding of the vastness of geological time, the slow movement of natural expression on the planet, or the even grander scale of cosmic time where dizzying lengths are measured in light years, we begin to see that time has many permutations and is itself a very complex concept. The length of a single human life pales before the longevity of a single star. Even the history of life on earth could be considered a blip in the scale of cosmic time. In spite of these challenging concepts, we can make some sense of time that stretches far beyond what we can never personally experience.
In our continuing search for meaning, we look at how life unfolds in its vast array. The history of our expression through art is one such attempt as a species to collectively answer some of life’s most pressing questions. What’s fascinating to me is that artistic expression appears to be accelerating just as other forms of human expression accelerate. Many today complain about the fast pace of life compared to just a generation ago. In just one hundred years, the change of pace is scarcely believable. We have chronicled so well this time period that we know in great detail what life for our recent ancestors was like. The fascination with the Titanic disaster, just now having reached a hundred year anniversary, is part of that understanding. There were no transoceanic flights in 1912; ship transport was the only way to cross an ocean. It was still a few years before the 1st World War, but already artistic expression was in an accelerated phase of change.
Ancient Egyptian culture and art spanned roughly 3500 years. There is more evidence of consistency than change in artistic expression during that period. Certainly monument building gradually reached levels of sophistication for that pre-mechanized time. The consistency of artistic forms, however, is quite remarkable for such a long period. A huge leap in painting occurs during the early Renaissance when the understanding of depicting three-dimensional space on a flat surface takes painting where classical Greek sculpture took sculptural expression nearly fifteen hundred years before. Then, for almost five hundred years, there is reasonable consistency in painting until the late 1800s. In that period, I’d suggest we see more change in architecture than we do in painting. There are exceptional painters from early to late and subject matter varies, but the painting process follows a fairly set pattern.
Right around the turn of the century, from the 1800s into the 1900s, another huge shift occurs as the modernist period begins to unfold. Artists become generally less concerned with perfecting a tradition and more concerned with self-exploration through personal expression. Styles proliferate at a never before seen rapidity. It’s as though art moves in a thousand directions all at once. Whether this is a good series of changes or not remains to be determined. If today’s controversies are any indication, it may be some time before the best art of our own time will be sorted out. Who knows where artistic expression will head in the future or even if there will be art as we understand it today except, like those monuments from the past, in museums to remind future generations of what came before.
Posted on 4/18/2012 5:33:13 PM
By Donald Fox
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Half Moon
A painting is like a stage play. The canvas is the stage on which the visual drama occurs, and colors, shapes, and forms are the players that bring the play, the painting, to life. A screenplay differs in that even though the resultant film is projected upon a screen, the viewpoint can easily shift to the opposite side of the space very rapidly. The camera, and thus the viewer, can move 360° around a character or it can go down a hallway, through several rooms, and even jump from one locale to another. Several of the Bourne trilogy films make great use of this camera mobility to make the action scenes even more active and expressive. The painting has its singular view, which might be subdivided to show several views at once, but the viewer would have to toggle back and forth between scenes.
Cubism was an attempt to unhinge the viewpoint from its fixed location. It allowed for interesting variations and manipulations of objects and space, but it could not do anything like what film could do. Futurism, Dynamism, and other expressive forms of painting still could not stretch that canvas surface beyond its capacity. This is not to say that traditional painting is at its end. Artists continue to be imaginative when addressing the canvas head on.
Narrative painting, however, is a form of painting that has passed its age. The high drama and heroic grandeur of the Neo-classical and Romantic eras would look oddly dated if cast in contemporary clothing. Film has far exceeded what narrative painting could do. We have become so used to battlefield images in television newscasts, still photographs, and raw screen depictions like The Hurt Locker that a topical narrative painting would probably leave the viewer wondering what was the point. Even looking back at a painting like Copley’s The Death of Major Peirson, the modern viewer may feel challenged by the staged sentimentality and wonder at the cleanliness of the street in the midst of a raging battle.
Is there a contemporary painter to do for Viet Nam, Iraq, or Afghanistan what Goya did for Spain’s resistance to Napoleon? Perhaps we’ve become too desensitized by over exposure to graphic suffering. Interestingly, we can still respond to a powerfully painted vase of flowers or dramatically realized landscape. And, depending on one’s taste, we may even be elevated by a freshly visualized abstraction.
Perhaps it is easier to suspend disbelief in an auditorium under the spell of a good Shakespearean actor like Kenneth Branagh than to suspend visual judgment with certain styles of painting. We do tend to have our prejudices, but then there’s more than enough art to go around, or so some would say. Painters, though, tend to be highly critical, at least those who think the most about what they’re doing.
Posted on 4/17/2012 7:24:22 PM
By Donald Fox
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Desert Clouds
If I divide a two-dimensional space, I can do so randomly with a single line that may move vertically, horizontally, or diagonally. The latter may move downward to upward or vice-versa. I may end up with a symmetrical division, but, more likely, because it is random the division will be asymmetrical. The obvious question to ask here is why am I dividing the space to begin with? This is one elemental question of painters that often is probably not asked. Assumptions too frequently are made without questioning.
Realist painters, plein air or studio, usually begin their art with attraction to a particular subject. Something in the light, the setting, the arrangement of objects in space, color (there are many variables) catches the eye and stimulates the creative impulse. Sometimes an idea may precede an observation, and the painter looks for or arranges components to illustrate the idea. In these situations there are given elements that will determine how the space of the canvas is divided. The horizon line may be low or high, and vertical divisions will to some degree be determined by the location of objects in the observed space relative to point of view. Positioning can certainly change according to the painter’s decision, intuitive or reasoned, for what will produce the best composition. The golden mean or the rule of thirds may guide this process.
Every painter develops a working method over time. There is no strict order that must be followed, and any suggested approaches like toning a canvas before painting, drawing the subject before adding color, laying in the darks and lights, etc. can all be easily adapted to suit the individual painter’s personality or mood. In any working process, however, there is a hierarchy of steps. Some of those steps may be given higher importance than others. The overall learning process of painters is also as varied as there are painters. What a painter learns over time obviously influences the work that follows. What is thought to be important at one stage of development may not be so important at a later stage of one’s career. Monet’s work of the late 1870s, for example, bears little resemblance to work done after 1900.
When speaking of order of magnitude, we might think of brilliance of stars, the power of a volcanic eruption, or the measure of an earthquake rather than what a painter does in the studio. Painters, though, deal with decisions of magnitude in every painting and in paintings done over the course of a career. The relative lightness of lights and the darkness of darks, the range and brilliance of colors, the thickness and thinness of paint, the subject depicted, interpretation of the subject – these and more are areas of decision making that any painter wrestles with in order to produce the very best expression at any given moment in time. The result can create work that will resound on an order of magnitude that will reverberate through the centuries.
Posted on 4/16/2012 9:00:31 PM
By Donald Fox
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On the Fence
As I’m writing this, cats are outside yowling and running across the roof. A young female stray that we’ve been trying to tame enough to catch has, unfortunately, gone into heat. We’ve gotten pretty good at catching strays and getting them neutered or spayed through a local volunteer program. This little kitty has evaded us so far, and now we may pay the price with even more to try to capture. I watched the males today while the female was up in a tree. Three of them were lined up on our roof waiting for her to come down. That mating urge is very powerful. They will stalk her relentlessly just waiting for the opportunity to pounce.
The urge to create has often been linked to the urge to procreate. In many cultures there are art forms that overtly express this connection through fertility figures as ancient as the Venus of Willendorf. Sex, sexuality, and procreation are not taboo in many cultures the way they are in western societies. Actually there are more contradictions regarding sex in western culture than in some societies that are considered more primitive. We obviously use sex to sell everything from cars to refrigerators. Many advertisements border on the prurient. Popular culture includes sex at nearly every level. Where else do we find six and seven year old girls dressed up and vying for beauty titles? On the other hand, we have laws against pornography even though it is difficult to actually define what is pornographic. Community standards seem constantly to shift. Despite the laws, there is a huge pornographic industry, which has become even larger since sex went online.
Most students of art history are familiar with Indian art and its ancient expressions of sensuality and sexuality. Tantric yoga focuses largely on developing the male/female sexual response. Most are familiar with Khajuraho and its temple that contains many erotic carvings and also with the Kama Sutra, the ancient Sanskrit text on human sexuality. But eroticism in art was nearly as prevalent in Japan, China, and other eastern and even African cultures. Erotic art can be found in Ancient Egyptian and Mesopotamian cultures as well. The human sexual urge has always been powerful, more so than elsewhere in the animal kingdom, for humans do not go into heat. They engage in sexual activity at any time for the pleasure of it. It is only when taboos develop that sexuality is, in a sense, regulated. This may be for religious, philosophical, economic, or other cultural reasons.
What about creative expression? Is the desire to create as powerful and profound as the desire for sex? Animals engage in seasonal sexual activity as a natural response. It is a powerful innate drive the purpose of which is procreation. But animals do not make art. Humans do, and being of a higher order in terms of intellect, humans create ideas and philosophies about the things that interest them and maybe the things that drive them. It would be easy here to talk about power, wealth, domination, and sexuality because all of these can be and have been linked together. In some ways, the history of past civilizations is the story of the interactions among these different forms of human desire. Perhaps the desire to create art, compelling as it may be for some of us, is simply another form of human desire expressing itself. It certainly has strong sensual characteristics, so the link to sexuality may not be such a farfetched one after all.
Posted on 4/15/2012 6:36:29 PM
By Donald Fox
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Lone Star Trees
In an art history class years ago, the professor said that painting differs from sculpture primarily in how we appreciate it. A painting is viewed all at once; its impact is made within a moment. Sculpture has to be moved around and thus appreciated over time. Later this idea resurfaced in a discussion of Cubism where Braque and Picasso were attempting to represent multiple facets of objects instead of a single viewpoint. In essence, by breaking a dimensional object into planes, which were then flattened into a single surface, different views would be shown simultaneously. In a way, this was similar to Mercator projections where the globe is split like an orange peel, spread and flattened to show a continuous map of the earth’s surface. The concept of time is compressed into a moment.
This simple contrast between painting and sculpture contains an element of truth. A painting can be seen in an instant unless its scale is prohibitive. Three-dimensional sculpture is best appreciated by viewing all sides, which does take time. The obvious flaw, though, is that painting does deal with representation of space (illusion) in both realistic and abstract styles. To fully appreciate the representation, the viewer has to take time to observe the parts as well as the whole. For significantly large paintings the viewer must move in space forward and back and from side to side in order to comprehend all elements portrayed.
A painting is also like a snapshot of a given image. In realistic painting, the scene is frozen. Although action or activity may be shown or suggested, it is suspended in whatever moment is being portrayed. Various artists have wrestled with this static quality of painting attempting to push it beyond a simple suggestion of movement and action. Duchamp’s Nude Descending a Staircase is one prominent example. The Dynamists and Futurists made similar attempts to show motion and dynamic activity. Many forms of modern art have attempted to resolve or at least address the time-bound nature of painting.
I get the point the professor was making, but for art appreciation I’m not sure it’s very important. It is obvious that painting and sculpture are different. Painting deals either with a flat surface that is rendered flat as in much modern painting, or that surface is considered a window through which a particular reality is glimpsed. Sculpture has physical dimensionality; it exists in three dimensions and fills that space in a compelling way. Painting deals with the interaction of surface, shape, and color and follows its unique guidelines in doing so. But, back to my original point, it does take time to fully appreciate painting. The viewer has to visually move within the depicted surface space just as in viewing sculpture the viewer must move through actual physical space. A better contrast, then, might be between physical space and virtual space.
Regardless of the original stimulus – painting, sculpture, real space, imagined space, virtual space – the viewer utilizes his senses and intellect to appreciate the art that is external with an experience that is largely internal. It is within the viewer that the appreciative experience occurs. For myself, I often find that time is not a factor within this innerscape. One moment or many moments are irrelevant; they can feel the same. There is no chronological measure that is of importance. Time is not of the essence.
Posted on 4/14/2012 8:36:21 PM
By Donald Fox
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Docked
One of the ways I can respond to a piece of art is emotionally. Many will see the emotional response as the most truthful reaction to artwork. That gut feeling can’t be faked. In an instant you either react favorably or you don’t. You feel good about the experience of the work or you don’t. You are repelled by the work or you feel invited and welcomed by it. This feeling, however, can be fleeting or it may linger. The emotional response may have more to do with some personal association to the image or content (color, form, subject, etc.) than to the work as art. I’d suggest that an emotional response is only the beginning of art appreciation and not a definitive assessment.
Have you ever responded positively to a sunrise, a sunset, or a vision of space viewed from a mountain ledge? I suspect that most people who have had one or more of these experiences would say that yes, this was very positive. You probably know that feeling that seems to course through the entire body and elevates you mentally, physically, and spiritually. Have you ever responded similarly to a painting of one of these natural scenes? Perhaps you’ve felt this way in front of a landscape by Thomas Moran or Frederic Church. Were you responding to the painting because it’s such an exquisite painting or because the portrayed scene itself is so powerful and ignites that human reflexive response to nature’s grandeur?
Maybe you answer that you’re responding to both the painting and the natural scene, but if you say so, then I’d say you’re going beyond gut-level response to an intellectual response where you’re recognizing that you’re experiencing both. For this is what I think we often do in the presence of powerful artwork. The gut response engages us. Then, as we peruse the painting, we register a whole range of more subtle reactions that include thinking, reasoning, making associations, interpreting, analyzing, and other experiences in addition to feeling. We qualify and quantify our experience as we take in the work and explain it to ourselves, not necessarily explicate it although we might do that as well. We expand our understanding through this process. We may even justify the original emotional response.
The best work, of course, will draw us back again and again. Each viewing will build on the previous one, and we may discover new information that gradually modifies our appreciation of the work. Should work that does not engage us emotionally right away be dismissed? I don’t think so. Subtle work or work that reveals itself slowly and over time can ultimately be just as engaging and maybe even more so that the one that grabs us right away. The emotional response might be a reliable guide sometimes, but I don’t always trust it as a foolproof indicator. Emotion tempered by reason has more often given me a richer and deeper response to art, particularly some works that I might have dismissed at first glance. Certainly the emotional response can be powerful and provocative, but there is more to art than that initial experience.
Posted on 4/13/2012 8:18:36 PM
By Donald Fox
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In the Studio
Anyone who uses email knows how quickly the inbox can grow with either unread or not-deleted messages. Spam can certainly be an issue, and the box fills up even more quickly. The diligent person will stem the inflow before it becomes a problem. Not every message has to be read. It’s fairly easy to spot the spam and simply delete it before it piles up. Folders can help manage important messages or ones that might be kept because of useful information. Simply move a message to the appropriate folder for later easy access. This also avoids searching endlessly through long streams of messages to find a particular one that you just know was sent about two weeks ago.
Most people are smart enough to organize what they do. Somehow, artists have a block against organization – this is the myth anyway. We’re too intent on being creative. We lose touch with reality. We ignore the mundane stuff because we know the real importance lies in making more significant stuff that will help people take their minds off the mundane stuff. Mostly, I think the disorganized artist is a lazy artist. He or she chooses to ignore organizational tasks except for those that relate specifically to painting or art making. It’s a matter of self-serving priorities that ignore the mundane for the sublime.
The truth is that most artists do have strong organizational skills. They implement them constantly in the process of art making. Art is a high level organizational process that demands full attention. Artists tend to be diligent in the application of their craft. A great many of them, certainly not all, do tend to let the non-art stuff slide. When this affects the business side of art, then there is a problem.
How then, does one become better organized? As an exercise, email could be a good place to start. Whatever program is used, part of the organizing is already done. Messages come in in an orderly manner and are listed most recent to oldest or vice-versa. Like mentioned above, create folders for important ones that may need to be kept. Anything that can be quickly read and deleted, then do so. Delete the spam. Set filters that can reduce spam as well. Most email programs allow this. A few minutes each day will solve the unwieldy inbox problem. Like any discipline, it is important to be consistent. Make it a habit to respond to anything business related immediately.
Also, if you are not already a list maker, become one. A working list of things to do is a guide for the day’s activities. It also serves as an acknowledgement of accomplishments throughout the course of the day when completed items are crossed off. As most efficiency gurus suggest, deal with the big rocks first. Priorities make themselves known. Left unattended, priorities can become crises that cannot be ignored. It is no fun and really counter-productive to operate from crisis mode. The stress alone can be a killer.
Is your workspace organized? Can you easily find the necessary equipment when needed? Did you clean up from the previous day’s work? There is nothing difficult or magical about applying a little common sense to what you do. If you are diligent about doing your work, you can also be diligent at being organized. The latter will, in fact, enable the former. Use those visual organizational skills in your daily practice, and you’ll be amazed at how much you can accomplish. You realize, of course, I’m talking to myself.
Posted on 4/12/2012 4:02:40 PM
By Donald Fox
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Morning Cactus
Every day we engage in an activity that most of us take for granted although on occasion we may actually think about what we are doing. We talk. We communicate using words accompanied by gestures, feeling, facial expressions, and tone of voice. Mostly, though, it’s the words that count. We use them in our speech to others, and we use them in our speech to ourselves, in our thoughts.
Language is an amazing invention. Words, with their shades of meaning, multiple meanings, and sometimes contradictory meanings can be shaped to clarify or obfuscate what we may know, what we don’t know, or what we don’t want someone to know that we know. The better we understand words and how they go together according to the evolved rules of usage, the more clearly we can think about issues and communicate our thoughts to others. This concept is, unfortunately, lost on many to their detriment and to the detriment of their associates who are left scratching their heads at what someone is trying to say.
How we learn and process words formulates a large part of our symbolic thinking. Words themselves are composed of symbols in the form of letters that are linear shapes that designate particular vocal sounds. When written the letters make words, words make sentences, sentences make paragraphs, and paragraphs make various written documents that can communicate the most complex ideas. The visual recognition of letters and their association with sounds and ultimately with meaning is a highly complex process that utilizes more than one area of the brain. Left brain/right brain theory that puts verbal ability in the left hemisphere overly simplifies the process.
When we use words to express imaginative concepts using figurative language (metaphors, similes, analogies, and other forms), we move into a realm of understanding and communication that underlies and connects all the expressive arts. A visual art like painting does not exist solely in visual terms. Perception needs interpretation which we do by thinking about what we see. We talk to ourselves in this process of understanding. Dance, a performing art that combines movement, music, and spatial design, may be experienced viscerally, but it will also be filtered through our language faculty in our thoughts. The grasping of figurative expression requires recognizing associations that sometimes are not readily apparent. I think we are programmed for this by our understanding of language and its symbolic design, that process of matching symbol with sound and these with meaning.
Most of us spend our lives learning our native language, for a number of years picking it up naturally from our surroundings, then more formally in school, and later continuing through everyday experience. Much of this also happens through the process of reading. If we’re active in this process, we will seek out the meanings of unfamiliar words through context clues or actually looking up definitions in a dictionary or online. Similarly, visual artists learn from observation and the experience of recreating the observed in a particular medium. We might say this is like visual writing. Some written languages, in fact, evolved from pictures (Egyptian hieroglyphics and Chinese calligraphy are two obvious examples).
Psychologists have classified learners into various categories based on preferences: visual, audial, kinesthetic, global, intuitive, social learners as examples (there are many categories which vary according to school of thought). What is often misunderstood from this categorization is that none of us have only one preference. We have different strengths, but that doesn’t mean we can’t do things from our areas of weakness. Psychologists, in working with learning disorders, will teach learners skills to build on strengths and enhance areas of weakness. Painters, who no doubt are largely visual learners, can also strengthen other areas, which can only enhance their artistic abilities.
Our ability to communicate, whether with images or words, is one of the important skills that separates us from other animals. Also, having an active imagination is another of our higher level thinking traits. We express our thoughts, feelings, and experiences in symbolic forms utilizing what we have learned from the past in hopes of creating a better future. Art and language help us address the question of what it really means to be human.
Posted on 4/11/2012 9:07:51 PM
By Donald Fox
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Pilot Mountain
Today is my birthday, and when I found out recently that a co-worker’s birthday is tomorrow, I thought it’d be great to treat her to lunch on my birthday. We set it up, and after teaching a painting class off campus this morning, I hurried to complete several errands on my way to school and my lunch appointment. Upon arriving, however, I discovered that she had a walk-in potential student, and she wouldn’t be able to meet with me. She is a recruiter, and students come first. The same would be true for me as an instructor, students always are given priority. This is good, corporate customer-friendly policy.
Since I had an hour and a half before needing to report to work, I decided to do a few more errands before grabbing a bite to eat. A bit disappointed not to be meeting my friend, I still would treat myself to a nice lunch at a favorite Vietnamese restaurant. After the errands were complete, I drove to the restaurant. Being my birthday I decided to begin with a beer, a rare treat these days. In oriental restaurants my beer of choice is Tsingtao, a richly flavored Chinese beer. Just as the waiter poured the beer, I noticed someone dressed in blue scrubs coming in the door. Our school has programs in allied health, and students and staff in those programs wear specific uniforms, one of which is blue scrubs. This person turned out to be the Allied Health Chairperson, one of my favorite staff members on campus.
I asked her to join me, and we had a delightful visit, which neither of us would have had time for on campus. We discovered that both of us enjoy the restaurant frequently although we had never crossed paths there before. She had just taken out a few minutes from her busy day to drop in for a quick meal. We talked, laughed, and had a delicious lunch over the next hour. Upon learning it was my birthday, she even treated me. So, it wasn’t only the beer that turned my disappointment into a rare opportunity to bond with another co-worker.
What is interesting to me is that this kind of experience happens more often than not. Something planned on for whatever reason doesn’t work out, but something else that is equally good ends up filling that space. The disappointment doesn’t have to be huge nor does the serendipitous event have to be overly compensatory. There is always opportunity for growth, learning, surprise, or pleasure within any given moment. If I can remember to be open to the moment, there is never any concern for being at a loss for what to do. Today I could just as easily have decided to pick up fast food and gone somewhere to draw before going to work. That would have been a positive and nurturing experience in itself. Instead, I chose to do what I had intended originally, to give myself a nice birthday lunch, one that I wanted to share with a friend. By keeping to the plan, I got exactly that except it was with a different friend.
As painters, there are many opportunities for disappointment – a painting just doesn’t work out as planned, we’re rejected from a certain show, we’re turned down by a gallery, a customer just won’t commit to a purchase. It is so easy to feel disappointment, rejection, and dejection. These feelings may seem real enough in the moment, and sometimes they just have to be experienced in order to get through them. But if I’ve learned anything in my life experience, it is that there is always something just as good or better that is waiting. I used to think this was a silly cliché that mothers or teachers told children or students when they didn’t know what else to say. I don’t believe that any more. I’ve experienced the truth of it too many times for it to be coincidence. It is important to let go of an expectation or a disappointment in order for the other opportunity to emerge. Sometimes this takes courage, what some call spiritual courage, perhaps the best kind of courage to cultivate.
Posted on 4/10/2012 4:10:16 PM
By Donald Fox
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Inspiration Point
The recent issue of The New York Review of Books contains an article by Michael Kimmelman about the Steins (Gertrude, Leo, Michael, and Sarah) as art collectors. Underneath the article title is a black and white photograph of painters Henri Matisse and Hans Purrmann at dinner table with Michael and Sarah Stein and their son Allan in the Stein home. Behind the diners is a wall filled with Matisse paintings all done prior to 1908, ten paintings in all visible. These include the oft reproduced Madame Matisse (The Green Line) and a study for Le Bonheur de Vivre, both 1905. The latter two, especially, would be considered among any list of avant-garde paintings of the early 1900s.
What strikes me in the photograph are the casual setting of these paintings before they became modern art icons, their traditional presentation in heavy museum style frames (in which most of them are still exhibited in museums today), and the concentration of core examples of Matisse work from this early period. Today most students studying art history will no doubt see paintings on the internet and maybe in some of the classic art books of the 60s, 70s, or 80s. I saw thousands of images in slide form as an undergraduate and graduate student. I also made pilgrimages to major museums in Washington and New York and later to museums in Europe and Russia. No slide, print reproduction or internet image can really prepare one for the actual painting. There just is no comparison.
In a museum, although paintings may be aligned along the wall of a gallery room, there is sufficient space to isolate each artwork and allow it to work its magic. Even small scale works seem much grander when they can be perused close up or from a distance. All the nuances are there to be perceived by the viewer. The heavy, sometimes ornate frames don’t seem quite so intrusive in a museum setting. On the wall in the photograph (understanding that it’s black and white), the paintings seem dominated by their frames and much more traditional in their presentation. Some of the ones hanging highest on the wall are well above eye level, and although not as extreme as some salon hanging at the Academy, the position still would make it difficult to actually appreciate the pictures in context. One could get an overview of what Matisse had been up to at that point, and perhaps that was the intent on the part of Michael Stein.
I do love the intimacy of the setting as though as viewer of the photograph we’re actually present at the dinner. I also wonder who actually took the photo. Was it Gertrude perhaps? As artists every day we have intimate encounters with our own work. Most likely it is spread around the house or apartment, or it lines the walls of the studio. Some is framed and some not. We may see earlier pieces next to recent ones or even ones in progress. We can learn from this familial setting as siblings converse with each other in their visual vocabulary. What has changed in the year or two between this one and that one? How has one influenced another? Why wasn’t this same effect utilized in this other piece of similar subject? Where did this new color come from? What has been said through the course of these paintings? What hasn’t been said yet? Yes, there is much to learn, and it all comes down to looking and asking and then doing.
Posted on 4/9/2012 4:03:15 PM
By Donald Fox
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Among the Trees
As physical beings, humans, regardless of race, share the most fundamental of features. To stay alive we all must breathe and we all must eat. Even though some of us are lactose intolerant or allergic to certain types of foodstuffs, we still perform these basic functions. We can’t live without oxygen, and we can’t live without food or water, at least not for long. We also reproduce in the same way, so it is more than fair to say that the human race supersedes any one specific race. In other words, our similarities are greater than our differences.
Many would take issue with this last statement. Certainly cultural issues, religious issues, and a propensity to complicate things with thought (rules, taboos, philosophies, theologies, laws, superstitions, allegiances, etc.) create divisions and discord where there is no logical reason for these to exist. These divisions can lead to the most horrific of expressions and, ironically, to the most magnificent of humanitarian gestures.
The intent of civilization was to help ensure survival for groups of people banded together. Many of the benefits of civilization – division of labor, establishment of economy and commerce, security in numbers – also fostered communication skills and opportunities for creative expression. Here again, as we look back in time at artistic examples, there is much similarity of expression and concern among the stylistic diversity found in various cultures. Just as every civilization large or small has created some form of spiritual expression so has each expressed itself creatively. Often the two, spirituality and creativity, have overlapped. Even today, many secular artists speak or write about the spiritual underpinning of their art.
Art has also had a strong propagandistic history as the power of symbol and metaphor became increasingly apparent within cultures. Leaders understood that images, especially when standardized in form, exert enormous influence on the many. Archaeologists have suggested that one of the ways Alexander the Great was able to maintain control over such a vast empire when communications might take months or years was through the simple depiction of his profile on a coin made common throughout the kingdom. Numerous cultures were held together with this basic image overseen by his regents. Many dominant cultures expressed their power through impressive artistic and architectural displays: Babylonia, Assyria, Persia, Ancient Egypt, Ancient Greece, Rome, and others. We do the same thing today with images of presidents on currency, both paper and coin, and through the placement of various monuments; e.g. the Washington Monument, the Statue of Liberty, Mount Rushmore, and so on.
Individual artists, unless they are politically motivated, tend to focus on personal issues that may touch on life questions, spiritual expression, or philosophical or aesthetic concerns (what is life, what does it mean to experience, what is art, how do we know, etc.). The diversity created by all of these inquiries is staggering. More demand is also placed on the art audience because in order to appreciate and relate to much contemporary art, a fundamental understanding of its language and challenges are necessary. The “beauty is truth, truth beauty” of Keats and others is almost too simple as an entry into the art of today. One has to be multi-culturally diverse in order to understand metaphors and allusions. Context often creates content. Whether this is good or bad, it certainly is stimulating if at times daunting.
Posted on 4/8/2012 7:15:16 PM
By Donald Fox
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Thistles and Bluebonnets
Spring is a time of renewal and promise. In many areas where there are open fields and in certain lightly wooded areas, wildflowers are in bloom. This often brings pilgrims from the city with their cameras for rare days spent in nature away from the congestion, smog, and clatter of urban life. Wildflowers in the spring more than match the blazes of color when fall foliage begins its turn in the limelight.
In southeast Texas the wildflower of choice is the bluebonnet, Texas’ official state flower. Fields of the purplish blue flower can look like sky transposed to earth or non-reflective water as waves of increasingly lighter blue roll on to the horizon. Often, red Indian paintbrush is interspersed among the bluebonnets. Add to that varieties of small yellow wildflowers, and the color palette is completed with primary hues. Travel almost anywhere in Texas, visit a restaurant or art gallery, and you’ll find numerous examples of bluebonnet landscapes lining the walls.
This year, though, everyone feared the bluebonnets would not be very abundant. Drought has lingered over large sections of the state, and drought is the enemy of wildflowers. Fortunately, recent heavy rains in the east and southeast propelled the germination of bluebonnet seeds, so the crop this year was more than ample. While admiring bluebonnets this year, many observers noted another pretty addition that in the past had little presence in the landscape.
The same conditions that almost did in but finally allowed the bluebonnet to prosper aided this other wildflower even more. This is a small yellow clustered flower that grows in bushes three to four feet high. Known by various names – bastard cabbage, turnip weed, giant common mustard, wild rape – this arresting flower, for it is very lovely, lives up to its varied names. It crowds out other wildflowers, especially bluebonnets because of their slow germination. Bastard cabbage thrives in drought conditions and will rapidly spread into areas left bare by other flowers not blooming as they should.
I have to admit that I was quite struck by the huge areas of yellow that I saw in many places where I had never seen them before. No one really knows for certain how this Eurasian plant managed to gain a foothold in the southwest. Like kudzu in the southeast, this non-native plant showed up unexpectedly and is spreading rapidly. As with many rapacious species, it is uniquely designed to create havoc for native plants.
It occurred to me, though, that there is a lesson of sorts here. We sometimes are distracted by certain beautiful things that have little substance or have some negative features not readily apparent. We spend our time admiring or mesmerized by these distractions to the detriment of what we know is steadfast and nurturing. We are dazzled by the newness and turn our attention away from that which has sustained us. Maybe it’s a new technology, maybe a social medium, or maybe some other quickly spreading fad. The new takes hold, and before we know it, our time is devoted more to it and less to what should be priority. This seems to be the challenge of this technological age; how to harness and utilize the technology without becoming enslaved to its every whim and latest spin-off.
Creative ideas can come in a flash of insight, but it takes time to express those ideas in artistic form. Time is precious to artists, and on a certain level artists must be vigilant about its use. In the beautiful garden that is artistic creativity, we don’t want the insubstantial weed or the rapacious invader no matter how beautiful and dazzling it may seem.
Posted on 4/7/2012 7:00:46 PM
By Donald Fox
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Merced River
Yesterday my wife and I went on a date. In the not too distant past we made Friday nights date nights. We’d go to a movie – we’re both big movie buffs – and afterwards go to dinner. Somehow scheduling, other commitments, and unexpected challenges infringed on that ritual. Yesterday, though, we decided to take time for ourselves, and we did this in the morning. Most movies are also much cheaper early Friday and Saturday morning, so that was an added bonus.
While in the theater, we were approached by a young man who asked if I were the English instructor he remembered from Remington College. He had indeed been my student several years ago, and although I have not changed very much, he certainly had. He used to have long dreadlocks and a heavy beard, so it was understandable that I did not recognize the clean-cut young man in front of me. He had been a business student but now is assistant manager in a local department store. He thanked me profusely for all I had taught him and told me how he uses his writing skills daily for reports, letters, and other communications. My class, he said, has helped him more than anything else he’d taken in school. Now he even reads on a regular basis for pleasure as well as continued learning. Afterward, my wife said, “Wow, what an acknowledgement!”
A writing teacher is one of the hats I wear. Another is that of a painter, and another as a painting teacher. In any area that I work or express my talent and skills, such as they are, I strive to stay focused, present, and open to contributing to others. I learned long ago from a painting mentor that it’s never only about you the individual. What we do always affects others.
Art history is full of individuals who impacted the lives of people throughout the world. And it’s not just those whose names show up in history books or whose works are exhibited in museums. The great masters had teachers, friends, patrons, and other supporters that enabled them in their process. Though we don’t often learn about it, they surely had gratitude and expressed it when possible. It is not naive to think so even when some artists are portrayed as self-centered and solitary. Rarely would you find an artist who is not thankful for acknowledgement.
That acknowledgement can come at any time and in unexpected form is born out by experience, certainly the one this Friday morning. Whenever acknowledgement does come, accept it and embrace it. Be grateful that someone has been touched deeply enough to acknowledge what you’ve done. Be sure also to acknowledge others.
Posted on 4/6/2012 7:20:14 PM
By Donald Fox
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Off Broadway
An aspect of the arts that may not exactly be controversial but is often the source of disagreement because it is so difficult to be clear about is taste. If we speak of food, we know that taste is important. No one particularly enjoys something bland. We may enjoy sweet flavors but not overly so. We may even like some things that have tartness but not biting or sour. Most would enjoy something with a full, rich flavor, but even here there can be wide-ranging preference for what may be somewhat challenging to define. We like certain foods or we don’t.
I like many vegetables, for example, but I don’t like anything that is too pithy or stringy. I love both asparagus and broccoli, but each can be too tough and stringy. On those I would pass. When it comes to green beans, however, I simply will not eat them. My aversion goes back to early childhood, and while the green bean is often a staple in southern cooking, I have never been able to acquire a taste for them.
When we use taste to express like or dislike for something other than food or drink, we speak metaphorically. Yet it is very common to say that one has a taste for good books, fine clothes, or even things unusual. Taste becomes something of a catch-all, and may often be the easy way out. One doesn’t have to be very precise or specific when expressing taste. As a result, when taste is used to suggest cultural preferences, it frequently means that good taste is in alignment with our own and bad taste is not. Discussions of taste often suggest prejudicial thinking, and this can easily lead to disagreement, miscommunication, or worse.
I enjoy many types of music and equally enjoy many kinds of visual art. I’ve tried to educate myself in areas that initially challenged me, sometimes to success where I find enjoyment when at first I did not. By moving beyond my initial prejudice, by asking questions, by learning about motivations, desires, and designs, my level of appreciation grows. There are, however, certain artistic expressions that, like my aversion to green beans, I’ve never been able to develop a taste for. I find them repulsive, inconsequential, and without redeeming value. I understand there is some cultural conditioning at work, but I just don’t like them and find myself saying or thinking that they’re distasteful.
Culturally, I think we recognize this. We have a saying, “there’s no accounting for taste.” This can be an excuse and maybe even a cop-out. Artists, I think, generally are critical thinkers, but as individuals we all have blind spots. The truly critical person will attempt to understand before outright dismissal. As said before, taste and prejudice sometimes walk hand in hand. If we can avoid offensiveness, maybe the gut response that taste often generates can be a guide. I would hope, though, that we can continue to question even some of our most ardent beliefs. Not questioning, for me, would be an example of exhibiting poor taste.
Posted on 4/5/2012 4:49:16 PM
By Donald Fox
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Morning mist
The history of art is a fascinating study of shifts in creative expression and economic power. If we interpret the past from contemporary perspective, we’ll make many false assumptions about the objects that we may appreciate. The variety of attitudes and expression today are very recent developments in art. Many earlier periods followed strict guidelines for purpose, style, access, and imagery. There was no personal expression as we know it today. People didn’t talk about being creative or liberating their inner artist. There were no galleries and no museums and no collectors for several thousand years. In many ancient cultures, art was the provenance of the state. Its purpose often was propagandistic or utilitarian and was limited to the very wealthy and those in power. The average person might have only seen art from a distance.
The intent here is not to give a historical overview but only to make a few brief comments concerning certain shifts in attitude and thinking that have brought us gradually to what we do know today as artistic expression. Art as a commercial product, personal artistic expression, and the concept of artist as celebrity are all relatively new ideas. Those marvelous prehistoric cave paintings in France and elsewhere that are so revered and widely known today would have been seen by very few individuals in their own time. We don’t even know for certain why they were created or by whom. Their art historical influence is very limited since ancient civilizations and even Renaissance artists were unaware of their existence.
The ancient cultures of Mesopotamia, Egypt, Mesoamerica, or China used art mostly for religious and political purposes. Artists were primarily artisans and though some may have been admired for their skill, they remained largely unknown. Architects generally held higher positions. In China, artists, painters and calligraphers, did gain status and notoriety but again within very limited circles. For Western Civilization, though, it wasn’t until Greek culture flourished that artists gained more notoriety. There also are written records that specifically laud artists for their achievements. Still, art was created for and consumed by the state or the relatively few. Even as late as the Renaissance in northern Europe and Italy, though the status of artists may have improved some, art remained among the powerful and wealthy. Access began to shift as much art became more public in churches and cathedrals.
It wasn’t until commerce began to fuel a new wealthy merchant class, particularly in Flanders and Holland, that artistic subjects and accessibility changed dramatically. The focus shifted from stately portraits and religious paintings to genre painting, pure landscapes, and still lifes. Changes in government and democratic reforms in America and France further fueled shifts in artistic temperament. The individual gained freedom and power. Many artists increasingly chose to express their own preferences rather than simply be dictated to by those in power. War often spread cultural influence as well. Industrialization, technological advances, redistribution of wealth, advances in communication, fluidity of populations – all these influences and more have spread ideas and inspired creativity in the arts.
Granted all this is very generalized and simplified, but the point is that over several thousand years the concepts underlying artistic expression have changed along with other economic and cultural changes. Art has often chronicled these changes as well as having been influenced by them. Artistic expression has become increasingly individually motivated and even self-referential as the state has lost control of this aspect of culture. The responsibility for subject, tone, purpose, and value has become that of the artist. How that responsibility is managed is now as much an artistic choice as creative expression itself.
Posted on 4/4/2012 8:09:59 PM
By Donald Fox
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Bluebonnets
For a period of time I explored abstract images in painting. I wasn’t interested in representational work at that time even though most of my art training was in drawing/painting from the model, still life set-ups, and observed landscapes. Observation translated into drawing or painting was the method used to teach understanding of visual expression at the three or four different schools I attended at one time or another. Some would call this form of training academic, but any approach to teaching painting inevitably brings up terminology that can be misleading and easily misinterpreted. For example, the term abstract can mean work that is not based on anything observed. This is what some would call non-objective. Abstract could also mean that something has been ‘abstracted from’ or distilled from nature. The attempt is to represent the essence of a thing. In this case one might also expect the finished work to resemble the thing painted. But, how do you convey the essence of a bird or a flower or a person? Is it solely by the painting looking like the thing? Do Rembrandt’s self-portraits ever capture the essence of the painter along with a stunning likeness? Does Picasso’s cubist portrait of Ambroise Vollard capture the essence of the man? Many would say yes to the former and no to the latter. I’d say, look again.
We could also parse the meaning of representational, realistic, expression or expressive, interpretive, impressionistic, and countless other terms that are often used in speaking about painting. If terms like these can be misleading or easily misinterpreted, how can we possibly hope to deal with the concept of meaning in art? Well, what do we mean by meaning? Does a painting need to be explained? Certainly viewers often ask the question about paintings and other art forms even when there are recognizable images. “But, what does it mean?” a viewer may ask in perplexity, confusion, or annoyance. Here is where often times the patience of artists is sorely tried. The following are some glib replies:
It doesn’t mean anything. It just is!
Well, what does it mean to you?
What do you mean, what does it mean? Isn’t it obvious?
Why does it have to mean something?
It can mean whatever you want it to mean.
Can a painting of fruit or flowers or bottles on a table have meaning other than a depiction of the objects themselves? Well, it will if it’s a 17th century Dutch still life. It will contain references to mortality and to the cycle of life. There will be insects on the flowers, tiny holes chewed in leaves, a fallen petal or leaf – all of which take on symbolic meaning for the brevity of life, the fading of beauty, and the impermanence of the world. The average viewer may not notice these ideas because they are so captivated by the impressive display of artistic skill. Some paintings of this same period and earlier are allegorical. They represent the foibles of humankind and stand as a visual parable from which to learn. Pieter Breugel’s The Blind Leading the Blind from around 1568 is one such allegory. Many of Breugel’s paintings are narrative and convey satirical, biblical, or genre stories and/or social commentary which are inseparable parts of the meaning of the works.
Meaning in art doesn’t have to be narrative or even philosophical, but it likely will be metaphorical and symbolic. By its very nature, art deals with metaphor and symbol. When an artist paints a tree, he or she is painting a symbolic representation of that tree using colored shapes made with some medium on a specific type of surface. The painted image stands for a tree – it is not actually a tree. There may also be the suggestion of light, atmosphere, time of day or season, and other references to the visual idea of the tree. The viewer may simply think tree or make associations based on personal experience with trees. The artist has little control over the viewer’s response. So then, does that painting of a tree have meaning? Certainly it does. The meaning is implied in the choice of tree, the point of view, the time of day and year, and whether or not the artists has added or altered the image or included anything to evoke particular emotional content. Is there a specific message? That is a different question, the answer to which will depend again on the intention of the artist and what he/she may have included for the benefit of the viewer.
As an artist, I think metaphorically when I write and when I paint. There is always a reason behind what I do, and that reason may or may not be directly expressed in the work. Something of that reasoning will filter through no matter what. Because I take what I do seriously, I work with awareness, and I choose subjects and images for their expressive qualities, which becomes part of the meaning inherent to the finished work. Some artists may work in a spontaneous manner, but even that spontaneous expression becomes part of the meaning of the artwork. It is my belief that art is always meaningful. It is a purposeful activity with a particular end result. The result reflects the meaning of the activity. If it does not, then there is no art.
Posted on 4/3/2012 4:37:06 PM
By Donald Fox
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Early Evening
The concept of time is an intriguing phenomenon. We easily measure out hours, days, weeks, months and think little of it. We commit to jobs or studies or relationships with the thought that some are of specified duration, and as such can be readily endured for there is a bigger picture, a grander scale within which these smaller segments fit. Some, certain relationships, for example, we see as open ended. The relationships with parents or siblings or spouses we either take for granted as enduring or step into willingly and think that they will endure. This is the way life is; this is the way of things. A few of us may question these concepts or question the experience of life itself. We may wonder at its quirkiness, its unpredictability, what sometimes seems like its unfairness. Someone may chastise us or comfort us for doing so and say that, after all, we’re only human. The other animals don’t appear to be concerned with these questions for it is the lot of humans to inquire about our very nature.
As a child it always seemed to me that summers were endless, except they did end, and school years were endless as well but they also concluded. The time from school beginning to Halloween or to Thanksgiving or to Christmas was beyond measure even when I could easily count the days. But all of these demarcations of dates or activities could be experienced as passing in a flash, and, once they had gone, they were merely a memory. We have this capacity to experience time as fleeting or as enduring, and we do not always appear to be at choice in the matter.
Recently I’ve had the opportunity to study a variety of 17th century Dutch paintings from two extensive collections. These works are ones that take time to appreciate. The clarity of the images, attention to detail, and complexity of compositions demand that the viewer carefully study all parts, which cannot be done with a casual glance. It is obvious, of course, that even small paintings of this type took extensive time to complete. With some of the painters, stories linger of them dealing with impatient collectors who wanted paintings but had to wait because the artist needed extra months, not just days, to finish a painting according to personal plan.
There are still painters today who follow such traditional working methods and have not succumbed to the pressure of instant gratification that has followed hard on the advances in automotive engine combustion, jet propulsion, and computer technology. Those who still remember the days before television will be gone in not too many more years. Not long after that so will those who remember days before computers. The modern mindset is to hurry – we want faster cars, faster transportation, faster computers – in short, the faster the better. Even artists who paint directly with newer techniques and materials and who may work at a much faster pace than the traditional ones, still understand that art cannot be rushed. Speed is irrelevant to the artistic process.
Art, it is often said, is timeless. We marvel at work that was created thousands of years ago. We marvel at unique work done yesterday. The appreciation of art is not bound by time. Why, then, should its manufacture be judged according to time frame whether slow or fast? How long did it take to paint that is an often asked question, but that is usually by one who doesn’t fully understand the complexity of art. I don’t just mean complexity in terms of a particular image. I’m talking about how art impacts an individual, a society, or generations from inception forward into time. It is the complexity of the experience of the work, its relationship to the artist and to the viewer. With art, one can truly experience eons in a matter of moments. One can also take hours, days, or weeks in the study of a single work and still not fully comprehend all that it has to give. This is part of the magic of art and one of the things that makes art timeless. Perhaps this is also one of the gifts of art to us: it allows us to see that we too are fleeting and enduring.
Posted on 4/2/2012 5:33:33 PM
By Donald Fox
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Brushes
How we approach what we do may well be more important than what we do. Certainly the approach will affect the outcome. As a longtime teacher of writing, painting, dance, and martial arts, I see and have seen a huge difference between students who are serious, prepared, and dedicated to the task at hand and those who are not. There really is no middle ground. The dedicated ones will do even when they don’t feel like doing.
It’s easy to tell when someone is not 100% on task, and there will be times when that touches each of us. Those who are dedicated, though, even when not at 100% will create a shift for themselves in the very act of trying. They may start out at 75%, but soon are functioning close to their usual full-on selves. They get energy from the act of doing. They are transformed by the active participation. Whatever else may have been going on has been dissolved by their willingness to be present. The others either don’t show up mentally or emotionally, or they don’t show up at all.
Like most people, I have many interests, and interests take time to be nurtured. Fortunately, the majority of my interests have something to do with art. In fact, most of my interests came from my commitment to art. Each activity feeds into my art making in some way or other. Therefore I am pretty much always on task with regard to doing art. If I am not painting or drawing, I am writing about, thinking about, researching, networking, planning, or visualizing something related to art. I can make it an art experience to mow the yard or wash dishes. Those who have a passion for what they do know what I’m talking about.
Yes, there are times when other commitments or challenges that life brings potentially infringe on time to create, time to paint. I certainly hear that complaint from fellow artists and people I know who are not artists but who are committed to some other endeavor. The successful people I know, however, are the ones who do their tasks anyway. They have created a mindset that enables them to do even when doing is the most challenging. The commitment to their passion is unwavering.
Many artists, writers, and other achievers have remarked on the importance of daily regimens. It is the consistent doing that creates desired results. Recently I came across a statement from the French writer Emile Zola, an early friend of Paul Cezanne - "One forges one's style on the terrible anvil of daily deadlines....The artist is nothing without the gift, but the gift is nothing without work."
Posted on 4/1/2012 3:25:15 PM
By Donald Fox
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Bank Right
The popular television series Star Trek always begins with the voiceover, “Space – the final frontier…” while viewers are looking at a black field containing pinpoints of light. The suggestion in this science fiction entertainment is that humanity has ‘conquered’ all earth-bound frontiers. The last frontier to explore is the vastness of outer space. As the story lines often show, however, it is the inner space of men’s minds that is most challenged and challenging, for all those human foibles have changed little including that huge problem of human pride.
Physical space is something contemporary humans feel they have mastered on many levels. Instruments of measurement enable us to pinpoint something to far smaller than a hair’s breadth. Advances in microscopy lead us toward the infinitely small even as advances in telescopy have us searching for the edges of the known universe. Even without spaceships powered by warp drives or the ability to beam ourselves from one location to another, we feel confident in our skill to create spacious homes, maneuverable streets, increasingly tall buildings, the reclamation of desert into productive farms, and numerous other managements of the shrinking available space on our home planet. We can find our exact location on this orb 24/7 via GPS whenever we choose. It’s not surprising, then, that we feel we own the space we inhabit.
With all of our accumulated knowledge and purported understanding, we still seem to find space intriguing, mysterious, and somewhat elusive. We try to fence it in or to fence it out. Given time, however, the simple removal of a barrier and the space shifts dramatically. Perhaps it is the boundary, that which we use to describe or contain space that is the challenge to our consciousness. Doesn’t the sky somehow seem larger at the seashore? I’ve heard many easterners say after a visit to western states that the sky seemed so much more expansive out there. The boundaries with which they were familiar had shifted.
As a painter I am endlessly fascinated by the space of a canvas. I pay close attention to how the space changes as I add one stroke of paint or area of color after another. I know that moving a shape (or object) further from or closer to another will change the dynamics of their relationship because I have changed the space between them. I can adjust a composition by focusing on the space between shapes and use the ‘shape of the space’ to define the edges of the objects. I know that in the painting the space is equally as important as the objects being painted. The space has substance even when there appears to be nothing there.
Space is all around us and inside us as well. We feel comforted by space as we wrap each other in warm embraces, or we feel intimidated by its vastness – cast adrift upon the sea or stranded in the middle of the desert. We attempt to manage space, sometimes to an advantage and sometimes to our detriment. Artistically, space (and how we use it) becomes a powerful metaphor for life and how we experience it.
