Blog
Posted on 8/1/2016
By Donald Fox
Comment on this
The rain begins slowly, a few drops here and there, seemingly at random. Gradually the numbers increase, and what was an irregular pattern of drops becomes an increasingly rapid and insistent rhythm of falling water. It creates a steady sound of continuous breaking waves on the rooftop. After a time, the sound will taper off as the rain lessens to the reverse of how it began, fading to a few drops here and there. From a broad enough perspective this and other rain showers could be seen as a pattern of showers occurring at specific intervals over time, but this current rain actually becomes louder and stronger as the rain falls more heavily. Even so, it will ultimately fade away, and still there could be a pattern of sorts.
The idea of a pattern is that there is repetition. We might also think regularity because we consider that pattern means not simply repetition at any time but repetition at regular intervals. For example, a pattern of wallpaper includes a set series of elements that is repeated again and again until a whole surface is covered. If images occur randomly, we don’t consider that a pattern at all. We might call it happenstance but not a pattern.
On the other hand, can’t there also be an irregular pattern? There are repeated elements, but they just might not be repeated with regularity. Painters tend to look for patterns in nature. Rarely do they find exact repetition although some things might at first appear to be regular. Consider a field of flowers as an example. Color and shape are repeated over a given area, and it seems like there is a pattern that emerges. On closer inspection, however, the size, height, and spacing of the flowers are irregular. Even the colors are slightly different. They may all be red, but some are a bit lighter or a bit darker. In actuality there is randomness where initially there seemed to be pattern.
What the painter really is looking for when he/she says that pattern is the concern, is contrast between light and dark. How this shows up could be described as a light-dark pattern, but it is most often an irregular arrangement of dark and light areas that to the painter’s eye simplify the complexity of individual forms and objects. Because of this simplification, the tendency is to think of pattern – the artist is, after all, looking for (and imposing) a kind of order on those random elements that is called design or composition (the ordering of elements). Even so, we could say that there are all sorts of approximate patterns that are visible in nature: striations in certain kinds of rocks or minerals, the directional movement of fur or hair or feathers, the arrangement of leaves on the boughs of trees, or the alignment of clouds created by high altitude winds, as examples. All of the previous are also revealed to the eye by light-dark contrast for that is how we perceive texture.
Directional movement, similarity of size or shape, repetition of objects within space, all create a kind of visual rhythm. And rhythm, I think almost always we associate with pattern; we perceive a pattern within the sounds, the variations between the highs and lows. Rhythm, repetition, and pattern are interrelated although not interchangeable. We are attuned to these things, and utilizing our senses we are aware of the differences that we note as rhythmical, repeated, or read as patterns. This is how we organize the world that we perceive, This is also how artists create interest and order in art.
Posted on 7/31/2016 5:30:09 PM
By Donald Fox
Comment on this
Nature is full of wonders. Part of our amazing transformation from childhood to adulthood is the learning process that accompanies our growth and maturation. Each person is exposed to many experiences that include those that occur within the individual family, the cultural influences absorbed from the particular culture of which he or she is a part, education from the schools one attends, and these days from a seemingly unlimited exposure to information online and in the media. If one is observant and thoughtful, as are most artists, many of the visual experiences lead to broader understanding because they will either fit with what is learned elsewhere or beg questioning those things that appear to be different from what is known.
Visual artists for centuries worked to capture images of the world around them. These were not simple copies no matter how carefully observed. Painters and graphic artists often made adjustments and editorial decisions many of which came to define the distinctive styles we may see in their work. Also, however, on a practical level, only so much can be registered on canvas or paper from what is observed; there are limitations to what can be shown. Artists learn this quickly and make use of this insight as they create compositions. Sometimes, however, what may be seen in nature is just so much more amazing than what might be represented by the artist, and, sometimes the artist’s depiction creates wonders unique to the creative mind. These latter ones grow, perhaps magically, from the artist’s experience.
My mind is filled with visual memories of the most fantastic scenes from mountains on both coasts of America to mountains seen in my limited travels in Europe, Canada, and Mexico. Today, though, I came across this image on the internet that reminded me of images only seen in the small scale of individual gemstones or images from microscopic wonders. This image comes from the Rainbow Mountains in Gansu, China, which are part of the Zhangye Danxia Landform Geological Park. Densely packed minerals create the multi-colored mountains. This reminds me that there is so much more to experience, and this fills me with anticipation and wonder. Just imagine how these colors will change through the course of a day and into evening.
Posted on 7/30/2016 6:31:37 PM
By Donald Fox
Comment on this
Cats like defined spaces. They play inside paper bags, climb into open cabinets, or seek out small stacks of paper left on the floor. One of my cats who died some years ago especially loved to sleep inside an empty box. He was long and lean and would curl his body to perfectly conform to the corners and edges as though he explored in his sleep the mystery of that rectangle or square. Walking past the box I might glance now and then, and each time I would see a new design he had made with legs and tail and tucked head on his side, on his back, or oddly twisted with part of his body facing down and the other part facing up. This was particularly striking since his body was dark gray while his belly, chin, chest, front paws, and hind legs were white. Some of his poses nearly made a feline yin-yang symbol inside that squared box frame. I meditate sometimes on a photo I took of him in his favorite box, one leg marking an exact forty-five degree angle into one corner.
The rectangle and its perfect partner, the square, are intriguing spaces for the painter. As blank surfaces they hold infinite possibility. They are like enticing playgrounds wherein the painter may travel small distances that suddenly loom larger than life. Size and scale belie the physical limitations of real measurement that melts away as imaginative vision moves beyond into space that can expand without boundary. Edges are mere echoes of internal activity that can reverberate endlessly. The artist may stretch cat-like in any direction only to realize that boundary defines a juncture but not a stopping place. The mind can leap to the other side of line or shape or form.
Posted on 7/29/2016 6:25:59 PM
By Donald Fox
Comment on this
Five days each week I drive the same route to the school where I work teaching and overseeing the library. In this respect I am like millions of others who commute to their place of work every weekday and sometimes on weekends. This has become such an accepted part of life that few seriously question the practice though many may talk or dream about not having to do this repetitious activity. I don’t know about others, but I like to make my time on the road useful, so frequently I listen to National Public Radio (NPR), which through the local affiliate station offers thoughtful programming throughout the day. I can make this time a time for learning about local, national, and international affairs. Sometimes there are special programs related to the arts or information about events of interest. Even if I’m not specifically listening to NPR and driving with music or relative silence, I can take in visual stimulation that feeds my inner creative mind.
The fifteen or so miles I drive down I-45 South (that has been under construction for well over a year now) has not changed appreciably for some time. I can see progress in the roadwork, but mostly the surrounding area has changed little. There are intersecting roads, small concentrations of businesses, a large mall close to school, and several strip centers on both sides of the freeway. I can see the traffic flows on these access roads, and it is easy to imagine people going about their treks to work or shopping destinations. This is the daily flow of life and commerce in this one area, and I am part of that. I can easily note the difference in traffic at specific time periods, day of the week, or whether I’m headed south towards school or north towards home. There is the mixture of feeling part of the bustling energy and the thoughts or emotions associated with expectations at work or at home.
Many times, however, I am most interested in observing the landscape as it is affected by the current weather conditions. This whole area is southeast Texas coastal plain even though it is thirty some miles from the actual coast. Still, weather patterns that originate in the Gulf push northward and encounter less humid air that travels south. This frequently creates massive cloud formations that can be seen for miles all around. There can be dark clouds in one part of the sky while light, thin, or spotty clouds are in another part. The coloration of these clouds is often amazingly subtle and beautiful with fine gradations of blues, grays, and occasional yellowish-brown that most often is shaded from light to dark. Sometimes there can be an intensely blue patch of clear sky surrounded by variegated clouds that may dramatically shift in brightness if the sunlight hits them directly.
Though I dislike driving in the rain, I appreciate that it often brings cooler temperatures with it. This is especially appreciated as we move into the dog days of August and September. Temperature and humidity are like cloaks that anyone wears but desires to shed when either of these factors begin to rise. The primarily visual experience of moving through this landscape in an air conditioned car abruptly changes to a total immersion experience after stopping and emerging from the insulated cocoon. The wet, warm cloaks engulf the body from top to bottom. This is all part of the sensual experience that primes the artistic spirit so that it can express its own form of upper level disturbance.
Posted on 7/28/2016
By Donald Fox
Comment on this
Many challenges in life require some knowledge to be addressed, but most require specific thinking skills, for these challenges are problems that must be solved. Critical thinking skills are primarily how we successfully meet challenges. This was wonderfully illustrated in the film Apollo 13, when a fire aboard the returning spacecraft threatens the module’s power and astronauts’ oxygen supply. For a time they go dark using minimal power and without communication with NASA. Engineers back home work on potential solutions to bringing the craft and astronauts safely to Earth. They gather together the simple items and/or tools that the astronauts would have on the spacecraft: bits of hose, duct tape, tubing, fabric, and a few odd tools. They must imaginatively employ these items as the only materials available to the astronauts with which they can address their predicament and create a safe resolution. Fortunately, the engineers are able to succeed, and the astronauts are able to employ what is at hand under the direction of the control center.
Many of us solve problems in similar peripatetic ways in our jobs and in daily life. Artists are used to improvising and adapting various tools to artistic purposes in order to create novel solutions. In a way this is sometimes like taking an open book quiz. There is access to information, but the information has to be understood and utilized in order to be of value. I see students struggling with open book quizzes all the time. They have difficulty interpreting questions. You might think that everyone is going to make a perfect score. After all, the answers are in the book or written in notes. The problem, however, is that questions must first be understood and information deciphered in order to adequately answer questions. This requires reading skills and the ability to insightfully use information to best advantage. From the answers that students give, it is usually easy for me to see that either they have not understood a question, or they haven’t understood information that they read in an attempt to answer a question.
I always tell students in advance of a quiz to read questions carefully because they wouldn’t want to err unnecessarily. If they are uncertain about any terminology used, they should look that up in the text. Make sure everything is understood before trying to answer to narrow down the possibilities. When faced with selecting a correct sample sentence from a group of sentences, however, there must be some understanding of basic correct structure. Not only must certain guidelines be known but also how to implement them. This often requires reasoning, which is a form of critical thinking. I can readily tell from an answer when a student has no idea about a particular concept or application. This is sad, for learning basic concepts and becoming familiar with examples is where the focus of learning is placed rather than on memorizing a bunch of factual information.
Artists learn certain principles of design and composition and basic use of their tools. It is only through practice, application and experimentation - in short, the gaining of skill and experience – that they are able to be successful creators. Experience is the best teacher, but this is always within a certain framework. There is some general knowledge necessary in order to understand whatever might be experienced. Otherwise, one would simply be thrashing about with little or no focus. Lessons are learned in many ways, however, and not everyone’s path is the same. Somewhere along the way, fundamentals must be grasped and must become familiar enough to be readily utilized. Once that happens, individual ingenuity will grow according to a student’s active involvement. Practice may not lead to perfection, but it will lead to production and that will flower according to the gardener.
Posted on 7/27/2016
By Donald Fox
Comment on this
Some of the earliest examples of art, those magnificent cave paintings that range between ten and forty thousand years old, depict what could be called worshipful pictures of animals along with animals being killed. We don’t read these latter ones as being savage representations because we understand this was part of humans’ struggle to exist. Yet in later examples of painting and sculpture from ancient civilizations, we see other depictions of death both of animals and of humans. There is the beautifully expressive although intense Assyrian bas-relief of the Dying Lioness. There are equally difficult images of animal hunts from Egypt and Greece. We also find many depictions of battle scenes with brutal images of fallen and mutilated soldiers. And through the following centuries we could list numerous examples of decapitations, murders, rapes, mutilations, and other scenes of brutality captured in aesthetic representations for the purpose of propaganda, to show subjugation, to illustrate power, to incite fear, and to exert psychological control over others along with simple chronicling of events deemed important by the conqueror or the conquered.
Ancient texts in poetry, song, literature, and drama deal with gruesome acts by deities and humans alike, the use of deities perhaps to in some way excuse or ameliorate the brutality of which humans were capable. Even many religious texts tell story after story of brutality and debasement not always committed by the evil ones. This aggressive side of humans has been portrayed again and again in art for many thousands of years and continues into the present. Since the invention of photography, we have gone beyond imaginative portrayals to include visual recording of actual depraved events. Some of the earliest moving portraits of death and destruction are those Civil War images of Matthew Brady and his fellow photographers.
It should not be surprising that for many a popular form of artistic entertainment is the murder mystery. Even this goes back thousands of years to early tragic theater and preceding that to tales and legends of the Gods and other mythical or religious literature. Humans seem fascinated by death and destruction, and, ironically, many representations of these cruel acts are depicted in quite beautiful ways. We could argue that many of these are instructive or are intended to be transformative, cathartic as was built into early Greek tragedies. Part of the purpose of art was to create catharsis, to purge in a sense the negative emotions, especially pity and fear. Perhaps this positive effect has value in some cases, but modern storytellers in many art forms have taken negative expression to absurd extremes.
A question, then, is hyperbolic treatment a reflection of what occurs within the larger culture (and so a response to it) or is it titillation because the artist knows that appeal to the baser instincts will guarantee a kind of prurient interest? Is the artist exposing a human weakness in order to address and reform it, or is the artist either innocently or purposefully contributing to the perpetuation of such expression? The same might be asked about any expression of violence whether sanctioned by the state or religious belief. Hopefully artists who use such images are asking hard questions and not adding to the problem.
Posted on 7/26/2016
By Donald Fox
Comment on this
The residential neighborhood where I grew up in North Carolina sat at the edge of a development. A few blocks from our house were railroad tracks that ran east-west, and north of theses tracks was a large, heavily wooded area that stretched for many square miles towards the county airport and beyond. Many of the neighborhood kids spent hours exploring those woods, playing all sorts of kids’ games, and sometimes camping there overnight. The woods included stretches of deciduous trees like scrub oak and maple, other sections that were less dense with tall longleaf pines, and still of other areas filled with scrub growth, parts of which were impassable. Mostly the landscape was flat, but a few areas contained small gullies predominantly in the pine section of the forest. These woods filled my imagination with the many stories from legends and fables that I read. Even scenes set in ancient Greece or parts of Asia I always saw as some parts of those woods that I came to know well.
Experience is the best teacher as the saying goes, and in subsequent years as I explored many types of landscapes throughout and America and in parts of Europe there was always comparison to that coastal pine forest and its seductive nature. My boyish imagination of the time allowed me to easily see tribes of Indians, all sorts of forest denizens including ghouls and goblins from the horror stories I liked to read. Something else, though, has stuck in my memory from those early days, and that is the quiet of a natural setting away from the noise and smell of cars, racket resulting from lawn mowers or fire engines, or even barking dogs and slamming doors. These were replaced by songbirds, the calls of crows, or the languorous sound of wind whispering through the longleaf pines that sometimes reminded me of a distant ocean whose breaking waves create a continuous rhythmical music.
Something of those woods frequently makes its way into my paintings although not in an explicit manner. The shifting spaces that I experienced there, however, could easily be read in openings between branches and leaves that allowed light to filter through. Deep shadows could be seen among the thickest foliage and these contrasted readily with erratic patterns of sunlight cast upon the ground or painting the sides of trees. Color too was intensely variegated – bright to dull, warm to cool, and light to dark. These patterns became imprinted on my mind, and I can easily see them still in my mind’s eye. My creative self draws upon these images and experiences again and again in my work. I also fully understand artists like Cézanne who said that nature is the best teacher.
Posted on 7/25/2016
By Donald Fox
Comment on this
A summer afternoon rain shower is typical of southeast Texas during the months of June through August – warm, moist air from the Gulf meets hot, dry air and a thunderstorm ensues. Weather follows basic principles as do all things in nature. There is predictability but no certainty for the variables are many and there is constant change. The natural forces are always in motion, which means that to some degree there also is an element of chance. The weather, therefore, is predictable and unpredictable at the same time. The possibility of storms may be great, even probable, but unless there is the confluence of all factors necessary, a storm will not develop. We can fault the weatherman when weather patterns do not follow the forecast, but we should know that weather prediction is dealing with probability and not certainty, for it follows models based on current and projected conditions and those conditions are always subject to change.
A painter may begin a painting, and we might say that all conditions indicate a successful outcome. The painter is inspired. He or she has training and experience, a place to work, and all the necessary materials. If some other ingredient is missing, however, the painting may not manifest as predicted. There can be distraction, there can be unforeseen obstacles or interference, or the artist may discover that something internal is off. Perhaps there was not enough sleep the night before, perhaps last night’s dinner resists proper digestion, or perhaps another idea insists on making itself known. A disciplined artist will push through these obstacles, but he or she may also recognize when something is off and choose to direct energies elsewhere.
Creativity is not a science. It can depend on inspiration, which itself is not automatic though it can be encouraged. It can be stimulated by disciplined and frequent application of energy. The artist cultivates creativity by engaging in activities that encourage its presence: drawing, listening to music, looking at pleasurable or engaging images, reading or researching, actively observing, doing physical activity, or practicing mindful meditation. Every artist will have a number of activities that stimulate creative thinking, and this is where the disciplined mind will supply motivation to engage in those activities. This is a choice always, but discipline encourages that choice. Discipline itself grows from repeated actions that are the result of repeated choices to act. This is why athletes practice and train regularly off the field. So must the artist create a habit of practice and training in order to continue to express creatively.
Posted on 7/24/2016 3:49:28 PM
By Donald Fox
Comment on this
The 2006 film Children of Men presents a dystopian future 2027 in which humans have become sterile. There have been no births for nineteen years, and society is collapsing worldwide. England is one of few countries that maintain some sense of order though under military law, and potential refugees from other countries are forcibly held at bay by fences and cages or are continuously captured, deported, or killed. Even in this country, however, anarchists fight the dying order.
One section of London remains idyllic and separate, under heavy guard, where the rich and government elite live privileged and relatively safe lives. One minister is charged with overseeing art that has been salvaged from various parts of the world although the purpose is unclear since within another fifty years or so all humans will be dead. In this compound we see a damaged Michelangelo’s David with the lower left leg replaced by a metal rod that connects the knee to the foot. It is as though this sculptural symbol of the perfection of the human form doesn’t have a leg to stand on much like humanity itself. Also ironic is that humans damaged the art that is one of the icons of creative expression, and what was once universally public is now in private hands and likely already forgotten by the struggling and doomed masses that it represents.
Another piece seen briefly is Picasso’s Guernica, obviously removed at some point from the Prado. More irony is implied since this painting represents a horrific slaughter during a period of Spanish civil war, and civil war is now rampant worldwide. No references are made to how either piece came to be rescued, which would have been Herculean tasks both physically and politically.
One could debate the merits of the story and its plot and speculate on the parallels of current mass immigration of Middle Easterners throughout Europe, the potential dissolution of the European Union beginning with Brexit, and the anarchistic disruption by factions like Isis, Al Qaeda, and other groups intent on changing world order, or the potential conflict over access to water. Any of these might raise question regarding the place of art in future society. Is art a stabilizing influence or something representative of the excesses of power and wealth? Is the sacrifice made by artists to create their art in the face of challenges an act of faith or the most extreme egoism and selfishness? What is the place of art in a world where, increasingly, basic survival is the most pressing issue? Is art a motivating factor for good and among humanity’s highest aspirations, or is it an indulgence that betrays a cynical view of the growing split between the haves and the have-nots?
Just as universities and colleges have been named ivory towers for those that teach and work there, art is seen by many as a luxury, and one that few can afford. Popular entertainment and professional sports are huge self-sustaining industries that employ many people in various capacities and generate massive amounts of money. The fine arts are less so but still require huge investments to maintain symphony orchestras and major museums, most of which are privately funded. It could be argued that these are elite indulgences except that blockbuster exhibits have become increasingly popular since at least the third quarter of the twentieth century. There is evidence of broad appeal for painting and sculpture though not reaching the popularity of movies and sports. Even so, the arts factor in to a cultural mix that sustains and to some extent educates society at large. There may even be a kind of trickle-down theory for artistic expression that is as viable as that in economics. The burden on those of us who work in the arts is to become more vocal supporters and advocates for that which we love. We know its value and its potential for effecting change. We have to be educators as well in order to promote and preserve.
Posted on 7/23/2016 7:55:37 PM
By Donald Fox
Comment on this
When I first began studying art as a serious student many years ago, I was frequently excited by new works and new artists I encountered. Those were pre-internet days and my travel was greatly restricted, so most discoveries came either in small museums or university galleries, in art sections of book stores, or in libraries. Art survey and art history books gave a pretty good overview, but looking back I can easily see that my understanding of art history was piecemeal at best and sorely limited. Consequently, I found myself continually updating my internal historical narrative.
Also, students tend to be heavily influenced by artists and works to which they feel drawn, and I was certainly one of those students. My own expressive efforts were hampered by this narrow and spotty perspective and a very limited visual vocabulary. Gradually, however, I did learn and continue to learn some forty years later.
Fortunately, I have sustained that sense of awe and wonder upon seeing engaging work for the first time (and the best work draws me in again and again). I’ve also been able to observe many of the finest paintings by scores of the best artists including many large exhibits that have brought together major works by the biggest names in Western art from the Renaissance to the present including a wide range of modern and contemporary masters. Residing in a city with a world class museum of which I have been a member for thirty years has educated me in ways I would otherwise have struggled to attain. As a result, my visual vocabulary is now encyclopedic, and I can see connections and allusions of present to past in most works I encounter.
Learning about art as an expressive artist and as a student of art history truly is a lifelong process. It is also one I eagerly engage with on a daily basis, for this is a vocation, an avocation, and an abiding passion.
Posted on 7/22/2016 4:24:59 PM
By Donald Fox
Comment on this
Anyone can think anything about anything or anyone. Publicly, anyone cannot say anything about anyone or anything because 1) there is always someone to disagree, 2) although free speech is protected, there are laws that prohibit slander, and 3) now there are fact-checking websites that anyone can easily access to find unbiased assessments of those spun statements so prevalent in the media. We have, however, politics, advertising, business, and religion, four areas where anything is often said about anyone and anything, and each has its sacred text to uphold its doctrine. Unfortunately, art is included in the controversy because art straddles all these worlds, not surprisingly, since art is created by people and people created all these worlds.
This week has seen the first of two major political conventions in America leading up to the presidential race and election in November. This happens every four years, and along with this recurrent event comes the predictable rancor from the left and the right and from the outsiders that also include the indifferent. This latter group, however, is indifferent precisely because they care but have been ignored, insulted, or discounted and thereby have concluded that the system is rigged, is filled with the greedy, the immoral, and the corrupt, and is intransigent and incapable of reform (this in spite of claims from both sides that each has the cure for the body politic).
What often ensues is a freak show put on largely by beautiful people behaving badly while spouting patriotic slogans with one side of a forked tongue and vehement vitriol against political rivals with the other side of that bifurcated instrument. There is a long history of this kind of discourse, which goes back to ancient times and likely into prehistory. Art has often reflected much of this, more recently as social criticism, but also as an instrument of the religious ruling class, and/or as the propaganda arm of the state. Modern (20th century) and contemporary art may be less universally employed in these areas, but there is the politicizing of the market place and the new art church in the form of the art museum supported by the wealthy, commercial and corporate donors, and in smaller amounts through membership by larger numbers of private citizens.
Individual artists may think themselves immune to the political establishment, but practically every generation juggles with the challenge of art as personal statement versus art as commercial product. A political game of sorts must be played by the artist who desires to be a commercial success. Anyone thinking otherwise has little understanding of business. To say that art is not affected by these outside pressures is naïve in the extreme.
Posted on 7/21/2016
By Donald Fox
Comment on this
Parallel Windows
Distant clouds, distant trees, an open field stretching east several miles – there was a time when everything was not segmented and parceled, cut through with roads and subdivisions and shopping centers. From space there are no boundaries as many astronauts have noted numerous times, but our vision has more often than not been limited to what is before us, and there is comfort in what is known. Even as artists we see with the mind’s eye but always link back to the familiar while suggesting that what we imagine is limitless. Perhaps all we can do is reflect what we know as limitation: our physical boundaries, the relatively narrow temperature span within which we survive, the slim region of visible light, the small range of our hearing, the necessary quantity of oxygen without which we perish, or the range of years that seem to vanish overnight. The imagination is our compensation for what could otherwise be considered a short-changed existence. We accumulate knowledge but even that could be gone in an instant or drained slowly depending on happenstance or heritage.
All that is can be read as miraculous and potentially unlimited – miraculous, yes, but unlimited is only speculation. Still, we revel in our accomplishments and the accoutrements of culture, the collective wisdom and historical record of our species. There are amazing works in our art and our science. We have been the great tool makers, the great builders, the visioneers of all things possible, and there may yet be more that as yet is undreamed. We are privileged to look back in time, however, to discover and read our past even to times before there were written records to follow. We have taught ourselves to read rocks and bones maybe not too unlike metaphorical tea leaf readers. We have fabricated a back story, as it were, and some dare to imagine future scenarios. Sometimes parts of these fantasies become reality, at least for a time.
Are we a collective brain, a collective consciousness that creates diversions like thinking that we are individuals with unique properties when we are really like the flowers that bloom in a field? Each is separate but resembles its neighbor, is similar while also being unique. How many interpretations are there that coexist within the same framework? How do we commit to a single understanding that separates from everything else, that stands alone as truth and everything else a fiction? How is one art better than another, one belief stronger, one ideology more worthy, one religion more powerful, any one thing more truthful, or one people more deserving?
Posted on 7/20/2016
By Donald Fox
Comment on this
The August issue of The Sun, a wonderful literary journal published in my home state of North Carolina, contains an excerpt from William Jordan’s A Cat Named Darwin. I love cats and have written about them many times in blogs, but there was something particularly interesting in this excerpt. Jordan writes, “The fact is, those we grow to love continue to live in the synapses and molecules of memory, and as long as we exist, so they exist as part of the brain. That is what happens when anyone loves anyone, or anything. It doesn’t matter to the neurons deep in the brain whether those whom you loved were human or animal.” To this I would add, nor does it matter whether they are art or nature.
Memory is a powerful part of who we are for it is the storehouse of our experience and knowledge. Artists, even before the advent of the psychological sciences, have been fascinated by memory and have utilized it again and again as part of art and artistic expression. Ancient bards committed stories, tales, and legends to memory and entertained others with long recitations, spoken or sung. In prehistory and before written language, traditions and oral history were committed to memory and passed on from generation to generation often in ritualized form. Certain traditional secrets might be revealed as a rite of passage into adulthood. Memory exists at an even deeper level within our DNA, and all kinds of racial, biological (and likely some experiential) information is inherited from ancient ancestors without ever being verbalized.
I especially like Jordan’s use of language in suggesting those that we love “continue to live in the synapses and molecules of memory.” I am reminded of Candace Pert’s amazing book The Molecules of Emotion wherein she, from a psychoneurobiologist’s perspective, explores the possibilities of feeling, experience, and memory at a molecular level within the body. She asserts that we know, we experience, with more than the thinking brain. The brain, in fact, is not limited to our heads. There is a neural network, a molecular network, throughout our bodies that makes us more like a living brain than only a body that contains a brain. This makes so much sense when we consider the experience of being in the zone, of being totally absorbed with some creative activity because we are not simply being mental. We are sensing, perceiving, thinking with all parts of our being.
I suspect there are many similarities among the physical-psychic expressions of dancers, painters, and musicians all of whom use their bodies synchronized with their minds. We can say that a painter feels with his eyes or sees with his hands (and the brush) just as a musician and his instrument are one and the same in the moment of creation. This could be seen as mystical, but it can just as easily be seen as real world psycho-physical experience. Mind, body, and spirit are attuned and expressing simultaneously as one unit. Perhaps this sounds very Zen-like, and that certainly is a legitimate way to describe the experience, but if metaphysics says that the body is spirit made manifest, then why can’t artistic expression also be spirit (artistic breath) made manifest (the resultant art)?
Posted on 7/19/2016
By Donald Fox
Comment on this
Window Meditation
“Painting for me is a form of meditation. I do become one with the subject as I paint it. I sense that oneness as I contemplate the paintings of other artists. I appreciate the process of growth that has brought me to the understanding that artistic expression is an expression of life. It is life speaking through the artist and the artist revealing an individual life through the painting.” This was written in December of 2010 as part of a series of blogs titled “Why I Love Art,” and the idea expressed here is a spiritual one as much as an idea connected with natural processes.
Artist and mystic have a lot in common. The mystic communes with nature and the underlying energy that animates it. Naming this energy sometimes brings controversy for there is no complete agreement on that name or its attributes. Just as there are different artistic expressions so also are there different spiritual expressions. What is consistent is the sense of connection, of feeling that there is deeper meaning and something that can be revealed.
Whether or not the revelation is tangible and real is another question. Perhaps, like life, it simply is expressed. That we would say is real enough, yet the human mind always seeks purpose and meaning. What if, then, purpose, meaning, what we call truth, are simply fictions created by the imagination? It is the human mind’s reason for being, that is, to give itself purpose, to convince itself that it has purpose. Meaning can then follow many forms all which fall within the realm of human understanding. Anything beyond that is meaningless. We understand, for example, the electromagnetic spectrum and the range of perceptible phenomena within that set of vibrations. Some things on that spectrum are beyond the perception of our senses, but through devices created from our collective imagination, we are able to perceive other frequencies like x-rays, gamma rays, radio waves, and so on.
Can we also then begin to perceive things beyond our level of understanding? Isn’t that how we got to now? Didn’t we imagine and thereby create the space for something new to show up? May we not continue down that road? Are not art and creative expression significant, if not vital, parts of that process?
Posted on 7/17/2016 6:05:55 PM
By Donald Fox
Comment on this
What would an abstract painting in prose look like? Nothing like a seashore, that’s for sure, except the bluish-green curve melding into grayish-purple abutting against orange-tan stroke that moves diagonally and crosses a field of greenish gray – I once saw a shell that blue-green color. I must have been six or seven years old and had been chasing sand fiddlers, those little crustaceans that float in with the waves then quickly dig into wet sand while the last of the thinned water is absorbed as though by a sponge.
If you quickly dig with your hands, you can catch the fiddlers before they burrow too deeply. Catch them and toss them into a bucket filled with sea water. Sun filters through the red plastic basket’s sides and the sea water looks dirty orange but clear enough to see through since all sand has sunk to the bottom where fiddlers still frantically dig though their churning legs can’t even scratch the red plastic bottom. Cross this with blue nearly as bright as the sky on a cloudless summer’s day. Stroke after stroke the texture builds, scraped down, more texture added, scraped again, more texture added this time with spatulas – blended color wet into wet but unlike sand, this is smooth and graduated.
Waves move to shore rhythmically yet asynchronously unlike heart beats except when the muscle is failing or otherwise disturbed. Red of blood is bright or dark whether liquid or dry. Lines echo the corners and sides, move independently as the arm swings top to bottom and left right. Like some game of chance or a conversation made only with gestures, no words. Randomness gives way to choice, a sense of order like those waves with constantly shifting shoreline; it moves in, it moves out. It is ragged and predictably unpredictable, wavering as it does in waves.
Before leaving for the day, I wait for one final wave, and as its last thin push across the sand before it reverses course, I upend the bucket in an arcing swing. The fiddlers fly out in a semicircle, and as soon as they hot sand, they burrow quickly out of sight each trailing a v-shaped wake by the receding sea. Blue reflected off the water shifts to grainy gray until the next wave washes all trace of bucket ring and footprints, but all those colors, shapes, and forms are fixed on the surface of the once white canvas. The viewer may see nothing of the sea in the mix of color and texture that looks like some kind of map with no X to mark the treasure.
Posted on 7/16/2016 8:58:59 PM
By Donald Fox
Comment on this
Visual art relies on a number of cues to express images with clarity, strength, and believability. Contrast is foremost in my opinion, for without contrast there would be no differentiation between one thing and another. Various kinds of contrast are utilized by artists depending on their purpose. The most used forms are light-dark contrast, color contrast, rough and smooth texture, hard and soft, and a few others as part of some of these already mentioned. For example, color contrast can be discerned according to three characteristics: light and dark, warm and cool, and bright and dull. In the language of design, light and dark is known as value. The two extremes are white and black. White is the lightest or highest value, and black is the darkest or lowest value. In between are shades of gray. Any color can be compared to a value scale and is seen as lighter, the same, or darker in value than another color. When colors or tones are equivalent or nearly equivalent in value, it is difficult to tell them apart. In short, there is no contrast.
Warm and cool color contrast is referred to as color temperature. A simple example is that blue is generally a cool color and red is generally a warm color. In paintings and colored designs, warm colors appear to advance or come forward and cool colors tend to recede into the distance. In nature, think of distant mountains that are cool bluish or purplish in color, but as one approaches them the mountains begin to reveal the true colors from which they are made. Similarly, differences between brightness and dullness in colors, referred to as intensity, can have spatial suggestion within pictures. Bright colors will appear to come forward and dull colors to recede. Any of this is relative and depends on how an artist utilizes color in compositions, but it is contrast that makes objects stand out.
A clearly defined line can appear hard as opposed to a diffused line that would appear soft. Painters will pay close attention to edges of objects and make them appear hard or soft depending on whether they want an edge to recede like the curve of a shoulder (thus the edge will be soft, blurred, or seem to be lost) or like the edge of a box that would be clearly defined, hard, and suggest angularity. Artists most interested in realism will pay close attention to edges for these can suggest the way light falls on surfaces that may be angular (hard) or rounded (soft).
This is not the same as the difference between metal or cloth, for that has more to do with visual texture, another area where contrast (usually revealed by the play of light on the surface) is important. Texture is also revealed by contrast between rough and smooth. Again, this contrast is perceived by the eye according to the way light is reflected from a surface. Somewhat related to this is the contrast between reflective and non-reflective surfaces and between transparency and opacity. Sixteenth and seventeenth century Dutch still life paintings masterfully exhibit all these qualities.
Abstract painters will make just as much use of contrast as realist painters though their painterly goals may be different. With realism, there will always be contrast; otherwise, a viewer would not be able to distinguish objects or figures. A darkened room would not afford a good painterly subject for a realist. However, there have been examples of abstract paintings with a distinct lack of contrast within their boundaries. The painting will likely contrast with the surface against which it is displayed, but there is no content in the painting except for the monochrome color of the paint with which it is made. Compare Mark Rothko’s late paintings, the black paintings of Kasimir Malevich or Jasper Johns. These minimalist works are focused on something other than the traditional concerns of painters. Many will find these paintings boring and absent in value as art, for contrast has been entirely eliminated.
Posted on 7/15/2016 6:53:34 PM
By Donald Fox
Comment on this
An artist creates an image in a complex process partly in order to understand something about the image and his/her experience of it. Discovery is generally part of this process as is verification since both things known and unknown will be the outcome of the work. Likewise, the viewer or audience observes and discovers within the work and within him or herself those things known and unknown, discovered and verified, that are congruent with those of the artist or may be parallel to them.
The observer of nature may experience similar discovery or verification as this is the same process by which science has developed through centuries of observation, questioning, and active experimentation. Insight is central to any understanding, and this leads to growth of knowledge a long as it is remembered. Memory, then, is crucial for knowledge to be accumulated and retained.
We often hear reference to the innocence of a child. The child is ignorant by lacking both knowledge and experience. There is also diminished self-awareness in relation to place within the world. As a positive trait, that innocence means openness with a capacity to take in and learn without filtering or editing unless imposed by external forces. On the other hand, this can possibly lead to negative consequences since danger may not be perceived and injury result from lack of awareness of that danger. Growth will come from this experience if the survived danger is not overly devastating.
Severe trauma can be physically life-changing or emotionally scarring, but the latter may offer more prospect of recovery than the former. Both, however, may require adaptation for sufficient recovery.
Can art impact one is such a powerful way? Artists will likely say yes and point to an encounter with a particular piece or artist’s work that led to an enlightened moment or epiphany. The course of life thereafter was inextricably altered and tied to the arts. The same could be said for spiritual conversion though that is not likely to come from exposure to art. The outcome, however, devotion to art making or devotion to God or devotion to a disturbed state of mind (as in the case of severe trauma) all share similar characteristics.
We sometimes glibly say that experience is the best teacher, and like with so many other clichés, good judgment is brushed aside for the easy answer – such is the nature of clichéd thinking. For the individual in the midst of experience, there is no clichéd moment. That experience is real and visceral. There is either full commitment in the moment or there is denial. The former will eventually lead to some understanding, but the latter most likely will lead to false conclusions. Who is to say that one person’s experience is the equivalent of another’s? Perhaps this is why we so often seek acknowledgement and agreement – we lack certainty in our own judgment (or we become convinced of our perception and therefore seek to convince others). Art affords us the opportunity to convince or to be convinced by self and others as we choose, or not.
Posted on 7/14/2016 5:11:24 PM
By Donald Fox
Comment on this
Hidden Window
Notebooks and sketchbooks most often are places where artists and writers collect and explore thoughts and ideas. Concepts may be further developed in pieces intended for public consumption by being incorporated into full-blown works, both painting/sculpture and/or literature. Just as a painter may sketch a scene or other subject, a writer may describe a character or setting through careful, expressive use of words. Select details add life and believeability to drawing and writing.
The blank white space of the pad is a neutral void until animated by presence, but rather than be thought of as absence, it is the place of possibility. It can be transformed with a few words or lines or colors into a vibrant space that is at once contained while also opening to the interactive elements chosen by the artist. It could be the space of a room containing one or more figures. It could be a mountain landscape with seemingly endless vista. Though limits are imposed at the borders, the image suggests a world beyond, not bound by those borders. It may represent a mindscape, an abstract design whose characters are line, shape, value, and form – elements locked in a frozen dance of attraction and repulsion that can seem to vibrate with resonant tension. It can hold a collection of metaphors that range from the specific and finite to the general and infinite – all of the possibilities of life and death, growth and transformation, the ephemeral or the ethereal.
Even at this basic stage of bare bones structure, surface and sign, art is a powerful manifestation of human spirit in its most creative and expressive form. Idea and emotion come together in that simple space that once anointed is filled with sacred grace.
Posted on 7/13/2016 7:34:13 PM
By Donald Fox
Comment on this
Some published works go through several editions. Classic works are often re-published as parts of special collections. When I was in college and graduate school, many of my favorite books were either part of the Modern Library collections or the Penguin Classics collection. At one time I belonged to Book of the Month Club, and those titles were special publications under that imprint.
Usually, different editions don’t change the text, but the format, type style, binding, and so on will be different. The appearance of a book may change, so as an aesthetic object one book can differ from another, but as a work of art it is the written text that is of primary value. Translations are another matter as translators may change the text to fit their interpretation of the original writer’s style.
We might say that words live on the page, meaning the power of the writing, the poetry or the prose, is particularly stunning and lifelike in its depiction of the created world. Literary fiction really to life through the words in the mind of the reader. The work exists, then, in a kind of virtual reality. It won’t really matter whether a novel is leather bound or in large or small type. As it is read, the novel reveals its world to the perceptive reader regardless of the book’s physical presentation.
A painting requires wall space and good lighting, but these conditions could vary somewhat and the viewing status would be little changed. The painting is always the painting, and though the viewer interacts with it, the work is not altered. Several viewers could discuss the work while simultaneously viewing it. The work is there unchanged except. Perhaps, in understanding or interpretation on the part of the viewers.
Literature (or music, dance, or other performing arts) can also be discussed, but these discussions rely more on memory and the ability of the audience to verbalize thoughts and emotions that were experienced while exposed to the work. With visual art the viewer can simply look again to verify or expand on an initial response.
All works of art provide emotional and aesthetic experiences for audiences, and each type of art is unique in its appeal. Individuals will have preferences, of course, but can also amplify experience by relating one type of art to another. Artists frequently do this with allusions and references within their works. This in turn amplifies experience of the world as it is represented in art. Artists teach us how to perceive with more than the five senses as they appeal to and excite our imaginations.
Posted on 7/12/2016
By Donald Fox
Comment on this
Window Boxes
Throughout history humans have asked, what does it mean to be human? Philosophers, theologians, biologists, anthropologists, metaphysicians, poets, and artists have attempted to answer this perpetual question. One has to belong to the human race – that would seem obvious. A bright chimpanzee, a loyal dog, a snuggling cat, or some other animal exhibiting any human-like trait still cannot be human though its action may appear so. We could make a list of actions that might make us human, but we could also make a list of human actions that are more akin to those of beasts. It appears that being human includes aggression, selfishness, impropriety, and treachery just as it includes sacrifice, compassion, altruism, and love. Being human also comprises higher order expression like appreciation of beauty and the crafting of beautiful things. Under the heading of art, this creative expression includes contemplation of the beautiful and questioning that perception and what meaning that might have or that we might assign to it.
Part of what makes us human is the capacity for self-reflection. We recognize our shortcomings and those negative traits that have created the twists and snags of our history, and these things we try to explain, to justify, to rationalize, and for which we seek atonement and forgiveness. Art has been a major pathway for creating sense and order from the disorder that the fractured parts of us have manifested all too often. Spiritual understanding teaches us to be compassionate, to be loving, to practice forgiveness, and to embrace each other. This is borne out in our aesthetic thinking as well when that does not become too self-centered and then drifts toward avarice and greed. The most powerful art has always been that which is uplifting, transformative, and reflects that best part of humanity and human gesture that is of the highest order.
Posted on 7/11/2016
By Donald Fox
Comment on this
Today’s word for the day from Merriam-Webster is liminal, a word that many will not use by itself but who are familiar with the term subliminal, which basically means being below the threshold of perception. In the field of psychology there is argument whether such a thing as subliminal awareness exists. If something is below the perceptual threshold, doesn’t that mean it cannot be perceived, at least consciously – and here is the argument: If something is not perceived, can it influence behavior or thought? Of course, many advertisers use subliminal images or text with the intent of influencing customers to buy products or engage in certain behaviors beneficial to them (the advertisers). The controversy continues even after experiments show that subliminal advertising does not really work, but neither can subliminal experience be totally discounted. We seem to have an attraction for the subtle
Many artists have expressed interest in liminal experience by working with images that are right at or just under the perceptual threshold. Black paintings done by Kasimir Malevich, Ad Reinhardt, Mark Rothko, Frank Stella, or Brice Marden reduce imagery and contrast to nearly zero. The paintings are generally not about absence of something (color, image, design, etc.), but strongly suggest presence of a large, dark shape. One could even say these paintings celebrate blackness and darkness and the presence of a dominant square or rectangle.
Regardless of the intent of the individual artist in creating these works (variations of ideas about abstraction, minimalism, and a fundamentalist art), all stand in stark contrast to the Black Paintings of Francisco Goya that are angst-ridden, extremely negative, and often violent images (like Saturn Devouring His Son). Blackness here is more metaphorical and romantic relating to the intense subject matter that expresses a dark spirit and almost psychotic state of mind.
Why should there not be so many variations on blackness? In fact, why aren’t there more explorations of blackness and darkness in painting and drawing? Half of our experience of a day is with the absence of light or with minimal natural light. Aren’t there as many ways of experiencing darkness as there are to experience lightness? There is no more fear and danger in the night than in the day. Why should one have a mostly negative connotation and the other positive? Artists continue to ask these questions because they are relevant to our experience of the world around us. Perhaps if we were more aware of the liminal and paid more attention to that side of perception, we would be less inclined to categorize so readily in black and white. What might this do to our everyday experience?
Posted on 7/10/2016 4:27:34 PM
By Donald Fox
Comment on this
Three sketchbooks lean against a paper cutter that leans against metal flat files. The files contain works on paper that span at least thirty years of work, representational to abstract done on commercial and personally handmade papers. One 8-1/2” x 1” sketchbook is filled with abstract pencil and colored pencil drawings from my “Windows and Doors” series. A second sketchbook, 9” x 12,” contains no drawings yet. The third sketchbook, 11” x 14” Bristol, smooth-surfaced paper, contains five pencil drawings and ten blank sheets.
The drawing pads represent process and potential. The completed drawings span about a year and a half, but they are only a fraction of the drawings done during that time frame. Some drawings have become collaged elements incorporated into paintings. Obviously, the blank pages represent potential of future works, but the completed drawings also represent potential while standing as testaments of work achieved at specific points in time. They are physical records of creative statements. Their potential exists as possible models for future paintings or as elements that could be incorporated into future works as paintings or as combined paper works – several drawings assembled into a larger drawing.
Art is always about a moment in time, the moment of creation. That moment can become a collection of moments, and the art work is the statement of that collective progression. A work can also incorporate past work, bring it into the present, so to speak, and make it into something new. Art is also always transformative. Experience of the moment is transformed into creative statement. This includes both present experience and past experience in the form of memory or recorded experience in the form of preparatory work – drawings, sketches, preliminary drawing on canvas, and all the stages that lead up to the execution of the work. Art has always been about chronicling experience regardless of whatever other intentions may motivate artistic expression.
Posted on 7/9/2016 7:19:09 PM
By Donald Fox
Comment on this
Window Lights oil on linen 37" x 27"
As a child growing up in my hometown, I learned restriction and freedom of movement. Firstly, everything was dictated by my parents except for natural cycles and those inspired by civilization like school and holidays. We lived in a neighborhood adjacent to other neighborhoods that were engaged by subtle and not so subtle economic boundaries. My bicycle could carry me far beyond my neighborhood, and in a way the school I attended served as a hub for neighborhoods that extended many blocks beyond my on. Consequently, I knew lots of kids in adjacent areas and visiting them expanded the range of my travel via foot and bicycle. I created an imaginary map of those areas and much of my town (roughly 36,000 residents) when my brother and I began to ride the city bus to the YMCA downtown.
All of these sections and grids served as a pattern of regulated movement for various childhood activities. Additionally, the undeveloped woods that extended for miles north of my neighborhood beginning at the railroad tracks that marked its northern boundary afforded unrestricted roaming to inquisitive kids. Movement through nature is totally different from the planned angles and corners of residential communities. There is no one to say keep off my lawn or stay out of the flower beds.
Given, too, that my dad was an airline pilot, and I grew used to aerial views of towns that looked quite small compared to all of the undeveloped space below, my mental maps expanded and contracted according to my will. There is no doubt that all of this contributed to my thinking about the space of rectangles and other surfaces on which to draw, write, or paint. The typical left to right, top to bottom movement of writing is released by visual representation, but conformity to shape, proportion, and placement suggest a different order within the picture space. Inside the mind, however, many concepts can overlap, intersect, merge or diverge, or move in directions not limited to time and space. Perception of the innerscape is not limited like perception of the outer physical landscape.
Approaching the rectangle from this understanding liberates one’s thinking. Conformity to pre-set ideas or expectations is not an issue. Allusion to other experiences (outside the rectangle) can help the explorer of the space (or ultimate viewer) relate to unexpected percepts just as one might respond to a new perception (object or event). Even though the borders of the rectangle are clearly defined, they are only seen as a barrier if what is inside the boundary does not comfortably fit within that boundary. A map, for example, pictures a given space as though in aerial view to illustrate comparative locations, and movement across that space could proceed any direction. In real space that movement would be restricted since any number of things would get in the way unless literally taking the bird’s path.
For the artist, specific allusion to shapes that typically are rectilinear like windows or doors serve as a metaphorical and physical echo of top, bottom, and sides of the container that becomes the art. These shapes have frequently been compositional devices used by artists as diverse as Caravaggio, Rembrandt, or Bonnard. They all created realistic images that also served metaphorically. Abstract artists often make the art itself the metaphor for it is a window like no other into the creative consciousness of the aesthetic mind. My latest painting is a visual poem that invites the viewer to explore the lighted window of the canvas. Even following the discipline of the current series, there are infinite ways to move within the rectangle. I have barely begun that journey.
Posted on 7/8/2016
By Donald Fox
Comment on this
Every day most of us make numerous decisions and take various actions. We tend to focus on specific activities to which we have given priority, moving the rest to the background until such time that it or they – the other stuff, that is – in turn becomes priority or at the least worthy of attention. We accept this as normal and justify our choices to others when challenged or to ourselves when in doubt. Experts encourage us to make lists, create calendars, take care of the big rocks first, and on and on. Still, we do what we do and feel good about that or not.
Every day that I go into the studio I have this sense of urgency about creating, and this sense is accompanied by curiosity about what will happen. Even when I know that I will be doing something specific like framing pictures, making drawings, working on an unfinished painting, pursuing an idea that has been gestating, or open-mindedly embracing whatever transpires, there is always the possibility of the unexpected. This can be good or it can be less than good.
These days typically are not life and death struggles. I am not in a war zone facing a relentless enemy, or am I? Last night after leaving school late I had just finished closing out a class term. Finals had been graded and grades submitted. I looked forward to a few days off and time spent in the studio. On the news (BBC news that I listen to on NPR because I like to get a world perspective rather than solely a Texas one) I heard about the shootings in Dallas. The emotional gut response of “Oh, no, not again,” was followed by visions of officers beginning their day by leaving families and heading off to work with thoughts of the coming weekend and what to do with the kids or where to take the wife for dinner. Normal thoughts, everyday thoughts, thoughts that assume continuity and hinge on expectation, for these are the day to day and week to week activities of life. Isn’t this what we do? At some level, though, isn’t there a sense of life and death struggle, somewhere deep down the awareness of mortality and the inevitability of change, especially change that is unwelcome?
We have an expression that sometimes we use when there seem to be no other answers – “Well, you never know…” This often trails off elliptically because the possibilities are so overwhelming and we don’t know what else to say. Let’s just set this elephant aside and go on with what is at hand. We may experience grief, anger, confusion, guilt, blame, or a dozen other emotions that temporarily purge our feelings but don’t resolve the issues. We can say that all you need is love while knowing that what we feel is far more complex. The mystery is deep and abiding. And so we create. Out of that life experience in whatever form it manifests, we create. We include the mystery and the awe; we include the confusion and the pain. We create even when some choose to destroy, and art attests to this transformative power.
Posted on 7/7/2016
By Donald Fox
Comment on this
In the school where I teach there are numerous posters with motivational sayings on classroom walls. Many educational websites have posters like these for sale. Some of them are general and some specific to events and commemorative dates – general ones about teamwork or the importance of reading; specific ones about National Poetry Month or Independence Day. One that I can currently see is a quote from the writer Anatole France that says “To accomplish great things, we must not only act, but also dream; not only plan, but also believe.” I find this interesting for two reasons. One, it was written by a literary artist, and two, because it seems to reverse what many motivational gurus would say. They recognize that many of us do have dreams, but what stops those dreams from manifesting is that people fail to take appropriate action. Chief behind this failure is fear – fear of consequences, fear of failure, fear of not being good enough, and other similar kinds of fears. Secondly, many of us believe in our dreams, but we have no plan for how to make the dreams a reality.
The poster shows a close-up of an American bald eagle that seems to be staring directly at the camera like a proud, determined, confident, and possibly even ruthless person. The set of the bird’s eyes makes it look angry or at least defiant. The eagle, of course, is a symbol of America, but it is also a raptor, a bird of prey, which some might find ironic as representative of the world’s largest democracy and a symbol of leadership.
Maybe as artists we have specific dreams and beliefs about our work. Certainly we believe in what we do. The dreams will vary from artist to artist just as they will from person to person. What seems important to me is that I keep working no matter what circumstance may look like in the moment or even over time. Dreaming about art is fantasy, but making art is reality and the act of a truly creative person. Through the creation of the art, the dream, whatever it may be, will create itself. It is the art that comes from the spirit of the individual, and that expression is powerful and lasting. Make the art the dream and not dream about making art.
Posted on 7/6/2016
By Donald Fox
4 Comments
One of my regular reads is The Writer’s Almanac, a daily email newsletter that always contains interesting tidbits about writing and art along with enjoyable poems. Yesterday’s newsletter mentioned author Hilary Mantel who won the Booker Prize (arguably Great Britain’s answer to the Nobel Prize) in 2009 for the novel Wolf Hall, and won the prize again for a sequel in 2012 Bring Up the Bodies. Dame Mantel said that "The most frequent question writers are asked is some variant on, 'Do you write every day, or do you just wait for inspiration to strike?' I want to snarl, 'Of course I write every day, what do you think I am, some kind of hobbyist?' But I understand the question is really about the central mystery - what is inspiration? Eternal vigilance, in my opinion. Being on the watch for your material, day or night, asleep or awake."
The first part of this about the seriousness of creative expression – writing every day – is not often understood by the larger public, I suppose because so many artists don’t have a regular job from 9 to 5 or whenever. The second part about inspiration is equally engaging since it is a subject that connects with every artist. The serious artist is not only on the lookout for inspiration, but also he or she is working to create inspiration rather than waiting for it to happen or waiting to stumble across it. Artistic creativity is a discipline not unlike that of the athlete who works regularly to keep physically in shape and also to improve physical skills. In addition, the athlete studies the game to prepare mentally for the challenges of quick and flexible thinking.
Creative artists, even those like writers or painters who work alone in study or studio, are performing artists though what they do, unlike the thespian or dancer or musician, is not done directly in front of a crowd. Nonetheless, their solo performance results in the novel or painting or other art form that performs again and again for whatever audience chooses to explore its richness. Those of us who appreciate the performer will likely remember circumstances surrounding a particularly impressive performance. It makes a deep and lasting impression. Likewise, a powerful novel or painting often is associated with the time or place where it was first encountered. These works, however, can become more than memories for they can easily be re-experienced as often as the audience chooses. This is an important part of the artistic process, the appreciation phase, where the viewing, listening, experiencing audience makes the art come to life again and again.
The ignorant or the awestruck may ask impertinent or simplistic questions of artists because they haven’t taken the time to learn or understand what the artist does. This is laxity on their part and something that, rightfully, may annoy the artist. When possible, though, the artist might choose to educate his or her audience for it is the audience, after all, who becomes the main beneficiary of all that creative work.
Posted on 7/5/2016
By Donald Fox
Comment on this
Sometimes a painting progresses like a story made up in the moment. The narrative unfolds sentence after sentence like steps on a path, and the teller of the tale knows only that the path leads somewhere. The final destination is yet to be discovered, but one step does lead to another, and the trail behind leaves clues as to who the traveler might be based on decisions and actions and the marks those have made. Likewise the painter’s strokes build the path and lay the ground that accumulates more in certain areas. Texture, direction, color, and shape are all players in this visual narrative. The painted surface can resemble rough terrain like a rocky field or heavy foliage; at other times it is silky smooth or placid like a calm body of water. With texture and gesture the painterly evidence is clear and can be felt if not directly read by the viewer. The painting becomes something of an archaeological artifact whose meaning lies waiting to be unearthed and deciphered by the audience at hand.
Such is the case with a current painting that has developed over the past few days. It has reached a temporary stopping point. There won’t be time until the weekend to complete it, but between now and then, I will be able to study its image photographically. Unlike film photography, however, digital images can be zeroed in on and carefully studied. Nuance of both color and texture are revealed as long as the photograph is clearly focused and well lighted. I look for echoes of color and repetitions of textures that can add visual interest like rhythm and rhyme in poetry.
Curiosity and excitement are emotions that keep the energy moving as the unknown becomes known with each possible imagined intervention. But I also know as the composer that any new addition can lead to discoveries and directions unforeseen. This stage is, after all, speculative at best. The real development will occur in the studio before the painting itself, and that is something to look forward to.
Posted on 7/4/2016 4:53:28 PM
By Donald Fox
Comment on this
Today is the Fourth of July, celebrated in America as Independence Day when the thirteen original colonies declared their independence from England. Like many aspects of history, there is some arbitrariness and potential inaccuracy surrounding this date since the document was actually passed by the Second Continental Congress on July 2nd and may not have been officially signed until several weeks later. Nonetheless, July 4th is the celebrated date that stands historically and has become part of American mythology.
Americans can sometimes be lax about their heritage and history – slavery, treatment of Native Americans, rights of the privileged and sometimes lack of rights for the poor, power of the purse strings, covert operations, immigration policies, political corruption – these are but a few areas where misinformation abounds. We are blessed in many ways, but it is important to recognize where we have erred as much as where we have succeeded. Otherwise the guiding principles have no real meaning regardless of the numbers who believed they were sacrificing to uphold those principles.
Governance has never been easy. There have always been dissenters, and hopefully there always will be, for without them a democracy becomes an autocracy or worse. We should take time to celebrate the freedom that we have and remember that one of the greatest freedoms is the right to tell the truth even when that truth is uncomfortable or embarrassing. What has made our country strong for generations is that we have amended where necessary the “more perfect union,” which was not initially and has not been since by any means perfect. We must also recognize that a belief in freedom also means a belief in tolerance, for not everyone’s idea of freedom is the same.
There is an overarching American culture, but that culture is made up of many sub-cultures that have contributed to the larger fabric. There is no singular American religion. There is no singular American race. We are, however, a people united by a Constitution, a system of laws, and beliefs in basic human rights and responsibilities (and one does not exist without the other). Independence Day is an appropriate time to reflect on our history and our legacy and to tell the truth about who we are rather than only mouth simplistic slogans and patriotic platitudes.
Posted on 7/3/2016 7:29:56 PM
By Donald Fox
Comment on this
Something does not manifest from nothing. In nature, the right combination of chemical components must be present for there to be life. This is why astronomers who may be looking for signs of extraterrestrial life always look for the presence of water, which is necessary for carbon-based life forms as we are familiar with to exist. An artist may begin with a blank canvas or blank piece of paper, but that surface is simply the ground on which a painting or drawing will manifest. There has to be some medium for marks and shapes to be made and either an action or idea to set the image in motion. It is the inspiration, the urge to create, that must precede these other things. That may be in the form of an idea or simply a feeling to do. Once a mark is placed, the seed of art has been sown. The artist will cause that seed to grow by whatever means he or she chooses, but something will usually result once the process is begun.
The analogy of natural growth to art making is limited, however, for the art process is a synthetic one that does not always follow the same series of steps except in the most basic of ways. We can predict successful natural growth and safeguard it with attention to specific conditions. Art making is far more varied, subject to interruptions that can include an artist’s change of heart or change of mind. The natural process is rarely aborted unless unforeseen circumstances develop.
Still, it may be useful to consider art making as a kind of natural process particularly for the artist to take necessary steps to nurture his or her creative expression in whatever ways are important to that artist. The self-aware individual knows this and will do what is necessary to ensure that creativity is properly cared for and allowed to flourish regardless of whatever obstacles may arise.
Posted on 7/2/2016 2:07:59 PM
By Donald Fox
Comment on this
Inside can have multiple meanings including being contained within something. It can also mean being privy to certain information like having the inside dope or getting an inside scoop or being on the inside track. One could simply be inside looking out or have affiliation with a special group – “we have a man on the inside” as we might hear in a detective story or a spy novel. The inside person would have knowledge of two worlds simultaneously, and, of course, there is the element of danger, the possibility of being exposed. Add to that the idea of a window, and we can now look into something or see out of something – the location is ambiguous unless clarified. Understanding changes according to which meaning is inferred. Personal association can further complicate meaning when there is a positive spin as in knowing something special or a negative take as in feeling claustrophobic from a past experience of being trapped in an enclosed space.
Language also tends to broaden experience and understanding when we look at definitions, these sometimes being flexible and subject to change as is the case when new applications are given to base knowledge. For example, inside information can suggest a position of power or confidence. Someone with inside knowledge could be more determined or could be seen as having special advantage. These days we often think in terms of sports metaphors like inside in baseball means a pitch is close to the batter or in basketball inside is close to or under the basket. Either could be advantageous positions.
Art is ideally suited for metaphor since it is a symbolic activity, and we as audience expect and look for multiple meanings. Whether metaphor is the result of language or language is the result of minds that evolved to deal with subtlety and nuance as a survival edge is difficult to say (could there have been metaphors before there was language?). That we do think metaphorically and symbolically is important to all of our means of communication. Creative expression through art has certainly heightened our perceptual abilities just as math and science have exercised and strengthened our reasoning powers.
Posted on 7/1/2016 7:30:55 PM
By Donald Fox
Comment on this
I grew up along the southeast coastal area of North Carolina, an area known for its long leaf pine trees but also lots of oaks and other deciduous trees. Bird species included many varieties of shore birds as well as the state bird, the cardinal, and other songbirds, the most melodic of which has to be the mockingbird (and those we know we shouldn’t kill). There are many similarities of flora and fauna in southeast Texas where I’ve lived for nearly forty years. I’ve also had opportunities to travel and to compare the mountainous regions of the east coast with those of west central and western states. The latter is far more rugged and dramatic, but that is because the Appalachian chain of mountains is far older and more worn down from the ravages of time.
One aspect of most any landscape that is fascinating and intriguing is the adaptability of the creatures that inhabit it. From the bright plumage of male birds that enables them to attract mates to ingenious camouflage of snakes and certain animals that enable them to remain hidden, we find an incredible array of shapes, forms, and colors, all of which appeal to the artistic eye (or that of any nature lover). I am also intrigued by the ways animals navigate and move through their respective landscapes.
How is it exactly that a bird can fly full speed through dense foliage and branches and barely ruffle a feather? How can a full grown deer race down a thickly treed mountainside and disappear within a few seconds without crashing headlong into one or more of those trees that are not moving away from the deer? Some extra sense beyond that of humans enables these animals to move with grace and elegance through their landscape. We can say that they are one with their environment.
I think of those creatures sometimes as I lay down lines on paper or strokes on a canvas and begin to build a collection of marks that suggest substance or space, form or value or color. The lines that I may use create boundaries that either enclose or exclude and actually do both simultaneously. Artists often use the terms positive shape and negative space in discussing how an image is revealed on a flat surface or understood as existing in space. In our uniquely human way, we are as adept at maneuvering among the conceptual, the perceived, and the realized as animals move through their inhabited space. We think, plan, make judgments, and choose. We imagine and create and recast our world with symbol and metaphor. We maneuver through present observation, memory, and projected plans called goals to create our own thick forest where we have learned to see both part and whole as inseparable partners joined by the experience of existence.
Through our art we celebrate nature just as we reinforce our part as natural beings. We become the thinking side of nature, record its and our motion, give voice to its irascible energy, and interpret its moods and colors. We reveal nature to herself and our nature to ourselves
