Politics, the Cosmos, Easter and Art

I first posted this to one "LeeFromVA," on the Huffington Post article What Barack Obama Could Not (and Should Not) Say, by Sam Harris. I repost it here:


Don't know whether you'll see this, but here goes anyway. "God impregnates some man's virgin wife so that the child can be viciously killed and therefore allow people into heaven?" etc. Yes, it's an amazingly difficult story to accept. "Even if it were true." "You'd think an all powerful God could find an easier way." Well, there is another narrative: that the universe began in a singularity, going from "nothing" to something in the blink of an eye. Fast forward, after the creation of other elements out of the combustion of hydrogen and helium, one finds planets spinning around stars in elegant elliptical orbits. "Life" (whatever that is) appears. Soon (a bunch of millions of years later) these earlier life forms have changed and changed until "primates" appear, some of whom develop so far as to be able to communicate with each other on Huff Po! One might call that "God's" (god in quotes) plan for whatever.
I find this alternate view to be a bit of a stretch too. But there it is. Primates with typewriters!
The problem of whether God exists or not, and whether a God who exists loves us or not, is an exceedingly complex question -- not the least when it concerns one personally. Does God care what happens to me?
The Bible -- in its historical accounts, its poetry, its metaphors, symbolism, parables, riddles, and other narrative devices -- asserts that God does exist and that God does "care." But do not suppose that it's a simplistic message. To the credit of the many Biblical authors, whoever they were, they deal head on with the apparent injustice of God. Why do innocent people suffer? Book of Job. Psalms. Proverbs.
I think the problem is when people try to turn complex ideas into something that fits a bumper sticker. Added to this problem is their tendency (you know who you are!) to irritate and annoy their fellows by endlessly repeating their simplistic notions.
God does work in mysterious ways (and I'll include modern physics as being among the mysteries) but I do sense (in my own life) God's presence and love. "We're not supposed to understand...."
I don't think we can understand is the point. Kind of like I cannot understand calculus but I'm willing to accept that it's probably true. Are we not supposed to question? Well, plenty of stories in the Bible are about people questioning. Genesis story of Abraham. God doesn't seem to mind the questions at all.
My question: does other peoples' misinterpretation of the Bible pose an obstacle to my faith? I don't think it should. I'm going to keep trying to understand the life I see around me. I think that such curiosity is a wonderful thing. I think it makes life an adventure. I hope I've convinced you of something similar. God is not giving us a school room test. No. Life is the real deal. And here it is.
A wonderful and mysterious thing. Best wishes to you.
We live in such amazing times. Where are the artists to paint the Cosmos now? When it has become so rich, complex and evocative? Where are the artists who might combine modern physics with spiritual understanding?

[illustrations: Giovanni di Paulo, Creation of the Earth and Expulsion from Paradise; Hieronymus Bosch, Garden of Earthly Delights (exterior panels)]

Suzanne Koch

This is an artist that I know people are unaware of -- a wonderful still life painter, Suzanne Koch. I own some of her earlier works. Here's one that I don't own.
Suzanne's painterly way of seeing and painting is closer to the way I've tended to approach things, but she captures the light falling over these objects here, in this painting, in such a summary and ephemeral way. It is as though the light just falls on them and she sees and records it instantly before it's passing.
It's an amazing picture. Hope that its loveliness is evident in this reproduction.

Diane Tessler

I like to compare paintings and put kindred spirits together. A friend of mine who's a curator told me recently that I should assemble my own exhibits. I'll let this be my notice to the world that I'm available to organize exhibits. MOMA, are you listening?
Anyway, here's another realist still life painter. Do not know if she and these other realist painter are aware of each other. Tessler is a Washington, DC, painter. I've known about her painting for years, but this foray into complex still life is new to me (though perhaps not to her -- I had lost track of her for quite a while).
So, this can be another in my imaginary exhibit of contemporary painting. I cannot find a link to Tessler's paintings, but to learn more one can search at the Virginia Art Leaague School.

Donna Phipps Stout

Found an artist whose still life paintings I really like: Donna Phipps Stout who is represented by the Jerald Melberg Gallery in Charlotte, NC.
I'm not trying to pit one painting style against another, I do think that Stout's arrangements of flowers and objects demonstrate a much broader and freer approach to drawing and form than does Dana Levin's. Saying that, I'll be the first to champion the beauty of Levin's painting. But Stout bites off more to chew than does Levin (or classical realists generally). She throws herself headlong into a confusion of light and dark, texture and color, and finds a wonderful unity within it. And she portrays the objects with a philosophic sense of beauty, stillness and time.
There's a larger vision available to the artist who is not locked into a formula for seeing and knowing a thing.
That said (I'm feeling guilty here) if Ms. Levin is wearing a straight-jacket, let's give her credit for its being a very beautiful one.
[Pictured above Spring Mementos, 60 x 48, 1997]

Weird Scrupples

Strange things bother me. I learned about this artist on the net, Dana Levin, who describes herself as a "classical realist." I've encountered a bunch of similar artists over the years and I always have a problem with them. The painting illustrated here is lovely. There's no denying.
What bothers me is the insistence on reestablishing a very narrow 19th century form of art pedagogy and pretending that it's the center of the universe. What motivates these artists? While the flowers pictured here is lovely,not all her paintings are as strong as these flowers, though most are quite good. But she has eliminated innumerable areas of visual experience through her narrow approach. (You have to read about her procedures to understand the point.)
What is so magical about French 19th century academicism? My goodness, it directs one away from any consideration of Pierre Bonnard, the Rohan Master, Jean Fouquet, Joan Mitchell, or Edgas Degas (just to name a few). What gives?
It strikes me as a deep insecurity. Ms. Levin's form of instruction is so fastidious, as though just drawing a stray line would be the end of the world! But in fact one gets a better, more firm, more flexible sense of draughtsmanship by using other means.
Look at something, put the line where you think it should go. A very simple manner of looking and drawing is much preferable to the machinations that she teaches her students to use.
Don't know why this bothers me (it's a free country), it's just that you cannot paint some of the most amazing things using these means. Botticelli, I guarantee you, did nothing remotedly like this when he painted Primavera.

For more on decoration as a form of invention in art, click here.

Searching for Claude Parsons

I was copying a picture by Claude Parsons from his book How to Draw and Paint Flowers. I'm not sure who Claude Parsons is. I was given this book years ago when I quit my job to paint full time. My employer was concerned that I know how to paint. Actually, I was already pretty well acquainted with the brushes and the easel!
But on a lark, I decided to copy Claude's very conventional still life, one that is supposedly designed to teach one how to paint. I was doing this in the spirit of seeing how much of my knowledge and personality would creep into my "copy."
Van Gogh made copies after Bargue, as well as after more important artists like Delacroix and Millet. He transformed his copies into "Van Goghs." Can I copy this conventional painting and make it into something that's "mine"?
Will post a photo of it when it's done.
Why did I start copying this Claude Parsons? A walk back down memory lane. When I was a kid, I had done things like this, and I think young artists often get their first idea about painting from these humble and unsophisticated sources. I knew a wonderful, self-taught artist who got his start watching Bob Ross!

Gerardo Pita, another instance

Find out more about him here.

Patton Wilson et al

I just learned about this guy 30 seconds ago. Amazing thing, the internet. Obviously, I was not looking for him or I would have been acquainted with his paintings prior to 30 -- oops -- now 40 seconds ago.
Actually, I was looking up "Claude Parsons," the author of How to Draw and Paint Flowers. Don't know what Mr. Wilson's connection to Claude Parsons is though. More on that later.
Anyway, seeing this painting in reproduction, I'd have to say it looks quite lovely. Sometimes paintings that look great in a photograph are disappointing when one encounters the actual object. But I'm guessing this looks very fine when seen face to face.
What strikes me as odd is that there's a whole school of people who paint like this -- who not only do modern trompe l'oeil, but who do it in this way, straight down to the very staged, variegated coloristic, whimsical arrangement of things. Yet you never see them.
I have yet to see an exhibit of works of this type. Somebody somewhere must be mounting exhibits of them, but they are far and few. Art of this type is larged boycotted by the "art world." And it's unfortunate. I don't paint in this manner myself so I'm not advocating for it. It's just unfortunate (and silly too) that "art" is defined so narrowly nowadays.
You can see more of Patton Wilson here.

Open letter to the editor of Art Lies

Jennifer Bartlett, Democrat

moderationsmuse, Republican

Jean duc de Berry, affiliation unknown


Dear Art Lies editor:

"I don't think the following statement will come as too much of a shock to the ARTLIES readership: most artists are not Republicans," wrote Kelly Klassmeyer in Issue 44. I only just now learned about your publication when I "Googled" that question myself. Who are the Republican artists? Well, I write so that you need no longer be in the dark about artists and political affiliation. Please report to Kelly Klassmeyer, that indeed some artists are Republicans. I am. I voted for Bush. Have never regretted it. Indeed, whenever I see Al Gore making another self-aggrandising, grand self-serving gesture to "save the planet," (where was he when the dinosaurs needed him?) I am more than ever glad at the decision I made. I did not vote so much for Bush as against Gore, and later Kerry, but the very fact that the Democrats selected these very problematic candidates points toward a deep dis-function on the Dem side.
Anyway, why doesn't one hear more about Republican artists? I'll tell you why. Intimidation. The self-selected "hip" people have declared, just as your publication does, that artists are not Republicans. To announce the contrary causes a person more trouble than it's worth. And thus, artists like me who find themselves nearer the Republican side of the equation than to the Democrat are content to take our views to the voting booth. (The only place where it really matters, after all.)

I am constantly surprised at how readily various artists jump at the chance to be "progressive." But, stereotypes aside, many artists are really quite timid people who find not just their political views but their artistic ones from the "in" crowd. The genuine artist, the one dedicated to creating an image somehow connected to truth, one who is interested in exploring the visual world, searching for real ideas and not cliches, such a person is really quite rare. A thoughtful person might be a Democrat or a Republican, but genuine people makes these choices based upon authentic conviction and not based upon what the hip crowd dictates.

My own views are ones I'd characterize as moderate, hence my pseudonym. I lean toward the Republican party in its support for life (I will never understand the cruelty of the abortion lobby). I am a proponent of individual liberty, of local government, of limited government, of self-reliance and self-esteem. Above all things, I'm in favor of freedom, something that I see Republicans defending more than Democrats.

The Democratic party has become a retro-coalition of competing and mutually hostile interest groups, of self-hypnotized "victims." Klassmeyer appeals to the stereotype of the "rich" Republican, but actually a recent survey showed what simple observation also reveals -- that actually above average income groups tend to vote Democratic. The two "coasts" tend to vote Democratic, and they are also the most expensive regions in which to live. "Rich" is also a label that is conveniently never applied to people like actor George Clooney, Senator Ted Kennedy or Speaker Pelosi -- all of whom are of course millionaires.

Well, anyway, I just thought someone real ought to write to let you know that Republican artists exist, though I'm probably not as much a Republican as your stereotypical artist is a Democrat, because I am not particularly ideological, being a firm believer that the truth is a nuanced thing that ideologues are not likely to find.

I think your article is intimidating so don't expect to hear many other Republican artists chiming in. However, you might benefit from asking yourselves some soul searching questions such as "why has "art" become this elitist thing that is unrelated to the lives of ordinary people?" Indeed, why isn't "life" of interest to "artists" anymore? Why is everything so exaggerated, so mean-spirited, so "hip," so trendy? Isn't it the "environmentally sensitive" Democratic party that defines and defends the "art" of putting a dead shark into a tank of formaldehye? The really great artists of the past were singularities. In all honesty, who is a "great" artist today?

Do we know or care what were the political views of Vermeer, or Titian, or Winslow Homer, or Jean Fouquet, or Adam Elsheimer or Matisse? Their politics are not relevant to the enduring and humane art they created, and this is still true of artists today. The really great artists of the present (whoever they are) are making images that speak to people in genuine ways. It used to be believed that politics diminished this higher view of life. It's a viewpoint that needs a comeback. Maybe then we'll have real artists making real art again, and we won't ask or care how they voted.

Best wishes,

moderationsmuse (pseudonym of an artist living on the East Coast)

The art lies article I referenced can be found here.

For more information about Jennifer Bartlett, a Democrat (the artist did a smallish, personal fundraiser for Al Gore in the 2000 race), click here.

Longing for Picasso?

[Detail of Picasso's drawing of Ruth Dangler, NGA, Washington DC]

WilliePilgrim makes me feel guilty. (It's of course not your fault Willie.) I seem to be always the party pooper here. But I read your column regularly now because you're a nice young girl and because I'm an artist too.

I have seen so many clones of these artist that I am rather biased against them at this juncture in my life. I will admit that the water in "Off the Gaspe" has some interesting qualities. But on balance I find all these photo imitating artists a bit pointless. There's so little understanding of what drawing is, for instance, how it is utterly different from what a photograph does.

A drawing is more like a notation that evokes or describes a visual "thought." And thoughts are such funny things. A thought can be very elaborate, very specific or "filled out." Or it can be most vague and ineluctable. A great artist can make a drawing that is like a sigh ("ahh...") or a shrug or like a bright glance or a keen message. This artist strikes me as being unaware of all that. He is so achingly "modern" wearing it like a Boy Scout merit badge. But he's hardly alone. Ninety percent of "artists" are just like this.

Sigh. One can think that Picasso was a brat. But then modern art makes one almost long for Picasso, a true draughtsman!

Theses comments are in reference to Kimberly Brooks review of the photographic drawings of Ethan Murrow found here at the Huffington Post.

And one of my favorite contemporary "table top" still lifes

The painting is by Ignacio Iturria.

My favorite of my own still lifes

And this guy's art and his story is really neat

You can see his paintings here. The artist is too modest. Looking over his site, I had trouble finding his name (it must be there somewhere). His first name is Paul.

And another

by Malaysian artist Latif Maulan, whose work can be seen here.

Here's another

The artist Meredith Ramsbotham's other paintings can be seen here.

Contemporary Still life

I found this image of tea cups painted by Lisa Hirst, a Canadian painter living in France, and compare it with a painting of a honey jar that I've been working on lately. Ms. Hirst's paintings can be seen here.
It's fun to make a comparison like this, something that would have been impossible before the internet. Needless to say, lots of artists who are unaware of each other's paintings, are interested in traditional genres and in careful, thoughtful observation of ordinary life.

Recapturing the sensibility of painting

Back sometime in 1965 painter Andrew Wyeth was interviewed by Richard Meryman, an interview that was first published in Life magazine (May 14, 1965) and later reprinted in an exhibition catalog [The Art of Andrew Wyeth, ed. Wanda M. Corn]. In that interview, Wyeth is quoted making this prescient remark: "I came at the right moment in American art. I was alone. Now there are a lot of realists coming along -- I think partly because they've seen my success, to be perfectly honest -- but I think today the abstractionists are the conservatives and I'm the modernist." He elaborates upon the conservatism of modern art this way: "Everything is screaming with exaggeration today. I think artists today are caricaturing the truth, and life to me is more serious than that .... The abstractionists obliterate the object because it's a way of escaping perfunctory picturesquesness."
His remarks are prescient in their recognition of the growing exaggeration characteristic of big-ticket, acclaimed, art-world art and its effect upon its audience -- of the ways that its cognicenti gradually lose their sensitivity to nuance, order and texture of more comtemplative forms of art like realism. Realism did get a boost from Wyeth's success also, as he noted, though this phenomenon is less obvious to the casual gallery goer. Certain the museums have stuck close to the conservatism of abstraction and the isms that followed it. You do not see realist paintings in contemporary museums unless they come with the other requisites of modern art, such as violence, banality, shock value, politics or various other forms of "exaggeration." But many kinds of realist painting have been practiced during the decades since World War II, and various kinds of non-realist, painterly representational painting (such as Richard Diebenkorn's) also.
Why would anybody want to escape from "perfunctory picturesquesness"? Because to really explore the visual world in a serious way hasn't got anything to do with the obvertly "pretty." Nontheless, painting a picture that is both "pretty" and real -- well, perhaps that's the biggest challenge of all. Wyeth wasn't against the picturesque, he just wanted something more than that as have innumerable artists before him. But it is just this fact that painting "real life" is very difficult, to escape from convention and to just paint, takes skill and insight. Some artists took the easy way by eliminating subject matter from the mix, but then it's the "abstraction" itself that becomes picturesque and pretty.
Real painting is difficult, but it's worth pursuing anyway. Even failing at the real thing has its benefits for it really is nobel to aim at a nobel goal.
[top: Andrew Wyeth's "Pageboy" republished from http://www.gbcnv.edu/~techdesk/AngelaConrad/Helga.html]

Modern Painting

There's a magazine by that name. The first time I saw it on a magazine rack, I had this brief "wow" moment. Well, it was a very brief "wow" moment. Perhaps a nanosecond in duration. Maybe not that long. For I opened the magazine and quickly surmised that "painting" was of little interest to the publishers. Why they call the mag Modern Painting is anybody's guess, unless they mean to be ironic.
So, lately it occurs to me that I called this blog "about art," and granted it does foray into a wide range of things even in just these few posts so far. But I suppose it will become quickly evident that even when I'm not talking about painting, I don't stray from the subject for very long. For me painting is art. Even drawing, for me, ultimately serves the ends of painting.
I don't think there's many publications or critics (or perhaps even painters) who think of art as narrowly as I do in this respect. Since the advent of "painting is dead" artists are reluctant to be identified with the alledgedly moribund form even when they are painters themselves. They are a little apologetic. I'm not.
I'm declaring that painting is "IT." Sure, there've been great sculptors -- Michelangelo, Bernini, Rodin, to name a few -- but real art has long found its home with the great, painted flat image. I'm proudly proclaiming that painting is still alive and well. Imaginations have sometimes died or nearly died or have sat there comatose. But I don't put anybody's failure of imagination at Painting's doorstep. It's a very difficult thing to become a great painter.
Take the 17th century, for instance. Who is really big? Rubens, Rembrandt, Vermeer, Velasquez. Some want to include Van Dyck, but one always does so with a bit of hesitance. Even Degas stuttered a little when the question of Van Dyke's status came up ....
But, my God, Van Dyck! Who can even paint Van Dyck's toenails today?
So, you see my point? Painting is not dead. It's artists that we lack. But painting is just fine, and merely awaits the arrival of somebody with worthy ideas, someone who knows how to see.

Not the only Muse out there

I found this Muse while looking for the original of Degas's Woman Brushing her Hair. If you want to see life from the model's point of view, check it out.

Degas himself

Degas

When I first realized I wanted to be an artist, it was Degas's drawings that particularly attracted me. I have been looking back at Degas's work lately, rediscovering my love for the dynamism of his images -- noticing things in them I'd not noticed before even after very long acquaintance! It has spurred me to draw a lot. I also find myself wanting to deal with the figure, portraying people in ordinary settings as Degas did and searching out the formal beauties of that.
Years ago I did this copy after Degas of the Woman brushing her hair. Now I am looking at his work again and finding new energy for my own. One thing Degas teaches you is the vitality that comes of freedom. Whatever your eyes notice is fair game.

Kimberly Brooks's painting "Portrait of Liz"

I just found this wonderful portrait by Kimberly Brooks at the artist's website. Several or possible all of the images are based upon photography: as the artist explains, "During my last show, "Mom's Friends," about my mother and her friends in the 70s, I foraged through old family albums and found page after delicious page of distorted photos that to me signified nothing less than the new born freedom of a generation redefining itself."
I feel some connection to this topic myself, which Brooks addresses in an interview with photographer Stefanie Schneider. Like these artists, I've also based several of my paintings on old photographs, turning them into reveries of a different sort. The photos I used go back a little farther than Brooks. Some are from the 1940s and one noteable photograph goes back to 1957.


Meanwhile, Brooks's Portrait of Liz has a wonderful angularity about it that is intriguing both formally and psychologically. The tilt of the sitter's head seems to engage us with energy and pique.