Saturday 28 January 2006

DRAWING WITH YOUR BRAINS

On days when I have had cranky flakes for breakfast, faithful readers can find me here grumbling about the bleak state of drawing today.

In the words of Roberta Smith, "drawings are a direct extension of an artist's signature and very nervous system." The humble act of making a line with sensitivity and grace is one of the defining acts of humanity; it's the first thing our ancestors did when they evolved from Neanderthals to modern Cromagnons. So what are we to conclude from the state of drawing today? Artists such as Art Spiegelman and Chris Ware seem to be the current darlings of the illustration community, but largely because of the content of their message. Let's face it-- their drawing is just plain lame.












Chris Ware





















Art Spiegelman

In fact, a great many of the artists who helped shape the course of illustration over the past several decades-- Seymour Chwast, Edward Sorel, Garry Trudeau and others-- seem to lack fundamental drawing skills. To their credit, they don't try to conceal it. Chwast is among the first to say that he avoids techniques and media "that require craftsmanship and a drawing ability that I do not have." Sorel admits, “I have never had the confidence that I could draw.... To me, a person with drawing skill is a guy who can sit down to a piece of paper and draw upon his familiarity with the body and with gesture, and do whatever he wants to do.”

The message of their art may be brilliant, but most of them could not have found jobs as an apprentice sharpening pencils in the era of Noel Sickles, Robert Fawcett or Austin Briggs. There are thousands of marvelous drawings out there by now-forgotten artists whose work is far superior to the work that currently causes the critics to swoon. To illustrate the point, let's look at some random examples of quality drawing. Compare the contemporary "masterpieces" above with the vigor and complexity of the linework in this sketch by J.C. Coll :
























Some illustrators argue that, as the illustrator's message becomes more important, the need for a "slick," polished image diminishes. Yet, the brilliant Ronald Searle repeatedly proved over the past 50 years that an illustrator does not need to sacrifice artistic quality in order to convey biting content:
























For another example of visual form worthy of its content, look at this fabulous, robust drawing by Jean Dubuffet, appropriately entitled "pisseur a droite." The drawing is just as powerful as the subject matter, and it makes the contemporary drawings above seem anemic by comparison.
























Here is yet another approach: Alex Raymond could always be counted on to wield a pen and brush for a sparkling effect. Each of these four artists artists draws with a strength and a humanity that is often absent in an era where so much art has been processed through the photoshop deflavorizing machine.






















How can we explain our hypogeusia? For one thing, our primary interest in art seems to have shifted from aesthetic quality to intellectual content. Arthur Danto, the art critic for The Nation, observed:


The way things have evolved, art can look like anything, so you can't tell by looking.... [A]rt these days has very little to do with aesthethic responses; it has more to do with intellectual responses.

This is what happens when we draw with our brains. From my perspective, "intellectual responses" are dandy but they can't begin to compensate for the decline in aesthetic quality. I am, however, eager to be instructed by those who understand "concept" illustration better than I do. There are plenty of you out there because I see your worshipful blogs to Ware, Spiegelman etc. all over the place. You're the reason I wrote today's entry. Please comment and explain where I am missing the boat!

Friday 20 January 2006

NEW ISSUE OF ILLUSTRATION MAGAZINE



The latest issue of illustration magazine is now out. The entire issue is devoted to the life and art of Bernie Fuchs, and it was written by yours truly.

This is the first real biography of Fuchs, and the first historical treatment of his artwork spanning his entire career. He has truly led a remarkable life. To give you a taste, here is a quote from the introduction:

Starting out in a small coal mining town in the depths of the Great Depression, Fuchs had no art training as a boy and no ambition to become an artist. He graduated from high school without ever painting a picture or even knowing what an illustrator did. After high school, he permanently injured his right hand, losing three fingers in an industrial accident that threatened his ability even to hold a pencil. The following year, he tried to find work on the assembly line at a puppet factory but was fired for incompetence at painting cartoon puppet heads.


Ten years later, Fuchs was one of the top illustrators in America. By the age of 30, he was voted Artist of the Year by the Artists Guild of New York. He became the youngest person ever elected to the Illustrators Hall of Fame, and the most honored illustrator of his generation. In the words of Walt Reed, the world’s foremost authority on illustration art, “his pictures are probably more admired—and more imitated—than those of any other current illustrator." Then the story gets interesting....



You can order a copy of the new issue from the publisher, Dan Zimmer at http://www.illustration-magazine.com/ or look for it at Borders, Barnes & Noble or other stores where art magazines are sold.

Monday 16 January 2006

ILLUSTRATION vs. FINE ART, round two

The great French impressionist Monet was famous for painting the same subject (such as hay stacks or a cathedral) in different light at different times of the day. By capturing his subject at morning, noon and night, he demonstrated how light and atmosphere transform an object.














In 1952, Norman Rockwell did the exact same thing with his cover painting for the Saturday Evening Post, "A Day In The Life Of A Girl."



In a single painting, Rockwell divides the day into 22 separate vignettes, from dawn until nightfall. Each vignette is a brilliant study of the light at that particular time of the day. In the morning sun, in the reflected light of a swimming pool, in the neon light outside a theatre, in the warm glow of a bedside lamp or illuminated by moonlight, Rockwell's girl undergoes color changes that, while not as flashy and lurid as Monet's haystacks, are just as sensitive to the nuances of light at any given time of the day.

A less observant artist might use the same skin tones and hair color throughout the painting, if only for continuity in a complex composition. Not Rockwell. His power of observation was exceeded only by his work ethic.

The only way to appreciate Rockwell's accomplishment is to view the original painting at the Rockwell Museum in Stockbridge, Mass. Unfortunately, I have only a scan of a dull print to reproduce here. Perhaps it will give you enough of a taste so that you will find it worth your while to check out the original. If you like Monet, it will be well worth your time.



The opening vignette is gilded with a brilliant yellow white color that does not show up well on the printed cover.

Below, Rockwell depicts the children in the glow from the light of a theatre marquee:

Next he shows the children illuminated by the light of the silver screen:

The children's skin takes on a completely different color at dusk, just like Monet's haystacks.

Contrast the cool light of the moon above with the warm glow of the bedside lamp as the girl fills out her diary:

Back in bed: compare the colors at night with the colors of the girl waking up:


Comparing Rockwell and Monet solely for their studies of light (without all the distracting smoke and mirrors from overfed publicity agents and Manhattan auction houses) I think Rockwell's painting accomplishes more than Monet's. Rockwell portrays more variations in natural and artificial light, working in a smaller, humbler space, with more sensitivity and technical skill than Monet. Rockwell's handicap was of course the sappy story line, which was designed to please the 1950s readers of the Saturday Evening Post. But if you put aside the content and pay attention to the things that matter to an artist, you will see that Rockwell's artistic challenge was the same as Monet's. The real subject of Rockwell's painting, like Monet's haystacks, is the effect of changing light. If you're looking for a safe commodity to invest in, pick the Monet. If you're ready to learn something about light, pick the Rockwell.

Wednesday 11 January 2006

Time offf

Until the end of January I probably won't be able to post. In the meantime, enjoy the archives and the links.

Monday 9 January 2006

Crisis etc.


There's a huge crisis in the Portuguese Ministery of Culture, and I'm writing about the influence of the CIA on the abstract art of the 70's. Escapism?


Francois Lefranc, Escapism (2001)

Abstract art's secret agents

Sam Francis, “Untitled” (ca. 1988-89)

Reposting can really be a good thing.
In 2003 Mark Vallen, the author of one of the most conservative contemporary art blogs I know, wrote a review of a book called The Cultural Cold War: The CIA and the World of Arts and Letters. Because of a recent exhibition of Sam Francis' works (mind you, Mark Vallen despises abstract painting), he reposted the text. Here are some fragments:
(...)during the height of the Cold War in the 1950's, the CIA secretly promoted abstract expressionism as a means of discrediting the socialist realism of the Soviet Union.(...)The spy agency created and staffed an international institution they named the Congress for Cultural Freedom(CCF,) and from 1950 to 1967 (when the front group was at last exposed as a CIA operation,) the spook endowment had secretly bankrolled the abstract expressionist movement with untold millions of dollars. (...) The CIA orchestrated the publication of a major article on Jackson Pollock in LIFE Magazine declaring him "the shining new phenomenon of American art," and the "greatest living artist."(...) The CIA applied considerable muscle in its endeavor to support and advance the abstract expressionist movement, and in large part they were successful. Realism became passé as art critics focused on singing the praises of action painting.
While this is certainly a very one-sided way of seeing things, the very fact that the CIA took such an active part in the art world is spooky. It's a classic conspiracy theory gone alternative, cynical and bewildering, as all good conspiracy theories are. Where does that put us? In the box of silly lunatics, children that are easily manipulated by anyone with money to spend on PR?
Possibly.
Nonetheless, if we read into art history a little more closely, and if we compare it to the changes in Western mentality, this apparent manipulation of the CIA is really just participating in a much bigger wave. I hope this blog shows that, contrary to what Mark Vallen would like us to believe, this wave hasn't only brought "decay and primitivism", but also many wonderful, crazy, profound, unexpected or simply - beautiful experiences. And one doesn't need to adore Sam Francis (I don't) to appreciate that.

For more on the book in question:

Sunday 8 January 2006

Art Bar


What would a real Art Bar look like? Of course, it would have nothing to do with those fancy, plushh interiors for posh people that have art director written on their business cards. It would have to be a place that corresponds to the very thing art is. And that wouldn't necessarily be so happy, would it?
Here's an attempt at imagining what a real Art Bar would look like. The 2002 work is a funny, light, and at times fairly sophisticated art amateur's inside joke, by Steve Whitehouse (and the Petrie Lounge).
The site has several other little gems, like this DaVinci Blues (1999 Flash animation that still looks fresh!), also by Steve Whitehouse.

Saturday 7 January 2006

Duchamp, Urinals, and the Press


Yes, Duchamp's Fountain is safe. It was attacked by an old man with a hammer, but without success. Only some pieces of porcelain were chipped away. The porcelain seems to be of good quality.
The author of the act considers them performance art. Maybe in an act of revenge, the police wouldn't reveal his name - although we know it's Pierre Pinoncelli, as this wasn't his first act of performance art with this piece - in 1993 he peed into it (and I think he also tried hitting it with a hammer).
The act itself isn't particularly original. The fact that Duchamp disapproved of museums could be an argument, but then of course, he tried, unseccessfuly, to put Fountain in an exhibition. Is messing with other people's work bad? Using other people's works for the creation of new ones is an entire tradition. A few years ago Maurizio Cattelan stole another artist's (Paul de Reus's) entire exhibition and put it as his own (and had troubles with the police because of that), Robert Rauschenberg erased drawings by De Kooning, etc, etc...
I have no problem seeing both a piece of art and a crime in such an event. I don't see why these two should be incompatible.
There is another interesting thing about the recent art attack. The way it was described by the media. Comapre the title in USA Today: "Dada artist accused of vandalizing Duchamp piece" with the one in The Independent: "Protester tries to chip away at the reputation of Duchamp's urinal". The latter refers to the artwork as to "the urinal", without even giving its title! Fortunately, other sources of information are available: the Polish Gazeta Wyborcza writes about the object's history, Le Monde has the longest and by far the most comprehensive article, citing the perpetrator/artist ("It was going to have a miserable existance...it was better to end it using a hammer"), and even mentions a rarely mentioned fact: the urinal is not the original Fountain, but one of the eight copies (??) that were made by the artist in 1964 (!!!), since the original was "lost" in 1917.
PS. According to one commentator, the dadaists made an exhibition in the 1920's where every visitor received a hammer, thus allowing her to participate in the art...

Friday 6 January 2006

FINE ART vs. ART THAT'S MIGHTY FINE

In the 1950s and '60s, fine artists Robert Motherwell, Robert Rauschenberg and Franz Kline dazzled art critics and museums around the world with their brilliant avant garde paintings.

At the same time, another painter-- Bernie Fuchs-- dealt with the exact same aesthetic problems in a different forum. Like Motherwell, Rauschenberg and Kline, Fuchs rejected the realistic painting of his predecessors (such as Norman Rockwell) and focused on broader qualities of abstract design and composition.

If we compare Fuchs' art with the work of the other three painters, applying the same standards, it is difficult to tell which painter is superior. Fuchs' compositions were equally bold and lovely. The colors and shapes were comparable. In fact, the only consistent difference between Fuchs and the three "fine" artists was the purpose for which the art was created. Motherwell, Rauschenberg and Kline created art for art's sake. Fuchs' art had a commercial function. He created art for a client's sake, for he is an illustrator.

Fuchs and Franz Kline:





These two paintings by Fuchs (above) and Kline (below)share vigorous, caligraphic brush strokes, strong compositions against a painterly white background, and stark use of negative space. Both were highly innovative for their day. Can you tell which one belongs in a museum?

Fuchs and Robert Motherwell:

Measured as abstract art, the following Fuchs painting...



... accomplishes everything the Motherwell painting below it does.



The big difference: the Fuchs painting also serves a function.

Fuchs and Robert Rauschenberg:

Beginning in the early 1960s, Fuchs began assembling "montage" pictures with multiple images, sometimes including photographs or "found" objects. In doing so, he rejected the orthodox notion that an illustration had to be a single image.



At exactly the same time, Rauschenberg wowed the art critics with his groundbreaking approach using montage images such as the one below.



The Fuchs painting appeared on the cover of TV Guide. The Rauschenberg piece appeared in a museum. While Rauschenberg lacked some fundamental drawing skills, I think he was nevertheless able to make a very nice montage out of photographic images.

Society For The Prevention of Cruelty To Dead Horses:

At the risk of belaboring the obvious, if the "fine art" market had a higher ratio of intellectual integrity to bloviation and avarice, museums would display fewer pictures on the basis of pedigree and more pictures on the basis of the object itself.


Conceptual or not conceptual?

Photosynthesis Robot, by Amy Franceschini and Michael Swaine of Futurefarmers, is a possible perpetual motion machine driven by phototropism - the movement of plants towards the direction of the sun. The motion of the plants upon this four wheeled vehicle would propel slowly over a period of time.

front350.jpg

I've been working with a group of artists on an idea not too distant from this, with one great difference: our project is not conceptual (sorry, can't reveal details for now). If it comes to life, it will be a highly complicated and high-tech work, nothing even similar to what I've been doing so far. And it costs. A lot. We're now fighting for funding. The question is: is it really worth creating "real things", if a "dummy" does the job? I mean, isn't that just the cutest thing in the world? Do we need to need more? Or maybe "doing the job" is actually hiding the possible diversity of such "jobs"... I just wish we came up with this simple witty idea instead of moving into heavy artillery.

Thanks Ivan Franco at YDreams for the link, and to we-make-money-not-art for the discovery.

Tuesday 3 January 2006

Art of(f) the Edge


The internet "intellectual site" Edge has recently published the answers to its Question of the Year. The question this year was "What is Your Dangerous Idea?" The answers came from a range of intellectuals, 117 of them to be precise. Most of them are physicists or psychologists, many scientists from other areas, a few writers. And three (non-writer) artists. Make that four - I forgot Michael "Nez" Lesmith, ex-member of The Monkees, who writes that according to him "Existence is Non-Time, Non-Sequential, and Non-Objective". (I'm glad - and somewhat scared - to know that.) As for the other three artists... The first one to appear is Richard Foreman, declaring that "Radicalized relativity" is his dangerous idea:
In my area of the arts and humanities, the most dangerous idea (and the one under who's influence I have operated throughout my artistic life) is the complete relativity of all positions and styles of procedure. The notion that there are no "absolutes" in art — and in the modern era, each valuable effort has been, in one way or another, the highlighting and glorification of elements previous [I think it should be "previously" - Vvoi] "off limits" and rejected by the previous "classical" style.
This rhetoric is so old I think it isn't really worth spending too much time on its critique (I've been writing about the issues and problems of the avant garde quite often anyway). Suffice it to say we all know there are no "absolutes", until we build them. And Foreman's theater has built such an absolute out of a particular stage language, a very consistent and not at all "off limits" one, at least not if by the term one means something innovative.
The second artist to answer the question is "famous landscape painter" April Gornik. And she makes an interesting remark:
The exact effect of art can't be controlled or fully anticipated
Great art makes itself vulnerable to interpretation, which is one reason that it keeps being stimulating and fascinating for generations. The problem inherent in this is that art could inspire malevolent behavior, as per the notion popularly expressed by A Clockwork Orange. When I was young, aspiring to be a conceptual artist, it disturbed me greatly that I couldn't control the interpretation of my work. When I began painting, it was even worse; even I wasn't completely sure of what my art meant. That seemed dangerous for me, personally, at that time. I gradually came not only to respect the complexity and inscrutability of painting and art, but to see how it empowers the object. I believe that works of art are animated by their creators, and remain able to generate thoughts, feelings, responses. However, the fact is that the exact effect of art can't be controlled or fully anticipated.

This is indeed interesting, and every artist must have had this experience - the work lives its own life. It isn't quite what I would call a revolutionary insight, but it is probably something new to many amateurs (and amateur amateurs) of art.
Finally, we have one of the "art starlets of the 90's", Eric Fischl. I do not particularly appreciate his work, but here is a thought of his that might sound intriguing:
(...) Vermeer puts me into what had been [his subject's] condition of uncertainty. All I can do is wonder and wait. This makes me think about how not knowing is so important. Not knowing makes the world large and uncertain and our survival tenuous. It is a mystery why humans roam and still more a mystery why we still need to feel so connected to the place we have left. The not knowing causes such profound anxiety it, in turn, spawns creativity. The impetus for this creativity is empowerment. Our gadgets, gizmoes, networks of transportation and communication, have all been developed either to explore, utilize or master the unknown territory.
If the unknown becomes known, and is not replaced with a new unknown, if the farther we reach outward is connected only to how fast we can bring it home, if the time between not knowing and knowing becomes too small, creativity will be daunted. And so I worry, if we bring the universe more completely, more effortlessly, into our homes will there be less reason to leave them?
What should I make of this? If you happen to have no background in philosophy, you might be impressed. The problem is, right next to this answer are more than a hundred answers that prove it wrong. They are ideas and reflections that put us back into a state of uncertainty, which, it is true, "spawns creativity", demanding new answers, new questions, new ways of touching.
Maybe, just maybe, the artists are supposed to be the ones touching, and not reflecting. And that would be the reason for such (I'm sorry) lame answers. My point is not that artists are stupid though. That they express, but are bad at analyzing. Many proofs have been giving of how false this statement is. Rather, I wonder - weren't the artists supposed to be the ones with dangerous ideas? The revolutionaries? The inventors of new worlds?
Here's an idea: they still might be. But nobody really cares, because artists live in a parallel world. Even the intellectual elites have no idea who can be an (intellectual, not just "intuitive" !) challenge for them. Who can be a partner in a crazy conversation about the future.
The good news is, no Hollywood stars even got a chance to answer the question. The bad - if the artists keep on answering so badly, or so quietly, they're bound to disappear, too. Without the comforting entertainment-style check...

pictures by April Gornik -
Field and Storm (2003) and Storm at Sea (2005)

I should have been a waiter

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Monday 2 January 2006