I just finished a brief examination of Picasso’s full and long life in the book Pablo Picasso: A Modern Master by one Richard Leslie. I’m not sure the book is worth commenting on in depth, but I sat down to write a little about it and we’ll see what the html editor spits out.

The presentation of Leslie’s short biographical work is impressive. The reproductions of Picasso’s work are very nice, printed on heavy, glossy paper. It feels good in your hands. That’s where my praise for the book ends, however. The short work is adequate enough in giving a person an overview of the artist’s life, but it does so with pretentious and unsubstantiated language. More than once I read a paragraph and came away wondering what orifice the writer pulled that out of. These recurring and somewhat convoluted observations would bother me less if they were elaborated upon. They might actually be accurate or warranted statements if Leslie gave us citations, or even if he prefaced certain paragraphs with “in my opinion,” but the author makes no reference to where his ideas are coming from.

As already noted, the writing does communicate the basics of Picasso’s life and work, from his youth and background to cubism and from harlequins to minotaurs. Unfortunately, the images of his paintings don’t follow the text with any semblance of order. I found myself paging around after seeing a reference to a particular work, wondering if it was pictured in the book on some far flung back page. The writing is chronological. The images are, in a very loose sense, attempting to chronological. But not.

I eluded a few weeks ago to the fact that, as I read through this short book, my respect for Picasso was ebbing. This caused me to wonder where this respect came from in the first place. Sure I knew who the artist was from college courses — even from culture at large — but I knew very little of him other than “cubism” and “Guernica.” He’s held up as this mythical figure in the art world, but few details go along with this unspoken heroism in my experience. It takes independent research to really examine an artist’s life and body of work. History classes don’t cut it.

I’m still smitten with Guernica. The painting above of the war in Korea is impressive too, although this painting isn’t one from the book. A lot of the paintings and sculptures featured in A Modern Master come across as scrappy. I’m hard pressed to see the craft I expected to see from a man so revered in the art world. Perhaps this book chose poorly when selecting works to represent the life of this prolific artist.

After my last clarifying post, I hesitate to use the phrase “Abstract Answer” in my title. But since this is continuing the same series I’m going to roll with it for now. I may change all of the titles, if I decide how, for this series in the future.

From the discourse between Tim Jones and myself this week, “I think the problem is not that the abstractionists think too highly of decorative art, but that they think of it not near highly enough.” Interestingly enough, I was having very similar thoughts in relationship to our banter.

What is decorative art?
In one of the later comments from this week, the Old World Swine author gives the basis for his understanding of decoration:

“decor… 1897, from Fr. décor, from L. decor “beauty, elegance,” from decere (see decorate).”

Above from the Online Etymology Dictionary, etymonline.com

In my post in this series titled Baseline banter I charted out how some different tactile arts fall along the lines of the art vs. craft debate. Wikipedia — and yes, I still respect this resource even though they didn’t get it right with the abstract vs. non-representational understanding — describes decorative art almost exactly like my graph defines the crafts. This was a bit of a surprise to me at first glance, but after a few seconds it seemed reasonable.

Jones now firmly believes that all non-representational artwork should be classified as decorative art. The following points examine this idea.

Labeling
There is a problem, off-hand, with labeling non-representational artists’ work as decorative. It implies, whether intended or not, that they are not as serious as other artists. This is a complex issue I probably don’t have the time or room to get into fully, but it’s there. It harkens back to the eternally elusive definition of art itself. For instance, where does one, along the above graph, begin referring to something as a craft instead of as an art? Do the arts/crafts in the middle of the chart get called both? Are all of them both to a certain degree so that it doesn’t matter what we call them?

In truth each of the above contains both art and craft, and the more I think about these things the less I care about what things are called, despite my keen and continuing interest in this conversation. Some people create beautiful and meaningful paintings, some create beautiful and functional furniture. My hope is that each of these craftsman thoroughly enjoy what they are presently involved with.

I may be a bit of an oddball anyway. I enjoy designing and building furniture or sketching floor plans as much as I enjoy attempting to be a part of the gallery art world. Hence, this blog aims to examine this same range of tactility.

Intention
This may be a trickier point still, and one that hits a little closer to home for me. Jones says the following in a comment on Aesthetic Escalator: (more…)

Er, clarification, let’s hope.

Let me clarify something I previously mentioned in this series. There has been some semantic confusion between Jones and I in the midst of our banter. This may be largely my fault, as I often use the terms abstract and non-representational interchangeably. Such goes against my own intention to communicate as clearly as possible. It’s little surprise that I do this, however; even Wikipedia and Dictionary.com are confused on this point, equating “abstract” and “non-representational.” Connotatively, abstract in the context of art means the same thing as non-representational.

With this in mind, a better definition for the clearest possible conversation among artists is the following from Webster’s Revised Unabridged Dictionary:

The act or process of leaving out of consideration one or more properties of a complex object so as to attend to others . . .

To further complicate matters, Jones refers to non-representational artwork as “non-objective.” They are essentially synonyms, but the latter isn’t a word I knew of until we began (more than a year ago now) this discourse. He explained his use of the phrase non-objective to me at some point in the past, but I was not remembering the explanation when I needed to this week.

I will now provide an example of an abstract work of art:

And an example of a non-representational, or non-objective, work of art:

Koons’ sculpture still looks like tulips, even though they are highly stylized, and sans stems. It is abstracted. Fujimura’s painting does not contain any recognizable objects and is therefore non-representational or non-objective.

Abstract and non-representational are different. They need to be kept different if we, as a culture, are going to be able to speak intelligently and clearly about the arts.

I ended the Semantic shakedown with a paragraph noting that “I’ve come to realize that part of the misunderstanding between Jones and I lies in the very different physical qualities and historical aspects of the media we work in.” Of course, he may not think this, but he doesn’t have to for it to be true on my end.

As I thought about this more, I devised a graph that elaborates on one part of these differences, their relationship to function, or craft.

This image makes use, in part, of my own knowledge of historical aspects of these art forms. This chart is by no means concrete or comprehensive, but it helped me along in my consideration of differing baselines among artists.

With respect to historical qualities
Painting is usually the finest of the fine arts in the context of the art world. Sculpture may be more elite, in a sense, but I’ve put it closer to “Craft” on the above graph because it isn’t usually as accessible to the general public as works that hang on a wall. Further, some of the materials used in sculpture are more closely tied to functional applications.

Ceramics is farther down the the list, being strongly rooted in the crafts. Sure, clay has been used as a sculptural medium for millennia, but when people think of it they think of thrown vessels: Water pots, beer steins and rice bowls. I am undoubtedly drawn towards clay over paint, to three-dimensional media over two-dimensional (which is why, when I do dabble with the brush — or knife, as it were — and board, my strokes emulate those of Wayne Thiebaud). The history that comes along with my three-dimensional media of choice, clay, absolutely plays a role in how I approach my work and think about the arts.

With respect to physical qualities
It goes without saying that paint and clay are very different materials. The differing palpable qualities of common artistic media, I’ve realized this week, probably play a significant role in an artist’s work and philosophy. Yes, I’ve used a brush and canvas, but I’m naturally drawn to three-dimensional materials such as clay and wood. Something in my brain is predisposed to working with my hands in this way, working around a medium.

Another observation, carving on wood or modeling clay us usually a more physical act than mixing and applying paint. When I’m working with clay I’m kneading, pounding and rolling before getting into the details. Cajoling blocks of wood or stone into new forms is even more muscular. This is part of what I enjoy about these media though. I’ve always been a pretty active bloke, and these kinds of physical exertion are more important after sitting behind a desk at my “day job.”

Process over product
One final note which may be a bit tangential to baselines, but is in my notes.

I first heard the phrase “Process over product” some 10 years ago as an art student. Where it was cited back then, the quote was attributed to da Vinci. It resonated with me immediately. Perhaps this was, at least in part, related to my position as a student, where part of the job of learning in the arts is exploring a variety of media. But the desire to see how things work, to see how far I can push something and to explore new techniques sticks with me.

This is not to say that I’m uninterested in the finished product. I am very interested in creating bodies of work that are significant in relationship to my own personal and artistic philosophies. But if I have to throw a few things in the garbage along the way I’m not going to cry about it. I value the process.

In essence, two-dimensional and three-dimensional artists probably work from very different physical and mental baselines. Each media, if an artist works mainly with a particular one, contains a unique history as well as modern connotative “baggage,” so to speak, that influences how an artist approaches his or her pieces. This may be conscious or subconscious; it may bear a positive or negative result in a painting or print or sculpture.

But it’s there.

I’ve been working on this response for three days now, without much formulative success as time went on. So I’m just going going to spill it. This will be the first of at least three parts.

Timothy Jones, of Old World Swine, and I are back in the throes of our spirited and friendly banter on the respective merits of representational and non-representational artwork. Earlier this week he pointed out the problems with Guy Kemper’s glass installations in a rip-roaring post titled Aesthetic Escalator, which he followed up with Aesthetic Esclator, the Sequal, commenting on my comment where I stated that “I personally fail to see how fruit in a bowl is more engaging than certain abstract works.” Through the course of our discourse we’ve both acknowledged our own inability to completely comprehend this dichotomy, although in a comment this week Jones declares he now firmly believes that abstract art equals decorative art.

I don’t know precisely what he means by decorative art. Wikipedia suggests the traditional understanding includes ceramics, wood, glass, metal and textiles. The fine arts, in contrast, are painting, drawing, photography (this is a real surprise to me) and “large-scale” sculpture.

The Old World Swine author used the phrase “fine art” as well during in our bloggy discussion this week. I’ve used this term in the past, although I shy away from it anymore if I can help it. Reading Wikipedia’s brief article on fine art is a good way to understand the problems with this phrase. Jones uses the phrase in the most traditional sense, and is probably using it to refer to “the purity of the discipline” per Wikipedia. He also uses the term to segregate classical techniques from modern (non-representational) if I understand correctly. There remain, however, numerous other connotative understandings of the phrase. This makes conversations like these more arduous than they need to be.

I strive, whenever I can, for clear communication. I like words to mean specific things so that our intentions and ideas can be clearly conveyed. I learned, however, in my singular college level linguistics course that American English is probably the shiftiest of all modern languages. Our culture is more than eager to learn and employ new words, and change the meaning of older ones. Take, for instance, the recent changes in how so many people use the word “pimp.” I’ll point out lastly that I occasionally mis-read some of Jones’ posts, my own fault, on account of his use of the phrase “non-objective.” I didn’t know this term until I met Tim; it essentially means the same thing as non-representational, a phrase I’m very familiar with.

I’ve come to realize that another part of the misunderstanding between Jones and I lies in the very different physical qualities and historical aspects of the media we work in. Yes, we’re both talking about our art, but our baselines are probably very different. Beside the realism vs. abstract discussion, I’m equally fascinated and entrenched with the art vs. craft debates. This is inherent when working with clay. Ceramics boasts a long and wonderful history with both functional and sculptural works, but this functional aspect is something that’s pretty much foreign to certain media, notably paint, and to a lesser degree sculpture.

More from Jones and my banter about “realism” and “abstraction:”

Continuing conversation on abstraction
Abstract appreciation
More on realism and abstraction
Follow Up: JBU Gallery St. Francis Benefit

Ran across this glass artist today via EnvisionChurch. He does some very unique installations as windows, on a large scale. Envision picked my favorite from his gallery to include in their June Newsletter:

This work is titled “Rise,” and is located at the Catholic Memorial at Ground Zero, St. Joseph’s Chapel. The installation is 24 by 10 feet.

I really liked this following paragraph from Envision’s article:

What glass as a material does best is to act as a vehicle to the sublime. Though abstract, my work is rooted in recognizable symbolism and natural phenomena. I feel refracted light may inspire a greater degree of illumination than literal narration. I don’t explain everything; I merely crack open a door to the Mystery.

I can personally relate to the statement, “Though abstract, my work is rooted in recognizable symbolism and natural phenomena.” This is basically my own artistic philosophy as well. It’s interesting and pleasantly surprising to read things like this, where others are able to concisely state what you haven’t been able to put in such specific terms as of yet. I also appreciate his attention to the sublime, even I don’t still understand that concept as well as I’d like to. And — while I’m at it I may as well compliment every part of the quote — the mention of Mystery (I’m wondering why the word is capitalized in the excerpt; I’m assuming it’s intentional) is something the arts are commended for regularly, and rightfully.

I feel the need to add that Kemper’s website appears to be very out of date. The last update apparently occurred in May of 2006.

In the last pages of Time-Life’s The World of Bruegel, I came across one of the most poignant quotations on art — speaking, it seems to me, particularly to the making of art — that I can remember in quite some time. From page 169:

Great paintings are not photographs but doorways into another world, a world so complete and so compelling that the eye and the mind of the viewer are drawn deeper and deeper into it. If the painting has too little content or none at all, only the eye will be pleased. Nor will the mind and imagination be engaged in it if the content is too literal or commonplace, stating everything but implying nothing. Such paintings, though recognizably real, will remain mere factual surfaces.

This from the editors of a book I criticized, too harshly in my wife’s opinion, this past March. I’m not exactly certain what to take away from the quotation as someone who 1) works in three dimensions as opposed to on canvas or board and 2) is innately drawn to minimalistic and abstract forms, but the observation seems to possess some value so I’m diving deeper into the rabbit hole.

Portraiture is often guilty of attempting to convey too much content in my opinion. Very little is left to the imagination in works such as Jacques-Louis David’s Napoleon. Part of this may be a generational or historical ignorance if the painting utilizes symbolism lost on viewers not intimately familiar with art history, but frankly this work is little more than eye candy in a visual sense.

It’s easy, however, for me to think of portraits that I do find engaging. Girl With a Pearl Earring, the Mona Lisa and — though less formal — Manet’s A Bar at the Folies Bergere come to mind.

Girl with a Pearl Earring is one of my favorite paintings, not just portraits. It is wonderfully successful in it’s use of color, composition and countenance. The slightly open lips and black background add an incredible amount of interest. The Mona Lisa, while not a personal favorite, succeeds in the imaginative department with its surreal setting and, again, a facial expression that’s not quite definable. The Manet pictured above is another on the top of my own list. It is so easy in this painting for the viewer to climb into the bartender’s thoughts through her countenance. And while the proportions of her figure seem a bit awkward (though they may be accurate taking into account the crazy corsets of the represented time), the fact that her body is just off center — note the different spaces between her arms and torso on each side of the figure — lends an incredible sense of believability.

The aforementioned Napoleon has none of these things. It is stern and matter-of-fact, not asking anything of the person looking at the painting.

Perhaps a more interesting direction to take this discussion is how the quote relates to non-representational works, if it does. It’s easy to see how people might think these kind of paintings have too little content. For instance, does Jackson Pollock’s work from his “drip period” have any content to speak of? What about Rothko’s famous works? Does a piece of art need to have a recognizable element in order to have content?

I finished up a number of small works this weekend. Here’s a gallery of the works; as before, click on the thumbnails for larger images.

I’m satisfied with the way most of these turned out. I’ve been waffling on how to mount and present these small ceramic works since firing them. Part of me wants them to stand alone — and some of them will — but at the same time a number of them just don’t seem comfortable or finished to me by themselves. This may also be a subconscious desire to mix media. Contrast is a significant interest of mine and I do this in part through the mixing of media.

The one small piece, it’s about 5-6 inches tall, that I’m not sure of is the orange one mounted on a rock that I found in an alley. On the two darkest wall-hung works the thickly applied acrylic paint on the board bubbled as it dried. I usually do this with oils and have no problem. I used acrylic from my small box of paints because it dries so much more quickly and the colors were more like what I was after.

To reiterate, these forms are inspired by my years of observing storm clouds on the prairie. I’m also working with an idea of creating a modern icon, an idea that’s been simmering in my mind in some form or fashion for nearly a decade now but has yet to put down roots. Thirdly, as always, I’m aiming for what seems to me beautiful forms and surfaces. I don’t feel the need to infuse meaning, symbolism, irony — although these are all good things — into every sculpture.

I’m jonesing to actually go photographing storms. There have been a few decent ones nearby in the last week, but I was without a car and there are just so few good places in these hills and trees to observe them. I’d like to do some ink and brush drawings en plein air as well if I can catch a good thunderstorm this summer, and being able to sculpt while watching one would be even better.

We’ll see if I can make that happen.

I was flattered, albeit slightly confused, yesterday to receive a call from the Better Business Bureau. Apparently someone had made an inquiry as to my business’s credibility and they were following up for that person. This website was originally begun as a front for freelance design I intended to do, but never really got around to other than three or four random projects. In fact, I was surprised when I caught the blogging fever. My first idea for The Aesthetic Elevator was to be no more than a portfolio with some contact information. I do maintain a page whereby people visiting the website can contact me for freelance design work, but I don’t push it and, in truth, am much more interested in pursuing my tactile art than doing any more graphic design at this point in my life.

Although the money is good in freelance design, and sometimes that’s hard to pass up.

A while back I found LeAnne Martin’s blog titled Christians in the Arts. I followed it for a short time without being interested in much of the content — her interviews weren’t usually with visual artists — but for some reason I re-added it to my list of blogs a few months ago. I’m glad I did; a number of her recent posts have been with tactile artists.

The most recent entry is part I of a conversation with Stephanie Tumney. Tumney is a gifted stone sculptor. I don’t find many people working in stone (or other traditional sculptural media such a bronze, for that matter), so I was intrigued. Her website is a bit scant in the gallery department, containing images of only five works, but these works are quite nice.

I like the scale and style of the abstraction she’s using with the figure. It’s reminiscent of Leonard Dufresne’s characters, which I’m quite fond of. They almost seem more human to my eye despite being slightly out of proportion. The exaggerations somehow increase a viewer’s affection towards the people being portrayed in the stone and pigment and, if you’ll allow me to extrapolate even more, give us hopeful perception of humanity.

It’s a thrill to come across artists of faith like Tumney, whose works will endure aesthetically and physically.

I wandered through the Taylor University art building this afternoon and took a few photos of some interesting works with my cameraphone. The newspaper wasp nest was particularly intriguing. I’m also somewhat enamored with the tall, narrow painting of read flower-ish forms.

This is also a good excuse to try out the new gallery feature on WordPress 2.5; I’m not sure why the tool has spread the photos out like it has in Safari (on my own screen), somewhat randomly. Using Firefox on my wife’s MacBook, all of the thumbnails are in a row across the post. As I recall, this is how the WordPress demo showed them.

My impression was that these are all student works with the exception of the collage, which may have been a professor’s piece. The student works were in the hallway of the art building; the collage was part of a show in the college’s small gallery space. This is some pretty solid work from a student in my experience. Craft and concept are, very pleasantly, beyond what I’ve come to expect in recent years.

Adding: It seems this was, with the exception of the collage, a senior’s BFA exhibit. I learned this after going back to look at the aforementioned painting I liked so well. The painting was gone along with all of the other works, and another senior show was going up. Unfortunately the new works were covered in paper. The artist didn’t want them to be revealed until the 7 p.m. opening, which I wasn’t around for. I had half a mind to see how much (or, sad as it may be true, how little) I could purchase that painting for. Maybe I’ll call up to the art department if I remember. From what I can tell on the Taylor website, the name of the artist whose work I did see is Lindsay Schiller.