Modern art evokes more emotion

A Miller-McCune brief alerts us to a survey recently published in the journal Psychology of Aesthetics, Creativity and the Arts. That sounds like something I need to subscribe to. It also sounds like something over my head.

The survey, conducted by the University of Rome, suggests — I can’t make myself use the word “concludes” when they only talked to 137 people — that visitors to museums exhibiting modern art are more likely to engage the artwork emotionally, while those viewing classical works use their brains.

A sound work of art will invite a viewer to employ both their emotions and cognitive skills. Both are valid responses; as humans we’re both emotional and thinking creatures. Imagining myself walking through a gallery, I can’t separate my own responses. A well crafted still life or portrait elicits just as much emotion as a modern work, and vice versa.

Some artwork will, admittedly, evoke emotion more easily than others. And that’s OK. The model for the following sculpture was the sculptor’s six year old daughter. In the context of the title of the work, it’s entirely appropriate.

Iche-guernica

Guernica by French artist René Iché. Image from Wikipedia.

Art without ardor

Here I quote an excerpt from a long article I wish I had time to read. But I don’t. I found the excerpt on The Curator.

    But a theory of art that is grounded in the assumption that art can do without ardor is dangerous for art, and therefore for us. Art is by its very nature a form of emphasis and extremism. Artistic truth is an exaggeration, and a distortion of ordinary truth. This is something that Picasso teaches us, time and again. The artist takes experiences and apprehensions and enlarges them, extends them. Such an activity cannot be defined negatively, at least not for very long. No art worth considering can ever really be understood as post-this or post-that — as a rejection of classicism or of modernism or, for that matter, of Dadaism. Whatever its historical debts and struggles, art makes its claims in the present — as an argument for the value of immediate experience, and as a vindication of it.

I thought it was worth reiterating that art without ardor is basically impotent. Of course, how said passion manifests itself in each of our lives — artists or not — and our paintings and sculptures varies significantly. It’s the business of the artist to be earnest in their own pursuit.

The language following the first sentence of this paragraph is debatable, but not necessarily wrong in my opinion either. It can be read in different ways.

Just like every work of art, eh?

Is it easier and best to just avoid the word “art?”

Thoughts and conversations I’ve engaged in the past few years brought me to a point where I try and use the word art less and less. It’s a troublesome word. It carries a comical amount of baggage everywhere it goes. To every gallery, every studio, to every local culture and every family it brings steamer trunks full of varying vernaculars.

Instead of the word art I now employ words like craft (which is not, despite modern notions, in opposition to art), sculpture, painting, imagination, creative, etc. By no means is this glossary of more specific terms something I have worked out, but it is working at the moment.

Of course, the point is not so much to avoid the often inevitable conflicts that arise between artists, viewers, friends and family members when it comes to what is or isn’t art. Regular readers will attest to my interest in approaching these topics full-on, I think. The point is to change my, or our, vocabulary (and the assumptions behind our present art-related vocabularies) in such a way that we are better equipped to create and view the environments around us in all their craft. The natural environment, the city spaces, architectural spaces down to the details that are paintings, sculptures and the ceramic dishes we eat off of.

2 August 2009 storm

Part of the natural environment I observed last night.

Show, don’t tell: Round 1

Round 1 in the Show, don’t tell showdown: Patty Wickman versus ubiquitous Christian painting hanging in most every American baptist church.

Patty Wikman thief

Above is Patty Wickman’s surreal A Thief in the Night. Wickman, an art professor at UCLA, is a master (in my opinion) of turning beautifully simple subjects into powerful metaphors.

Jesus knocking

Which do you think is more powerful imagery? Which is more likely to cause the viewer to more deeply engage the subject matter? Which one employs imagination? Which one tells and which one shows? And (ironically) which one is more likely to change a person’s attitude or worldview?

Christians in the past 100 years seem to have forgotten how to be creative, use our imaginations, when communicating visually. For some reason we feel the need to reduce the Gospel (and any other theological tenets we hold dear) to what is more or less propaganda. We obviously aren’t reading our Gospels very closely. The parables are a prime example of using art — storytelling — to show people an idea or principle rather than just saying it out loud. Granted, the culture was different then than now, and we may not be able to do exactly as Jesus did, but the point remains: People won’t respond to a direct statement in the same manner as they will to something that is illustrated, painted, drawn out.

And, for what it’s worth, the painting of Jesus knocking at the door (of your heart as so many mistakenly believe) is based on a verse, as far as I know, that’s almost always taken out of context. The imagery is generally used to appeal to non-believers. In reality, the verse is speaking to the church of Laodicea in the context of repentance.

When it comes to art, show, don’t tell

Don’t say the old lady screamed. Bring her on and let her scream.

- Mark Twain (via my wife’s blog)

One of the things attendees to IAM Encounter 09 received in the obligatory bag of conference goodies was an audio CD with an interview of Steve Turner. Turner wrote a book titled Imagine: A vision for Christians in the arts. The interview is a stellar listen.

I can’t find the CD at the moment — in the chaos that is packing up a house — so can’t quote Turner, but the crux of what caught my attention in the interview is summed up in three words: Show, don’t tell. This is apparently a maxim of the theater world in particular.

In one sense, the idea is very simple. At the same time it’s probably worthy of a thesis. I tried and tried again over the past two weeks to turn this post into an essay worthy of this topic, to no avail. Instead, I’m going to follow up with a series of posts comparing images. One image will show, the other will tell.

True, noble, right, pure, lovely and admirable

This is the second interesting article in the last month to come out of a web journal called The Other Journal. The teaser below is from an article in their Aesthetics issue, written by Daniel Siedell and titled Altars to Unknown Gods: A Christian approach to contemporary art.

    Dostoyevsky once said that beauty would save the world. Most Christian writing on the visual arts, however, is a betrayal of the depth and profundity of the Christian tradition that Dostoyevsky represents. It reflects the negativity and superficiality of contemporary cultural discourse rather than the living tradition of the church as Christ’s presence in the world.

    Saint Paul tells us to embrace “whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable [. . . .]” (Phil. 4: 8). We are called to embrace, not merely to reject in the name of Christ. Too often Christian writing on contemporary art is a litany of rejections and, at times, even appears to take pleasure in drawing our attention to those characteristics and qualities that contradict Saint Paul.

It’s a very good article (only three pages long), in my opinion, that puts into clear language thoughts I’ve had in the past ten years but may not have been able to articulate. Read it in its entirety via the link above. I plan to reread it a few times in order to thoroughly digest his words.

thesefinalhours

These Final Hours by Robyn O’Neil, who Siedell cites in his article

Does subject dictate message in an artwork?

Cinnamon Soup’s question of the week is as follows:

    What do you consider to be more important, the subject matter of an art work or the message it conveys?

My response to that question, which touches on something that’s been in the back of my mind for the past few weeks anyway, is below:

    An artwork’s message is contingent to a large degree (but not entirely) on its subject, isn’t it? Then again, messages aren’t always received by viewers as artists intend, even in the case of realism.

    For years now ,clouds (mainly thunderstorms, but some more of the fluffly kind recently) have been a significant part of my inspiration and subject matter. When I’m crafting storms or clouds from clay or wood I have my own reasons and hopes for how a viewer will receive that message, but I’m fully aware that’s often not the case. People see whatever they want to in clouds — bunnies, ducks, firearms. In fact, we [Americans] expect to see things in clouds that aren’t there.

    And here I am creating fairly realistic sculptures of thunderstorms and fluffy cumulus clouds hoping the viewers see, at the outset, storms and clouds. This paradox intrigues me, and is, perhaps, itself becoming part of the subject matter in my sculptures the more I continue in this atmospheric vein.

Roughing out wooden storms

Adding: Thought this related to the question above:

    Art is not merely or even partly a “communication” of “messages.” It is not a visual illustration of a philosophy, idea, or sign. It is not a preformed idea that is wrapped up in artistic material that the viewer then unwraps to “get.” As I never tire of telling my students, art is a complex and tense hypostatic union of form and content; it is about its “howness” (form) as much as its “whatness” (content). There is nothing to unwrap. This is why art should not be “read,” “decoded,” or otherwise considered to be the sum of its constituent parts. It is to be experienced—contemplated and communed with, dwelt upon. This of course is dangerous, because an aesthetic experience can do unexpected things to you. And given our own differences in experience that the work of art engages, our responses to the work will be different.

From The Other Journal

God in the Gallery

There’s a new book out titled God in the Gallery, written by Daniel Seidell. I intend to read the the book at some point; it’s already on my Amazon wish list.

Seidell was curator of The Sheldon when I was a studio art student at the University of Nebraska at Lincoln. Heather Goodman reviews the book over at L’Chaim. It’s a good review which includes the following quote:

    The church, with its liturgical practice, is most definitely not the place to incorporate art that forces the worshiper to ‘ask tough questions,’ ‘challenge previously held beliefs,’ and so on. Those are absolutely important practices, but not in liturgy.

Bear in mind that Seidell is a curator, not an artist or clergyman.

I’m not sure what I think of this particular statement. As someone who thinks often and in detail about the space I visit for regular corporate worship, I can see his point. However, as a visual artist I think I have to disagree. Goodman’s own comments might sum up this discord as well as I can (emphasis mine):

    I don’t agree. To be fair, Siedell doesn’t believe that the church stymies imagination but can inspire the imagination, especially through engagement with Nicene theology. But I don’t like this separation of art for the church and art for the world. First, in our teaching (sermons, Bible studies, Sunday schools, small groups), we “ask tough questions” and “challenge previously held beliefs,” so why not in our art in the church? Second, if drawing into the church encourages and prepares us to go out into the world, why should we compartmentalize aspects of our life? Shouldn’t it all flow together?

    (I want to note that in addition to stimulating the imagination, Siedell also believes the church can patron the arts and should, not just through funding, but through training the artist spiritually. I wholeheartedly agree with this.)

    I allow that there’s an expectation level. You don’t want to shock the worshiper so that they can’t worship. This requires discernment, gentleness, and education. I’ll also allow that not every bit of art is appropriate because it may not be an art that a particular culture engages in. Sometimes this should be challenged, but sometimes it is in line with contextualization. But art that a culture engages in as part of their everyday lives is fair game.

All in all Goodman thoroughly enjoyed God in the Gallery and recommends it for anyone interested in the conversation between art and faith. I’ll add that I’m glad Seidell took the time to write the book from his point of view as a curator.

LinkLuv: Hitler, R.C. Sproul and Obama in art news

Hitler paintings sell for combined $143,000 at British auction house. Yes, Hitler was an aspiring artist before he was a cruel dictator. I’m still surprised at how many people don’t know this bit of trivia. The watercolor below went for $10,000 and is believed to be a self-portrait.

adolf-hitlers-painting2


R.C. Sproul talked about how Christians perceive the arts in 1986
. Not a terrible or terribly fascinating article, but the source and the date combined made the case to post this link.

A new painting of Obama scheduled to be unveiled in New York City on the 100th day of the new president’s term has now been canceled. Apparently this image caused an uproar similar to that of Serrano’s Piss Christ, Cavallaro’s Chocolate Jesus, Brack’s Bearded Orientals etc etc. People seem to forget that one valid function of the arts is to raise questions about culture. They also seem to forget that, per the childhood platitude, “you can’t please all of the people all of the time.”

obama-the-truth

R.I.P. Andrew Wyeth

This isn’t something I normally do, mark the death of a significant artist (Of course, I’ve only been blogging for three years or so, and perhaps there haven’t been very many notable artists who’ve passed in this time.), but I thought I’d make a note of it this morning.

christinasworld

Andrew Wyeth died today at the age of 91. Wyeth was an American realist known for Christina’s World (1948, above) and a series of studies of his neighbor Helga (below, 1971-1985). Critics have long complained that his work is little more than illustration, although shows of the artist’s paintings often draw record crowds.

Not knowing much more than I’ve already stated about the artist, I still disagree with this recurring criticism. There is, in my opinion, a depth of content by means of his composition and subject matter that I don’t generally associate with mere illustration. While not quite as surreal and evocative as, say, contemporary realist works by the likes of Patty Wickman, Wyeth’s paintings draw out a contemplative emotion far beyond a Rockwellian nostalgia — who’s works aren’t really contemplative at all. Wyeth’s painting was, probably, poorly received simply because he happened to be a realist in a Modernist world.

andrew_wyeth_helga