From the International Herald Tribune, an article titled Dwindling art supplies generate blindness - and erratic prices. This interesting, if unfathomable, piece ends with this paragraph:

Art lovers with millions to spare, do not despair in these lean times. Even when there is not much left to sift through, great works of art can still be found, if only because so few buyers have the eye needed to recognize them.

The article basically laments how wealthy collectors bid up mediocre works by popular artists while overlooking better paintings by lesser known craftsmen. Regardless, the numbers being thrown around are the kinds of money I think of retiring on — after giving most of it away.

But I’m not writing this post in response to the numbers or to desperate connoisseurs shelling out boatloads of clams just so they can say they own a Monet. I’m writing this to ask whether or not we can we create more of a sense of balance in the art world, with more reasonable prices and local markets. This was where my mind went after reading the title of the aforementioned article.

It’s OK that galleries, museums and individuals express such desire, via their wallets, for certain works of art by categorically revered artists. But, and this is really just brainstorming here, isn’t there a better way for all of this money to be spent? Why can’t these cash laden art lovers do a little more research and help out the quality up-and-coming local artist by purchasing his or her canvases. Not just paintings by the dead ones. What if they spent a little less on antiques and a little more on new works?

Just a thought. A rant. An aspiring artist’s ramble. Sure I have a vested interest in how collector’s spend their money on the work of living painters and sculptors. But, seriously, aren’t the prices being paid for these masterworks more than just a little bit out of hand?

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

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?

This post has to be the winner for “Longest Title” among all of the entries I’ve made to this blog so far. From Bloomberg, this is an interesting article about American collectors being called on to purchase Muslim art. Most of the writing focuses on the business aspect of a venture by the al-Shroogi family, who owns the Cuadro Fine Art Gallery in Dubai.

More interesting, however, than the article’s discussion about marketing Islamic art to Westerners — and the fact that there are indeed modern Muslim artists — is some very brief commentary about art and culture:

“Imagine, Muslim artwork hanging in Naples [Florida],” al-Shroogi says through a radio headset. “We need to do more of this,” the Bahraini banker adds as the aircraft laden with modern and contemporary Islamic art makes its final approach on a family expedition to convince Americans that the Middle East is more than a terrorist hatchery . . .

It’s an undertaking born from the al-Shroogi clan’s passion for art, the patronage of Bahrain’s royal family and the conviction that the Islamic nation a few miles off the Saudi Arabian coast has the muscle to build a genuine cultural bridge between the U.S. and the Muslim world.

Can art actually bridge cultures, and what exactly does that mean? Will Westerners think differently about the Middle East if they look at a few paintings by Muslim artists? The possibility exists for this; remember my February post regarding a Jewish atheist deeply moved by a 600 year old altarpiece.

Painting by John Torreano exhibited at the Cuadro gallery in Dubai.

The tactile arts are important to culture and communication, despite the anaemic attitude towards serious artistic endeavors in the American Church, generally speaking. Significant new paintings and sculptures created by artists of faith intently pursuing careers as artists, engaging the culture and furthering their craft, are needed in the Church as an intentional witness to culture here and abroad.

I remember hearing a story at conference in Portland a few years ago about a couple who went into the desert of Africa as missionaries. The wife served as a doctor, and the husband worked as an artist. He set up a studio in a shipping crate and made art for a year or so. At the end of the year he held a show for the community. I don’t know how many pieces there were, what the media was or what they looked like. My impression, if I recall correctly, was that they weren’t simple Sunday School drawings. They were more likely contemporary works. Regardless, the media reportedly conveyed the Gospel to that community in an effective way.

Take note, pastors. Take note, Church leadership and parishioners. What can you do to help make the name of God better through the arts? First off, make certain your own attitude is positive toward the arts. Educate yourself as to the importance of art in culture and Christianity. You don’t need a degree to appreciate art. Understand that it is OK if a person wants to create abstract paintings that aren’t about Bible verses; understand that it’s OK if someone wants to be a full-time artist. This is not a cop-out, it’s not laziness. Yes, it’s hard to make a living at times, but if society changes how it thinks about art and artists this won’t so often be the case.

Further, encourage aspiring or practicing artists in your congregation, and make sure they know there are others like them. Organize exhibits of paintings and sculptures; organize small groups so creative people can encourage one another. Allow the artists you know freedom to push your own boundaries. Yes, there are appropriate limits, but creativity begs new ideas and reminds us of how we are created in the Creator’s likeness. Don’t poo-poo something just because it makes you uncomfortable or isn’t your own taste, and feel free to engage in significant and witty critique in order to better understand such works.

I have to laugh every time I glance in the youth room at our church, where a mixed media work I donated hangs. When I first saw it there — instead of in a more public space such as a hallway or foyer — I wasn’t in the least surprised, but I was disappointed. It’s well crafted and blatantly Scriptural. My hope was that it would be hung in a place visible to anyone in the church at any time as something to meditate on.

Moth Mend, 2006. Moth-eaten sweaters, new red silk, paint.

I can laugh at the typographical triptych’s placement within my own church because I expected it, sadly, but I hold no grudge and hope that the kids who see it on a weekly basis are encouraged by it. I also hope, however, that the American Church soon comes to realize that segregating the palpable world from the spiritual world is just bad theology. It is OK to be “in” the world, even if we aren’t supposed to be “of” it. It is OK to be a part of culture in a non-pious context — in fact, it’s good to be involved in this way. How else are we going to show the love of God to the skeptics, to the people averse to church or Christianity?

I originally saw the Bloomberg article on Iconia.

Been out of town the past ten plus days, hence the lack of new material here. Attended my brother’s wedding and sister’s graduation. Here are a couple of photos representative of the trip:

We drive home tomorrow and I’m glad there’s nothing travel-related on the schedule at this point until December. It’s been a very busy Spring.

Tim Jones over at Old World Swine responded to a commenter’s comments in his most recent post, The Nekkid Truth, Too. The conversation touched on some thoughts I’ve had in the last couple years, but up to this point had yet to put down. I’m using his entry as inspiration, thus, and putting the keys to the html editor.

Let’s get started with this statement from The Nekkid Truth:

God made us men to be attracted to the female form (I consider it his best work, the pinnacle of physical creation), so that is something to accept and to be grateful for. To acknowledge the attraction and the beauty is no sin, in itself.

The commenter is, through the course of the post, expressing a desire to appreciate masterful works of art which include nudity. However, he struggles with this on account of men’s predilection towards lust, the most common affliction of the fallen male.

The question that burns me personally is how, as a fallen male, do I distinguish admiration from something more perverse? Can I? Is there a black and white line marking the difference between, in Jones’ words, the desire to “possess” a woman and thinking — in overly simplified terms — “She’s gorgeous!” Do men possess the ability to admire without lusting?

As a man and an artist intrinsically interested in all things aesthetic, all ideas and ideals of beauty, this question intrigues me to no end. And I realize, however unfortunate for my own mental well-being, there may not be an end to wrangling with these questions in this mortal life. I struggle interminably with whether or not I can have a pure thought at all, often wondering if everything that goes through my mind related to the female physique isn’t tainted. I constantly reassure myself that this is not the case, but the concern doesn’t go away. Can a man actually think about a woman in a way, however mild, that isn’t perverse? (And I don’t ask this solely in the context of sexuality, although this is the greatest temptation.). Some people may think this last question is a bit off the rocker, but I would counter by suggesting that none of us really know what is Holy well enough to determine what thoughts in our human minds may or may not be completely pure.

Last year my wife and I visited with friends recently returned from a vacation in Singapore. They talked about how it is illegal, against the written law, for men to ogle at women in that country. While he genuinely appreciated the attempt at a modest culture — and thoroughly enjoyed his visit to such a law-abiding society — our friend also understood the problems with trying to legislate such things. He likened what he saw to a police state.

I long to view all of God’s creation with the eye that He intended. Laws, such as those apparently in effect in Singapore, will not change the fallen mind. They will not allow me or anyone else to overcome human tendencies to pervert, basically, everything we think or do. While my attitude may come across as a bit fatalistic, let me assure you that I still strive for and hope to see as much of the glory of God’s creation — including the female form — before I die. This pursuit constantly drives my work in the studio, even if it isn’t obvious in the forms or titles of my sculpture.

Adding: As Jim points out in the first comment, the Titian above is worth some commentary: “The clothed woman is believed to represent earthly vanity and materialistic love, the nude to represent higher, pure love. A casual observer might think it was the other way around.” See a few more details on Wikipedia.

See my other entries dealing with women and beauty via this link.