I am equally passionate about fine art and craft, about decoration and abstraction. I am equally thrilled to think about and be involved in architecture, interior design, crafts and the tactile arts.

What I mean by architecture is the design and execution of structures such as homes, offices and civic buildings. Architecture is a very “well-rounded” profession requiring knowledge of a wide variety of disciplines and crafts. Successful design and execution of structures makes use of craft and decoration.

What I mean by interior design is the design and execution of interior spaces, making use of finish materials (wall coverings, floor coverings, moldings) and furniture. Architecture and interior design often overlap. Successful interior design makes use of craft and decoration.

When I refer to the tactile arts, I am referring to paintings, sculptures, ceramics, prints (as in printmaking, not digital reproductions) and so on. These are commonly referred to as the fine arts as well. I specifically refer to them as the tactile arts to distinguish digital art from hand-made, three dimensional art. The tactile arts regularly make us of decoration, and hopefully employ good craft.

What I mean by craft is “to make or manufacture an object with skill and careful attention to detail.”

I write all of this in a manner of thinking out loud. I don’t personally know how to reconcile my interest in so many distinct visual activities. I would love to find a way to be equally involved in all of them, designing homes — inside and out, working in my studio to create both abstract sculpture and functional furniture. Could I make such a thing financially viable, make it into a business? Would I want to?

Last night I listened to a discussion among friends. They pondered out loud the definition of art, the importance of craft and the validity of abstraction. It was pointed out that Frank Lloyd Wright’s wonderful designs were often poorly executed. Craft is vital. In culture today craft is second class. Whether on account of our impatience, profit-driven mass manufacturing or an imprudent priority given to concept over product, objects in America these days are more often than not cheaply made. I’d like to see this change in the midst of good design, great concepts. I’d like to see well-built, enduring architecture and furniture, with imaginative and prophetic sculpture and painting on the walls and in the yards of homes and public structures.

And I’d like to be a part of that renaissance, somehow.

Over the last year or so I’ve come to realize how different our perception of artists is from reality. The film Frida, about the life of painter Frida Kahlo, sparked this revelation. I remember the first time I saw a Kahlo painting, in a poetry writing class during college. I was put off at the time, to say the least, even as an art student in a public university. Had I at the time been given some background information on the artist, her paintings would have made sense. Their visceral nature would have been tempered with the knowledge that she suffered physically in many of the ways she depicted on the canvas.

A week or so ago I wrote briefly about Makoto Fujimura’s recent blog post dealing with Vincent van Gogh. Normally, van Gogh is regarded as a modern artistic genius, afflicted with stereotypical artist-slash-genius afflictions; in other words, he was kinda crazy. And then there’s that bit about him cutting off his ear.

What we don’t know — even me with an art degree — is that he came from a very religious family. He wanted to be a priest, but was denied the priesthood by the Dutch church for being too uneducated (he only knew five languages). He was sent as a missionary to a mining community in Belgium. He likely suffered from some unidentified mental illness, which explains the mood swings that caused people to think of him as crazy. And his style, his application of paint to the canvas, was a reflection of his appreciation for Japanese wood cuts.

I took five art history classes as an undergrad: Art Historty Survey I and II, History of Photography, Roman Art and Archeology and History of Architecture. I never learned details like this, details that significantly influence how a person looks at a work of art. Yes, a painting or sculpture possesses merit in and of itself. We don’t need to know the personal history of the artist in order to say “That’s a good painting.” While such knowledge may not necessarily lend additional meaning to his individual pieces, such details do make a work of art infinitely more interesting.

Rembrandt
The Nativity (etching) 1654

Albrecht Dürer (1471-152
The Nativity, 1503 (woodcut)

I’ve been wanting to post the last week but, obviously, haven’t. I’m working on a draft that I just can’t get the wording the way I want it to be, and thus haven’t published it yet. I really need to get back to the JBU gallery again, where Sandra Bowden’s personal collection of prints are on display. Among them are a really beautiful (though small) Rembrandt and a Picasso. I’m disappointed I didn’t make it to the opening; I used to be on the mailing list, where I received a post card alerting me to new shows. For some reason I’ve not been able to get back on that list, despite multiple attempts. The show gives an overview of the last 500 years in printmaking.

Duties surrounding our continued attempt to sell our home have taken up time lately, keeping me from working in my studio. And of course this week is Thanksgiving, and we’re hosting! Hopefully next week things will have settled down some and I’ll have the garage (aka “studio”) in working order, able to get back to creating.

Of course, after Thanksgiving comes the Christmas parties . . . 

The following are a few places to find some nice, artsy and/or handmade Christmas gifts:

mLee Fine Art: Woodblock prints

MissionaryArts.com, linking to my favorite page on the site, paintings by Xiaoyang Galas including this piece:

ElegantScarf, for handmade scarves and accessories.

Porcelain by Kim Westad, delicate and unique pottery.

A few of my own sculptures are for sale via this link. As well, if you see something in my portfolio or on my Flickr that you’d like let me know!

While moving things from my old studio space (becoming a third bedroom as we try and sell our house) to the garage (becoming my cluttered new ceramics studio slash woodshop) I decided to photograph some of my old work as I went along.

This first piece was inspired by geese. It’s titled “Peace is.” Walking across campus as a student, often after dark, I looked up and saw geese silhouetted against an overcast sky — the overcast sky reflecting the dull orange city light. I liked this imagery.

The second image is a woodcut I did after a sketch of a pipe organ on the Concordia University campus in Seward, Nebraska. I titled this one “Quiet.” It’s not the best of woodcuts, but I must like it as I don’t keep all that many things around for so long, this work being about 8 years old. I grew up listening to the dirge-like noise of electric organs in fundamental churches which left a bad taste in my mouth. In college I dated a girl at Concordia, however, who introduced me to actual pipe organs. I learned to love the instruments — the real instrument, the one with pipes and air — then and still appreciate it today.

I only took one printmaking class in college, and haven’t really toyed around with the process since. I do like the process, however, and wouldn’t mind — if by some miracle time and finances allowed in the future — to mess around with it again.