Happiness does not come from wanting to be somewhere else. Happiness comes from finding beauty and a stimulation or interest in the everyday surroundings in which you find yourself.
Image Journal featured artist John Frame in their last newsletter. Frame’s work is fascinating, and slightly disturbing, and in an interview he says a couple of things I felt the need to respond to in some form or fashion.
The subject matter of art can be anything that the artist chooses. The content however will always and only be who the artist has made him or herself into.
There is a lot of truth in this statement. I’ve said before, particularly when talking about painter Thomas Kinkade, that the subject matter of art is not something I’ll debate with an artist. I may not appreciate every subject, I may not be drawn into every subject, but subject matter is up to the artist. Frame’s point about content being separate from subject matter is not something that I’ve considered, at least not using those terms.
Subject: An object, scene, incident, etc., chosen by an artist for representation
Content: Something that is to be expressed through some medium, as speech, writing, or any of various arts
In general I think of the subject of a work of art as a tool for conveying what Dictionary.com suggests as the content (more commonly referred to, it seems to me, as the message or meaning). Frame’s comment about content seems to born out of Modernism, which commonly glorifies the individual. Curiously though, his observation seems somewhat aloof — if I can make this kind of judgment based such a brief video interview. For some reason, the comment comes across as academic more than personal.
This is an age-old debate really, one that is not a stranger to The Aesthetic Elevator. How much of the artist should come through in a work? Is serious artwork self-expressive or reserved? Is the content of a painting negated by the raucous lifestyle of of the painter?
We expect each artist to have his or her own style. We each work a little bit differently. We each respond to inspiration around us in our own way. Each artist has their own process. We each come from different roots that color our approaches, our choices on subject matter and so forth. Each artist has a different passion that will show up over time in their style. But is this, “who the artist has made him or herself into,” really what amounts to content, the meaning of a work? Frame talks about meaning a little later in the interview.
When people ask what the work is about, the real answer is that it isn’t about anything and that’s not to say that it’s meaningless rather than it carries its meaning in its own way and on its own terms. And I really think the only way to understand that meaning is by looking and letting go of thinking.
Again there is truth in what the artist says, but I can’t agree wholeheartedly. I’m not going to argue with an artist about whether or not there is intended meaning in a work. That’s for the artist alone to know, and share if he likes. Of course, content, meaning, comes through regardless of an artist’s intentions. I appreciate Frame’s emphasis on looking, but I’m not certain why letting go of thinking needs to be part of viewing art.
I do agree that our own roots, preconceptions, baggage as it were impede looking. If he means that we should let go of or carefully moderate these sometime hindrances while viewing a sculpture or painting I agree. If he’s suggesting that we should check our intellect at the door of the gallery, I disagree.
Still, it’s a good interview and fascinating interactive sculpture. Have a look.
One of the things that makes central Nebraska really unique is the Spring migration of the Sandhill Cranes. All sorts of events go on during the month of March in response to the roughly 500,000 cranes descending on the Platte River Valley. Earlier this week my wife and I enjoyed the opening reception of Stuhr Museum’s annual Wings Over the Platte exhibit.
It’s quite a good show, worth seeing if you’re in the area. I was glad to see acquaintance Doug Johnson getting Best of Show. His recent work is going in a creative and wonderfully unexpected direction, which is sometimes lacking in Midwestern art shows. Another fascinating piece was the mixed media (but mostly ceramic) wall sculpture by Cody Jean Carson Brown pictured to the right.
However, the most interesting thing at the exhibit was not visual. It was the bio/artist statement from featured artist Jason Jilg.
Born and raised in Broken Bow, [Nebraska], Jason could not leave the Great Plains fast enough. The world pulled with all its exotic lands and cultures, so Jason joined the Navy and traveled the world to see these locations . . .
. . . If I were given the choice of traveling Europe or some location in the American Plains, I’d probably pick the Plains . . . This part of America that is “in between.” In between the American West, American South and the very different American Midwest in terms of not only geography, but also time, place and memory.
This is interesting to me, if you haven’t figured it out yet, as yet another validation of the plains, the prairie: Lampooned by so much of America, loved by so many that have taken the time to observe it.
Jason’s photography is some of the better photography I’ve seen in recent memory. The exhibit wasn’t perfect; it lacked a focal point as a whole and some of the prints were pushed a little too far — a la Ansel Adams. But it’s obvious Jilg possesses the necessary skills to excel at the craft. He’s careful about choosing and composing his subject matter and uses the frame very well. His sense of scale shooting on the prairie as a subject is also very acute. I’m looking forward to seeing more of his images in the near future.
Suggest you read this post: By blogging buddy Tim Jones over at Old World Swine, where he begins to take his own advice for a change.
Get some new glasses: Both me and my wife are on our backup pairs, so-to-speak. We had a place we liked to go down in Arkansas, where we were treated very well. Finding new places for such service after moving is always a pain. Regardless, I have my eye on ProDesign Denmark’s model 9902.
Jimmy Horn ledgerboard titled Lone Ranger
Read this book: Featured recently on NPR, A Time to Keep Silence (New York Review Books Classics) by Patrick Leigh Fermor is a book I need to read soon, and it’s short enough that I could actually finish it in a reasonable amount of time
Listen to this music: Sufjan Steven’s recent album All Delighted People has been getting stuck in my head, in a good way. I also want to acquire Over the Rhine’s new album and some of Helen Sung’s jazz.
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I received a few books for Christmas including The Kiln Book — on how to build kilns — and Asphalt Nation
by Jane Holtz Kay. I’ve begun reading Asphalt Nation and, not surprisingly, it’s pretty captivating.
Advent and Christmas (and, for many, New Years) are times of reflection. Do certain technologies hinder our ability for introspection, extrospection, observation? From the book:
Why can’t we step back and see the servant become the master? Why have we failed to see the consequences of the car’s mischief, its down-right malice to community life and autonomy for many? Media theorist Mark Crispin Miller, in analyzing television, that other so-called technological servant, has speculated that the medium is so integral to the ambient culture that we can no longer isolate ourselves to gain a perspective on our place within its landscape. There is just no surveillance point from which to stand aloof and view the impact of television’s toll. The analogy with the automobile holds. The world through the windshield and the world through the television window alike isolate us from our surroundings.
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Exploring the visual arts, architecture and community planning in the context of American culture and the Christian faith — towards a well-considered visual environment.
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