Exercise 1.2 Black and white

 

Time:

Total time: 6 Hours

Preparing card: 1 hour

Prepare 10 postcard size pieces of card, 5 black and 5 white.

I discovered postcard size is A6 so found some thin white card and cut it with a Stanley knife, using a folded piece of A4 card to mark up rather than measuring. You have to hold the metal ruler down really hard to stop it slipping.

Next, I chose poster paint to paint the grounds as it’s nicer to use but discovered it doesn’t have the same opacity as acrylic so had to do three coats.

The first coat in black with a round brush gave some very interesting results as the brush-marks were preserved in the paint.

One coat:

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If this was on a big enough canvas I could almost hang it on my wall.

It reminded me of grasses and some Saatchi Art online paintings, or paintings you get in John Lewis that go well with your interior decoration. I could imagine if you used colours with a house brush you could get some really interesting results. I guess for oils or acrylic you’d have to add some kind add additive?

I don’t know if any serious abstract artist (rather than interior decoration art) has used this process? But, with my ‘do stuff to earn a living’ head on, better than a day job and pays for my art, this might be something to come back to?

Two coats:

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The tonal differences are less, but still interesting.

However, it’s not a black ground so I gave it a third coat (and on the principal that the white looked okay but probably had the same problems, gave that another two coats).

As I wanted to get on, I used a big flat brush for the third coat and loaded it with paint.

3rd coat:

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Here the brushstrokes have gone, but it’s still a bit blotchy. Which is a lesson, as I think one coat of acrylic would probably have given me an even coat.

Again, it exemplifies the different properties of the different mediums.

However, for this exercise I’m going to accept that as black.

Paintings:

Generally in the exercise book the instructions are unclear to very unclear (I think the whole book could be re-written and then tested by some students) so as ever it’s a case of making my best guess.

I’m going to take 5 found images and then paint one black card and one white card with each given medium.

Just found these…

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Which are much thicker and stronger than the thin card I used for the poster paint so am going to paint them with acrylic. This might be sacrilidge, and maybe the poster paint would have adhered better to watercolour paper than shiny card? But I can’t follow every option and have got to keep this in bounds.

As expected the acrylic covered with one coat… surprisingly, given the thickness of the card, it curled, but should flatten when it dries.

I don’t know which I’ll use? The shiny acrylic on thick paper (more stable)… or the thinner matt poster paint. I might pick and choose?

Painting ten ‘cards’: 5 hour so far…

1 and 2: (black ink)… I’m going to use the poster paint ground as I think the ink might not ‘take’ on the shiny acrylic and I want to be able to use all the tones. If I find the ink pulls the poster paint off the card I’ll switch to acrylic.

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I don’t know if I love this or hate it? It’s certainly unexpected.

I painted this with just undiluted ink getting the tonal changes by leaving areas blank and overlaying others with two or three coats to get a deeper black.

The black Africa confuses the reading but I think it has movement and looks a little like an etching.

Now on white poster paint…

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Bits of this work quite well but some of the shape is wrong like on the outstretched arm. And the white poster paint bled into the watery ink (not into the concentrated ink) which gave me a grey. I decided to use the ‘accident’ and use it as a technique.

The result is that some bits are worked too much, but others work very well.

Ironically, and it’s the same lesson again, the shirt with creases works well and this wasn’t worked but done very quickly and intuitively.

I found the small size hard and the pieces of card moved around, so if I was working on this professionally rather than an exercise I’d have to find a way of securing my ground.

3 and 4: (black acrylic paint)… I’m going to use the poster paint here too but this time because the slight tonal, textural and reflective differences between the matt poster paint and shiny acrylic I should have more to work with.

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I don’t feel this has worked… though the photograph looks nothing like the painting.

To hold and feel it looks/feels like an old negative. And it constantly changes depending on where the light source is.  Maybe some paintings are better as ‘sculptures’ or ‘transitory’ art and need to be handled. The only problem is they wouldn’t last long and how do you earn a living from that?

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I tried a different approach to painting this and started with the small figure first trying to imagine I was looking at these two small children playing and capture the spirit of movement and depth in a small space, neither of which come across in the photograph which is beautifully taken but ‘frozen’.

I think I’ve been partially successful as the bigger size and hard black line on the nearer child’s raincoat puts them nearer to me and gives a sense of depth; the eye also starts to move between the two children.

And even though the drawing on the distant child is not as accurate as I did when I was more careful this has captured something of the joy and fun, and self-absorption, of the children that the earlier painting didn’t.

5 and 6: (white gouache)… I’ll try the acrylic – if it doesn’t stick on the shiny surface  I’ll go onto the poster paint. But gouache has glue in it so it should be okay?

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White on white, even though these whites are very different, is very difficult to read and I found myself trying to build up the gouache into impasto.

You might be able to make a ghostly image which would be ideal for something, but I don’t feel gouache is a natural candidate for impasto.

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This was very interesting as it’s a negative to the Mondrian but doesn’t seem to read as a negative, it reads in the same way.

I’m quite please with this as although the drawing is not accurate on the arms, they’re too short. I like the way the right arm rests on the leg and tilts the body… if I were working on this some more I would lesson the shading under the right elbow as it’s too wide/doesn’t work.

However, this is beginning to take on a character of its own and I’m very pleased with that.

I’ll mention it now, as I’ve just thought of it, and at the end in my notes. But I haven’t noticed the absence of colour at all, which give my love of colour, I find really weird. Maybe I’m picking up on the tonal differences in the colour as much as the hue?

7 and 8: (white acrylic paint)… I’ll try it on the acrylic, so I have a comparison with the acrylic on poster paint.

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This is not as awful as I thought… I think the brushstrokes are more effective than the impasto.

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I’m quite pleased with this especially the neck and shirt. They have an almost physical quality which I like, they’re obviously painted but have got a presence.

The face isn’t quite the right shape, it’s slightly too long and top part of the face is angled back, but parts of it are beginning to work… (I enjoyed doing this)… it’s like lights flickering on and off. It almost comes to life and then it dies.

But it definitely potential, and I like the combination. Something about the physical and textural quality of the black and white working together is very satisfying. Though from a ‘curator’ aspect I guess you’d have to varnish it to protect the poster paint and stop the sunlight bleaching the pigment which I guess is poor quality.

It’s weird but doing all these small paintings is helping me to get back into drawing and giving me more confidence.

9 and 10: (grey acrylic)… Just for the heck of it I’m going to use one each of the backing, the white poster paint and black acrylic ground.

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The tonal range is reduced by using grey/white rather than black white… but the poster paint dissolved in some of the thinner back acrylic and gave me more tonal options.

I’m quite pleased how the boat stands out, the clouds/smoke and the layering of the grey to make darker marks in the water. This is an example of media working together and how your technique changes: for example if the white had been acrylic I couldn’t have ‘dissolved’ it into the grey acrylic.

Lots of things wrong with this but as a quick sketch it’s okay… I think the best bit is that it captures a distance between the boat and the buildings.

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I tried to dilute the acrylic and layer it to give me a range of tones to work with. This has partially worked but parts of it are a bit blocky, and I’ve all but lost the boat. It’s not as effective as the acrylic poster paint combination.

The very thin grey acrylic pooled or spotted the surface and didn’t take any shape, such as smoke, but the thicker grey merged into one tone.

It’s got something but the techniques I tried using are not as effective as the last painting because of the combination of mediums.

Brief notes:

I made extensive notes as I went along, I find this helps me reflect and focus my learning, so these notes are going to be brief.

  1. Black and white..

I think my biggest surprise was how much I enjoyed working in black and white and how little I missed colour.

There is a clarity, sculptural quality and strength to black and white (and tones in between) that is very appealing. And I almost see the colours, I certainly see the 3D ness, which is a bit weird. It’s made me think maybe part of my love of colours comes from the tonal and saturation differences rather than the hue.

2) Acrylic…

Another surprise was how, after using acrylics for a year and seeing them as something I’d always and only use, I can now see their faults. They are one medium with strengths and weaknesses rather than THE medium: they don’t smell, are bright, dilute in water and dry quickly… but they dry on the palette as you paint so flow is a problem, they dry darker which is a problem for matching colours and re-mixing the same colour and they mix in a funny gluey way, once painted they are fixed forever after a few minutes and they have a very unique way of going onto the canvas.

3) Ground…

The ground medium combination affects your painting and technique. It has made me realise that different grounds/mediums are tools for doing a job and some will do a job better than others, so you need to pick the appropriate ones.

 

The Invisible Dragon by David Hickey

Downloaded 56 pages from the UCA website on how to Harvard reference everything… so starting to practice so I’m ready for my essay later in the year.

Hickey, David (2012) The Invisible Dragon: essays on beauty, revised and expanded. (Paperback) United States of America: University of Chicago Press.

Hickey examines the role of beauty in art in five essays.

I didn’t understand a lot of his language, and many of his references were lost as I didn’t know the authors, books or theories he was quoting, but I got his general drift, and agree with it.

His fundamental premise is that the surface of a painting (unlike the painting itself which is a thing… like a chair) is a sign. And that this sign operates in the same way as language in that it refers to something other than itself, so the word tree refers to a tree, but isn’t a tree itself, so a painting of a tree refers to a tree, but isn’t a tree itself.

The thing that the sign refers to is the meaning.

He then splits this meaning into directed meaning and embedded meaning.

Directed meaning in a painting is the painter’s intention (or the intention he was paid to convey by the church iconographer or patron) , this is what the painting was designed, or directed, to transmit. For instance the directed meaning of Napoleon crossing the alps on a mighty steed is that he is heroic, handsome and noble… a mighty general and ruler.

However, paintings also have embedded meaning, or negotiated meaning, where the viewer compares the painting to similar paintings, and his wider knowledge of similar things, and gives the painting a new meaning. So, in the case of Napoleon’s painting, we might say the painting shows us how figures of power have always manipulated their public images, and this might lead us to look at Napoleon’s weaknesses, and how he crossed the alps on a donkey.

The embedded meaning is therefore a new meaning given to the painting by the viewer, in effect they create a new directed meaning. The painting hasn’t changed but its meaning has.

In most cases Hickey says meaning is a mixture of directed and embedded meaning.

He discusses how beauty is the key to selling an idea in that it overwhelms the viewer by treating them as an equal (painter, viewer and painting are equal) and rewarding them with pleasure. The viewer ‘enters’ the painting and is then open to whatever meaning the painting contains. If this is an idea that government doesn’t approve of it finds it threatening.

He also explores how in democratic civilisations collective meaning and social identities (in the absence of fundamentalist ideology which previously gave societies shared values) are created around beauty. We draw each others attention to beauty and discuss what it means, communities of like-minded thinkers coaless around beauty and form small and large communities. As individuals and societies we are defined by what we like and the values we share around those things.

So, when your citizenry start ignoring your message (they don’t see your king as glorious) and start making up their own meanings (embedded meaning) such as your king is a weak liar, or take up what you {the government} consider dangerous ideas, such as free love espoused in Picasso’s The Three Dancers, you see that as a danger. Ideas are dangerous, especially when taken up by the wealthy and powerful, so the government seeks to preserve the directed meaning and banish the embedded meaning.

Governments can do this in three ways:

  1. Disenfranchise the citizen – which would be suicide in a democratic capitalist society.
  2. Put out the theory that anything beautiful has bad ideas and everything ugly has good ideas and therefore connect the idea of beauty to mental weakness and ugliness to mental strength.

Quite effective but obviously bonkers, and totally cynical, given the history of art and how beauty was used to sell royal and religious propoganda for hundreds of years.

3. You control the directed meaning by creating an artistic beaurocracy. This works by giving out prizes, buying artwork for museums and creating a false market fuelled by taxpayers money and controlled by the government. Commercial dealers are only concerned with selling artworks to the highest bidder, which is usually beautiful art, and don’t care about ideas.

This beaurocracy says that meaning has primacy over form… that the form doesn’t matter… that the only thing that matters is the directed meaning. Therefore beauty doesn’t matter. The beaurocracy (critics/museums/academic art/universities/public art) then decides what the meanings are and which meanings are important. The viewer loses all their power as they are now not equal but submissive to the art critic (expert) telling them what is good art, what the meaning is. The directed meaning is then fixed and secure.

And because the form doesn’t matter beauty doesn’t matter, what matters is the critic’s opinion.

This made me think of football. Pep Guardiola the manager of Man City is highly skilled and meaning coaleses around his beautiful football team… the spectators (viewers) all have an opinion about how Pep should manage his team so communities of meaning form around the beautiful football team. But it’s as if the government suddenly said we are going to do away with beautiful managers, from now on everybody can be a manager. It doesn’t matter how good your team is as it’s not about how beautifully they play, it’s about your opinion on football (your directed meaning). You would then have the position where everybody could be a manager (just like if no skill or beauty is involved in painting everybody can be an artist). And because there are no beautiful football teams there would be no focal points of beauty for communities of opinion to form around. The beaurocracy then decides which of these millions of managers has the best ideas and pays them.

The public is effectively disenfranchised and directed meaning maintained. In art, the few artists selected by the gatekeepers are promoted to a demigod like status with the art critics explaining their ideas to the uninitiated, unskilled, general public… in dense opaque texts, the new priestly caste.

It doesn’t matter if a few rich collectors buy beautiful art, or the general public like beautiful landscapes… or ‘sentimental’ paintings.

For years the status quo was the the church and monarchy outsourcing their propoganda to highly skilled artists making beautiful paintings, with the directed meaning reigning supreme… church paintings were the rock stars of their day touring round the country… but their power weakened in the Renaissance and finally broke down in the early to mid 20th century when society was flooded with beautiful art full of all sorts of radical ideas. Now, once again, directed meaning is being reasserted by the ruling classes.

Beautiful art, like Shakespeare in the theatre, is always dangerous as it gets taken up years later with a new embedded meaning to fight another cause.

An example from music (and I don’t think popular music is controlled) is where President Trump took a beautiful (left-wing song) and played it at a rally to support right-wing politics. He took the emotion and words, the beauty, out of context and made it serve his cause. The singer took out an injunction to try to stop him.

Another example is Shakespeare where every generation gives his plays new embodied meanings for their age. Or biblical scholars who constantly reinterpret the bible to find embedded meanings to suit the changing times. The primacy of the original directed meaning is counter intuitive, it’s not how life works.

In contrast ugly art is forgotten, which makes the primacy of meaning housed in ugly unskilled work doubly effective. It won’t be revived and reinterpreted in the future. If you control directed meaning in ugkly work you control meaning forever.

Beauty is very skillful… and I agree with David Hickey… beauty sells. And because beauty sells ideas it’s dangerous; beautiful art has power.

Of course, you can always have decoration, beauty without meaning, but that’s not what I’m talking about here. I’m talking about beauty with meaning, where meaning can encompass the artist’s vision as well as what it is to be human..

Much of the discussion on art and painting seems to take place as if beauty is bad and meaning is the only thing that matters. But by banishing beauty and telling us what art means (rather than letting us engage with it as an equal) we are destroying it. To be told what a painting means is not to look at a work of art, it is to be given a lecture.

PS: Just read a Guardian article on the Sotherby’s exhibition of 25 Bauhaus paintings 20-26 Feb 2019. This reminded me Hickey also introduced me to the intrinsic/extrinsic value of paintings.

Intrinsic value is the value of the wood, canvas and paint… so, under £100.

The extrinsic value is the ‘external’ value given to the painting by society. The amount of oo… errr… that’s beautiful factor which builds up over time and makes a branded painting by a famous artist worth £15 million. It made me think that extrinsic value can either come from the beauty and meaning of public art (the traditional art market where the viewer is equal to the painter and painting) or ‘… the idea of a hierarchy governing what is most important in art.” (From the Guardian review of the exhibition – I have stuck the article in my log book) – which is the extrinsic value created by the recognition of institutional art market, where the museums and and critics tell the viewer which are the best works of art and what they mean.

PPS: Another little insight… this time from 1001 Paintings to see before you die talking about Old Elms in Prater (1831) by Ferdinand Georg Walmuller says how Vienna entered a period of government oppression and censorship after Napoleon’s death in 1815. This caused artists to move away from high concept art to low concept domestic non political subjects such as family portraits, genre paintings and landscapes. And that this was further fuelled by the the rising market of moneyed middle classes.

This makes me think of today when ‘beautiful’ low concept art is tolerated, but high concept art is rigidly controlled, quality checked and sanitised, (it is not banned but because beauty has been removed and the directed meaning controlled any populist danger has been removed) by the institutions of the government funded art market.

 

 

Branding and critical bias

1851: Value plummeted (though it enhanced reputation of women painters because it was wrongly assigned for so long… they must be better than ‘men’ thought) when reassigned from David to one of his female students (the painting hadn’t changed)… the critics then started seeing feminine elements, so they re-positioned it.

What it shows:

(1) Early example of value of the brand… ie) David’s much stronger than Charpentier – so artistic./social and financial value not intrinsic to aesthetic qualities of the painting but extrinsic to the public classification.

(2) That artistic dialogue and criticism coalesces around a consensus and is not honest/objective. It would have been possible for critics to say that although this is assigned to David it unique in that it has feminine qualities but criticism change to reflect status quo… raises questions about the role of criticism.

(3) When I saw it did not look anything like a David painting, much more romanticized, the style was completely different… so why didn’t the ‘experts’ see it?

As students we should trust and be honest to our own judgement not follow consensus for consensus sake.

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Part 1: Using found images; Exercise 1.1: Using found images.

Time spent:

Total: 16 hours

Brief: 1 hour

Preparing surfaces: 2 hours

Picking found images: (Not recorded – they just came together over about a week)

Painting images: 13 hours

Brief: Use found images, the only criteria is that I like an image and want to paint it.

This is very interesting as I’ve already discovered something about myself and my relationship to images just by trying to find my found images.

I’m an actor so I searched through all my film magazines as well as postcards I’d saved over the years, museum handouts and random photographs. What I discovered was that I didn’t like any of the magazine photographs (well, one so far, and that was on a postcard) or glossy photographs, but love all the museum handouts, postcards of art and museum ephemera.

However, I think I have some reasons.

I’ve been filmed a lot over the years – both stills and film – and done a little semi professional photography and commercial photographs all look totally manufactured. They are photoshopped to death and lit from multiple unnatural angles. When a film crew have taken four hours to light a square meter of space for a beer commercial, like a 3D light sculpture, and you stand in as an actor with your clothes bulldog clipped to look just right and shiny gold paper to make your beer look attractive… you can’t take the  photograph seriously… when you have worked with an actor who looks 60 if he’s a day and they photoshop him to look 40 it makes me laugh. They are lies on glossy paper.

My personal snaps are social records to aid memory and not something I want to paint.

The postcards of art are really attractive to me, but these are already interpreted and full of artistic vision I connect with. So, I’m not sure if that counts as a found image, though there is a huge variation in the photoshopping of the original painting and the quality of the print/postcard. So I think it is a found image.

On Practice of Painting I had a revelation… I started off thinking, and feeling, copying photographs was the way to go. But by the end of the course I found the only useful photographs were ones I’d taken myself. Where I’d experienced the view and had physical and emotional memories. Other photographs were just coloured marks on shiny paper.

I discovered I needed to paint meaning.

My photographs were acting as a memory jogger, not something to copy. In short, I started Practice of Painting thinking copying a visual reality was what painting was all about but ended thinking that was about the only think it wasn’t about.

So, I shall cast my net wider and buy a stack of newspapers. These might also yield some black and white images.

I’m not going to count fine art photographs, which are achingly beautiful and full of meaning, as these are even nearer to their original form than photographs of paintings, and is a work of art a ‘found image’?

However, I had a long chat with my partner who suggested labels, which I immediately found attractive, though I can’t quite explain why. And as ephemera I think these would count.

…….

I’ve just spent six hours researching all the artists and their approaches mentioned in ‘Preparation for working with found images’.

Directly, in finding images ‘I like and would want to paint’ (which is the brief) it hasn’t helped as none of these artists painted random images they liked. They either had a theme, such as Dictators in Childhood – and then sourced the images – or used them as a tool, as Degas did by taking his own photographs of spontaneous poses.

How they used the images is more useful and has given me several ideas from Richter’s overpainted photographs to Andy Warhol’s prints via Annie Kevan’s loose and thin.

However, as if by magic, or some inexplicable osmosis it doesn’t seem a problem any more.

So I’m ready to select.

….

Preparing the surfaces:

This was fun, took much longer than I expected, and gave me some very interesting results. I’ll photograph them all – but from what I remember my biggest surprises were: how bright the poster paint was; that all the paper curled even though I used 200gm HP watercolour paper and how the very thin acrylic held the brushstrokes like Mimei Thompson.

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My found images:

It was unclear how many to find so I thought I’d start with 20 for my 20 pieces of paper.

(I found putting these in a mosaic very interesting as I started finding connections and can see how you could have lots of fun, and tell different stories by changing the order.)

 

 

Painting images:

I decided to add a random element and mix up my backgrounds then go through the list of colours in the exercise book, which I’d alternated 3,2,3,2… (to give me 20) and allocated the mediums. This way I wasn’t second guessing and which was best for which picture and would get more experimentation. My found images were also randomly mixed.

For instance I started with three black paintings, one with watercolour, one acrylic and one poster paint. Then picked the first prepared background and first found images off their piles.

As I’ll forget I’m going to make very brief notes as I go. I’ve allowed 30 minutes per painting to include photographing and writing up.

(1) Black watercolour on thinned acrylic. Monet…

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I was worried as this was multicoloured and much of the effect (I thought) was to do with colour)… but I discovered even though the cathedral and the water are black if you change your brushstrokes it differentiates them. Then if you add short brushstrokes you can differentiate water.

Watercolour is a revelation, I’ve never used it freely before.

You can thin it… or apply it thick… you can build up layers over dry paint, or wet in wet, and this changes the ‘mass’ or density of what you’re painting. And by using your brush in different ways I managed to approximate the sky.

I know it’s a bit of fun but I’m amazed how versatile watercolour is and how effective this is. I didn’t have any expectations when I started.

(2) Black acrylic on thinned watercolour. Photograph of Freddie Mercury from the film.

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I don’t want to be flippant but this medium thing is great. And even then I overworked this… But, the acrylic had totally different properties from the watercolour.

It took much longer to dry, you couldn’t pull it off once you’d painted it, it thinned differently, it went on the paper differently, it set into the paper immediately it touched it, as soon as it was dry you could paint over it without smudging or lifting… if it was a person you’d be talking to a different friend… it has a different personality from watercolour.

I’m amazed how effective this is given how unrealistic and loose the image is, and how quickly I painted it. That’s a big thing for me to learn.

I mainly used a single big brush, for the size of paper, because I was working so quickly, but I think the size and type of brush would give you lots of options, as well as how you used them.

Suddenly, it’s like I’m starting to learn to paint all over again.

I like it.

3) Poster paint on thin black ink. Black and white photograph of Roma from glossy booklet promoting the film. Two children catching rain in cups.

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I didn’t think I’d capture anything with black on black but the thin black ink is grey, so gives me a tonal range when compared to the black. Working with a limited tonal range is interesting, this was a technique used by Whistler on some of his prints, and it shows just how much information tonal changes convey and how subtle we are at reading them.

I worked quickly and corrected as I went which is all captured, but if I could do this first time it would be a valid technique.

The ink is fixed so I didn’t have any problem with any of the background moving.

It’s funny, there are bits of this that are working quite well, and have captured the feel of children playing. What I’m learning is how forgiving the eye/brain is and how little information it needs to make a picture. And it’s not necessarily the bits I reworked but a bold fluid stroke that just worked first time.

4) White acrylic on white poster paint. Black and white photograph of Roma from glossy booklet promoting the film. Lead woman crossing an Italian street.

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Although this doesn’t read as a woman walking across a busy street it was great to work on and I learned some important things.

As you haven’t got colour or any tone to speak of you have to rely on the surface texture to transmit your message, how shiny it is and it’s ‘3D’ ness. This pushed me to paint impasto and also to think about detail.

Acrylic is very unforgiving and messy as it holds its shape once you put it on so it’s very difficult to overpaint mistakes and your marks become confusing.

The other thing that struck me was the role of detail and ‘tightness’ in a painting, as this forced me to abandon both… what began to happen was that I was ‘feeling’ the woman. Not exactly sculpting but trying to draw shapes of mass and fluid lines of movement.

A very different way of relating to the painting but one which I could imagine some artists relishing.

On looking again, this is not awful, awful… it does have some merits: as the ghostly shapes emerge and you have to work hard to recreate the scene which gives you a different kind of engagement with the canvas till you begin to ‘see’ it. But not in an exterior, looking at a photograph kind of way, in an actually walking across a street kind of way!

5) White gouache on black gouache. Black and white photograph of Roma from glossy booklet promoting the film. The director Alfonso Cuarón at work.

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In theory this should give me the complete tonal range as I have black to white.

This was very complicated to work on as the gouache started to dry, so I had to constantly alter its consistency, and the black gouache started to dissolve and bleed into the white.

Annoyingly the bits I worked quickest on are the most effective, like the bricks. this seems to be a consistent message that’s coming through. Working quickly and confidently and the power of confident brushstrokes.

I like the tonal spread across his jacket, the white/black on the right and the greys on the left are very effective.

His face isn’t quite right, I accidentally overpainted it and had to redo it which didn’t help. But there are elements that work. And it’s just struck me that you can give different blocks of the painting different tonal identities, like his head… which is a bit abstract but is maybe something I could play with in future. The highlight/lines on the head are too much.

I sort of knew this, but seeing in light and dark is almost as important as seeing in colour.

6) Watered down watercolour and grey poster paint. Julian Trevelyn self-portrait, colour.

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The yellow watercolour didn’t lift like the gouache, it only lifted when I removed some of the grey and rubbed it with a wet brush.

This whole exercise is lots of fun…

The grey and yellow make a really spooky combination. I would never, ever have thought of this… and it’s different from black, the grey does something. I used a big brush for this, and a couple of smaller brushes, just to see what would happen… the different brushes give you different options with the big brush making some really interesting background marks.

The jacket works really well.

I know this is copied from a Julian Trevelyn catalogue, so he’s done 99.99% of the work, but it’s actually remarkably effective. In terms of this course if I’d decided to paint a minor coming out of the pit, dehumanized, grimy… the human cost of our energy… an industry that should be a fossil… I might have chosen this combination.

I didn’t, it was a pure accident, but I can see how choosing the right medium can enhance your message.

It also make me think how strong images can be re-interpreted and given a new meaning.

The actual painting, much to my surprise, has captured something of the original and looks remarkably like it in a weird way.

7) Varnish and grey gouache. Mondrian: Portrait of a Bearded Man

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Very interesting… I had to rub the paint in to get a wash, otherwise it went into tiny droplets. And I could wipe the gouache off the varnish and repaint… this was a mixed blessing as it meant I was tempted to overcorrect.

Funny how the thin paint keeps its brushstrokes.

I’m not sure how good a combination this is? If I could use the qualities of the paint on a shiny surface then it would enhance my painting, but I was working against the natural inclination of the medium and surface.

8) Watered down watercolour and grey acrylic. Mondrian; Portrait of a Young Woman, Seated

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Again, the watered down watercolour was amazingly fixed. The acrylic did it’s thing and once down couldn’t be lifted, but also it dries quickly so you can overlay thin layers of paint (which is what I did with the hair) to get some subtle tones.

The hand is much too dark.

Mondrian, though I love the shapes is very difficult to copy… when you start you realise just how well he understood the underlying shapes. His exaggeration/stylization is a visual language evolved out of a deep understanding of form – we intrinsically understand the face but I don’t understand his visual language… the answer would be to get a stack of paper and boldly have a go… after a couple of hundred I might just be getting the idea.

I think it’s a combination of Egyptian and Chinese.

9) Poster paint and poster paint. Pierre Bonnard – Still Life

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I loved doing this. The complexity and subtlety of colours he used yet the perfect logic and simplification. He was pure genius. He has perfectly captured the purple/blue tones to show the bowl.

I really like this, it has captured something… now if I could just do this without copying…

The poster paints were lovely to work with as they didn’t dry up and the colour didn’t darken as it dried. This made it easy to mix colours quickly. On the downside it was a bit gloopy and I had to be inventive to get the different brushstrokes I wanted.

As it was so nice to work (and cheap) with it would be good to know how colourfast the pigments are, I suspect not very… which would make curating works difficult… maybe coating with varnish that protects against UV light would prolong a painting’s life? Could I use poster paint on canvas?

I also like the way the coloured background has shown through the white and looks like a tablecloth.

As it’s produced a similar result, I wonder if oil is anything like poster paint to work with? (Apart from the hassle cleaning brushes and the smell)

10) Varnish and acrylic paint. Linocut print for Norfolk wildlife trust

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This was the opposite of the previous painting, the acrylics started to dry almost as soon as I mixed them… and the colours dried darker… which made it hard to paint.

The acrylic went on the varnish easily and seemed no different to working on a gessoed canvas, apart from the paper lets you slide the paint about.

Also, I felt like I was copying whereas with the Bonnard I felt I was painting the actual fruit. This uses a different visual language, which is interesting but not one I know. It’s very linear and full of detail, which is ironic as I’ve always thought of linocuts as ‘blocky,, but then I’ve never done one so don’t know why I would assume that… because the colours are flat?

I always try to find something I like… and am quite pleased with the shape of the swans.

11) Thinned black ink and very watered down red watercolour. Black and white newspaper photograph of The Specials 1980.

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Much to my amazement this works. Another combination I would never have put together.

You can read it’s a band on stage… you can even see the mic.

And maybe because it’s so indistinct you can paint it with colour and sound yourself.

It would need finessing but with the idea of faded memories or trying to catch a feeling of the essence of the band this is strangely effective.

12) Acrylic and very watered down blue watercolour. Julian Trevelyn Renoir gone wrong

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My first thoughts were that this was a pointless exercise (acrylic is waterproof, this is bright and the watercolour is so this it won’t mark it) and I should cheat and swap the ground… but you never know so I did it anyway.

While I was painting it I thought nothing was happening, I could see very faint lines… but I was painting ‘blind’ as I couldn’t see where I had applied the paint (and it’s quite a complicated painting).

However, when I photographed it something a little bit magical had happened. The watercolour had changed the acrylic ground. Very subtly the lines, marks and ghostly stains affected the painting. It would be going too far to say it’s beautiful, but it has the potential to be beautiful when the ground on its own was just bright and boring.

Ironically, this is one of the biggest discoveries I’ve made so far in this exercise.

13) White HP watercolour paper and very watered down yellow watercolour. Guardian photograph bees.

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I got a little mark on the paper from the table, so need to put a fresh piece of paper down, but decided not to repaint it and incorporate the accident. I don’t think it adds to the painting in any way, but equally don’t think it stops me learning any lessons that might be there.

I’m not very happy with this, maybe there was a better way of approaching it?

I went down the mass of repeated pattern, archetypal bee route.

It may be that the photograph, when I got to it, didn’t inspire me? I’ve never kept bees and though they’re very useful don’t have any connection with them. It’s another lesson in just how sensitive the canvas is to your connection to it… in the same way that tone of voice tells us lots of things the speaker doesn’t intend, so I think the canvas reveals lots of things about the artists connection to his painting.

In my, find one thing good, I may have captured a tiny bit of buzz and movement.

14) White HP watercolour paper with watered down black ink. C.S.Lowry

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It’s amazing how iconographic this is… as a thumbnail on my lap top it’s instantly recognisable as a Lowry even though I’ve only done part of the painting.

I stopped after 30 minutes as I could easily have spent another hour adding more people.

What struck me about this is what a lovely medium ink is. I’ve not used it before and was able to start getting all sorts of effects like layering and bleeding. And the tonal range is amazing, it’s almost as if I had colour.

In a funny way, it makes colour seem a bit of a gaudy distraction, I love colour, but this gives you some wonderful tonal structures.

Lowry’s people are very evocative of movement even though strictly speaking he takes lots of liberties, which teaches me, again, to go for the quick fluid brushstrokes. It’s amazing how forgiving the eye is.

I can see that if you used this medium regularly you could do amazing things with it.

15) White HP watercolour paper with thinned black ink. Black and white newspaper photograph of Don McCullin

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Lovely to work with and you could do a fantastic portrait with diluted ink if you had the skill.

I tried to loosen up and used a big brush as well as smaller brushes, but the ink is quite unforgiving and once it’s on you can’t really lighten it so if you accidentally paint over a highlight you can’t get it back.

This shows my lack of experience with this medium and lack of skill with faces but I think it also shows potential as this is recognizably Don McCullin and some bits are working well. I think the looser style is more effective.

16) Coloured gouache splodges with thinned acrylic. Photograph of frosty dawn.

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Very interesting… having thought acrylic was the ONLY medium to paint with, it now feels like painting with glue. And all its bad habits are hoving into view; quick drying on your palette, funny to mix and drying darker.

It’s like only having had one friend (your next door neighbour in your tiny village) and not seeing any of their faults and suddenly moving to the city and being introduced to a classroom full of people. Your relationship changes and you become aware of other people and their strengths and weaknesses.

As to the actual painting of this it was in two halves… 55 minutes on the background, and 5 minutes on the tracks. I’d aimed for 30 minutes a painting and set a maximum of an hour.  Yet the tracks are more effective and appealing than the rest of the painting.

Plus in painting this I noticed all sorts of things about it, such as the moon and subtle colour shifts, which in an hour I couldn’t match. Maybe layering would be a better option than mixing? The background didn’t help in the sky… but worked on the foreground, so maybe you could pre-paint a painting with different backgrounds in different parts of the painting?

17) White acrylic with thinned gouache. Photograph of Rachel (my son’s partner) in a Chinese restaurant in Manchester on Chinese new year.

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You realise when you’re trying to paint thin how much detail is in a photograph like this… not least the background. It’s all about what you don’t put in; both at all… and it terms of detail in things you do include.

I tried to work quicker than the last acrylic painting and change my style to be loose from the start, and not worry too much if things went in the wrong place.

Although I can see a lot wrong with this I’m quite pleased. In a strange way the thrust of the body is right and very bizarrely, to me at least, looks 3D. I’m also quite please with the drinks and bits on the table, especially the prawn crackers and yellowy lager.

Next time I need to change my water, use more than one brush… I thought if I used a fairly thick brush it might force me to work quick and loose. And pay more attention to my colour hygiene.

As before, I stopped at an hour. Maybe still too long but a step forward in not spending forever on a ‘quick’ painting.

(PS: I changed the composition – I missed out all the background tables – as I was fast approaching my hour. This has changed the meaning from a painting of a camera-shy woman avoiding the lens to a sad woman alone in a restaurant. And from a shared meal the viewer just arriving at the table. It’s very interesting how little and loose can convey so much.)

18) Black acrylic and thinned gouache. photograph of Rachel, this time looking the camera and sharing a joke with her partner taking the photograph.

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Oooooops!!! This took 1 hour and 50 minutes.

But a lot of strong points, a mixture of very thin and not quite so thin, but was having such a good time I didn’t want to stop the leaning.

Parts of this are really working well… the hands, the bread, the food. Faces are still difficult, and I’m mixing so quickly and working intuitively that when I stop to draw breath my palette is all mixed up and it’s difficult to find any colours to go back in. But, that said, I think my faces are slowly getting better.

And, again, the bits that have worked best are those I did quickly and loosely.

This exercise has really scuppered my boat for white canvas, but there are so many options from black through multicoloured to white that I’m now a bit lost. I think the trick is to choose the backing as carefully as the medium. White might bounce back and make colours glow, but another colour may enhance an effect or unify a colour composition.

19) Grey watercolour and varnish. Photograph of iced puddle.

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The varnish picks up the watercolour from the paper and leaves semi white bits of paper when applied heavily with a big brush, with a smaller brush the varnish leaves a dark mark. There’s also a ‘shiny’ effect depending on the light source.

This is semi interesting, though I didn’t want the paint lifting, the differences in tone allow for mark making. There is a pattern and, if you have the source photograph, you can read the puddle, stones and iced blades of grass.

As a by-product, and it’s not captured here, but the swirls in the iced puddle are really fluid and would make the basis for a great meditative abstract.

20) Grey Gouache and varnish. Found piece of drawing paper with interesting marks.

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The varnish didn’t lift the gouache at all but it did darken it considerably. This gives me a two-tone painting plus reflections… therefore I tried to use different brushes to change the brushstrokes to give it interest.

I’m not sure it’s worked as it was more interesting when I was painting it than when it dried because I could see the brushstrokes much better. However, given persistence and sufficient skill I think it would be able to create something worthwhile… so it’s worth filing away for the right painting.

………….

I have already recorded all the grounds and mediums in my log as I went along.

Which materials did you like and dislike and why?

I disliked the acrylic because it was like painting wiuth glue when compared to gouache or poster paints and because it dried so quickly that I was constantly having to adjust the flow. It also dries darker and once it’s on you can’t lift it as in seconds it’s permanent.

Mediums:

I loved poster paints as they flowed so nicely, dried the same colour and were lovely and bright.

I liked the gouache for the same reason as the poster paint, but disliked the mudiness of even the bright colours. And being opaque can be useful but it means you can’t build up washes or glazes.

I loved the diluted in as it was a joy working with so many tones… it was almost like working with colour and the effects were wonderful.

Grounds:

The different grounds were a revelation and it will be difficult to work with a white ground again unless I want to. The ground completely altered the painting and how I painted it… at the moment it’s just like having discovered a new colour. I think the choice of ground is important but I need to digest the exercise and start thinking about it for the future.

I think it’s a case of experimenting as I go along, I don’t know enough to make precise choices yet, it’s going to be more educated guesses and seeing what happens. White if I want the reflection of light back through transluscent paint to make it glow… or maybe just to make subtle colours pop a little bit… mid tones will unify a painting and give me a base tone to work against… patches may give movement under a flat wash… the possibilities are endless.

If I did this again what would I change and how would I develop it further?

I think not prejudging this exercise was the best way to go (if I’d tried to match medium to ground to image I would have missed lots of random effects which taught me that just about anything can work for the right subject) and I’ve discovered that the mediums and grounds all have very different qualities.

So, if I were doing this for the first time I’d keep the exercise the same.

I’d develop it by in three ways…

  1. By choosing a single image and painting it in a random combination of grounds and mediums. This way I’d start to discover what the different combinations brought to the image.
  2. I’d try and find the best ground and medium for my 20 images.
  3.  Finally I’d get 20 medium/ground combinations and try and find an image that was perfect for that combination.

I’d keep the scale the same.

The outcomes should improve, by being both more aesthetically pleasing and more accurately hold my meaning. And I’d start to build up a library of combinatiuons of ground and medium I could use for painting.

I think, having done this exercise, and everytging I’ve read abouyt oils that this has brought me much closer to wanting to give oild a go… I suspect they may be wonderful.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Preparation for working with found images

Time spent: 6 hours

As working with found images is totally new to me I think it would be useful if I spent some time researching the suggested artist before I start my first exercise.

Luc Tuymans: b. 1958

(Below is a paraphrasing from the Tate Biography)

Mainly painting – also film/printmaking.

Mass media images and changes them, often photographs or film stills… then degrades them by re-photographing… parallels loss surface in his painting by using cheap materials and distressed finishes.

About: loss of meaning and failure of representation.

Paintings: portray anxiety/impending doom – atmosphere – using everyday objects/unidentified sitters… but appear tranquil. Hidden meaning by using titles such as ‘Child Abuse’.

…..

He’s also paints famous people from life, such as Queen Beatrix, which is hardly a found image, and I struggled to find a typical image as his output varies so much.

However, I found this one below.

Issei Sagawa

2014

Issei Sagawa 2014 by Luc Tuymans born 1958

This man murdered and cannibalized a fellow student in 1981 while studying in Paris. This is taken from a photograph Tuymans took on his phone from a documentary about Sagawa. The photograph is of Sagawa as a young man before the crime.

I can understand the theory about degrading an image, and about hidden meaning and loss of meaning… there’s a fear in the eyes of the portrait above and you can see the monster that would commit the crime. None of this was in the opriginal p[hotograph so he is dealing with hidden meanings.

It is an image he took for a project he was developing, so I am not sure if that is a found image.  But it is an image that has been given a new new (truer) meaning and says something about our use of images and how we hide our true selves… most people put the best ‘picture’ of themselves on their social media.

So, it’s a visual comment on an ongoing debate based in a specific incident, but you need to know the context for it to make sense. If you don’t the painting has no meaning. So on one level, it’s just a random photograph repainted with loose brushstrokes, where there is skill there but no interest or meaning.

As a template for working with found images, this doesn’t appeal.

Gerhard Richter: b. 1932

Richter’s childhood sounds difficult with lots of traumatic changes caused by the second world war and the nature of his world-changing at key times in his life. One might speculate this effected his view of permanence and of the reality of meaning in images.

I know his drag paintings, that he used photographs in his landscape work and have seen his early re-imaginings of photographs (they look just like the original but are painted) such as his painting of the Dresden bombers.

But for this exercise I discovered his technique of overpainting photographs which he started in the 1980’s and is still doing today.

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The book: Gerhard Richter (2015). Overpainted Photographs. London: Heni Publishing, 2015. 1120.

A review says: (https://books.google.co.uk/books/about/Overpainted_Photographs.html?id=-1BGrgEACAAJ&source=kp_book_description&redir_esc=y)

I paraphrase to make it more readabl;e:

This book features informal overpainted photographs from an extended period. Richter has obscured these often innocuous snapshots under layers of paint and transformed their visual meaning to create a fascinating and dreamlike body of work.

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I like these but don’t understand them… and wouldn’t want one unless it was free. The paint isn’t random, but I don’t know the visual language, so it’s a bit like listening to Chinese… they may be reciting the most wonderful story or poem but all I hear is a musical voice, a lilting cohesion without meaning.

All the paintings seem to have a different personality: sometimes the paint is a screen through which you view the photograph; sometimes (as here) it’s integrated into the photograph to create a new meaning; sometimes it is like a cancerous growth inside the photograph; sometimes it forms part of the painting and sometimes… I guess it does lots of other things.

They are fun, and part of the original found image is still there, but he creates an entirely new image.

However, as a technique, it’s a way I could approach found images.

Annie Kevans: b. 1972

Her Wikipedia entry says she paints series of ‘portraits’ that explore sometimes controversial concepts and alternative histories, but that they are, “portraits only in a loose sense… her works being a composite of existing images, research and imagination”. Jones, Alice (27 November 2011). “Observations: Annie Kevans – There’s more to these faces than meets the eye”. The Independent.

Looking on her website: https://www.anniekevans.com/lostboys I found she paints series of paintings around a theme. For example her degree show in 2004 featured paintings of political dictators as children, Saatchi bought the whole collection. This is a great idea and gives the paintings an identity as a collection which is easy to market.

It also nicely packages up a meaning (and connects her paintings to the fame of the person she’s painting, for instance lots of people wanted to buy Hitler as a child, which instantly raises the profile opf all the paintings in the series) that can go along with any of the paintings: what were the dictators like as children? How did they become those adults? Also if at least one is bought by a known collector you feel like you’re in an exclusive club and the value of the whole series rises, a bit like limited edition prints only with original paintings.

I chose a painting from her series Lost Boys, about child stars… many of whom never made the transition into adult stars and had drug problems and were humiliated and vilified in the press.

River Phoenix

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As she didn’t know River Phoenix as a child this must be from a publicly available image, probably a publicity photograph judging by the pose.

This is a great painting as it’s recognizably Phoenix with just a few loose brushstrokes. And is a perfect example of less is more.

However, it’s not really a found image in the sense of a random appealing image, it’s a carefully sourced image to fulfil a creative brief… photographs of child stars. And is also painted in her own unique style, the found image hasn’t changed her painting style…  the meaning is in the idea and the image is a vehicle to service that idea.

I could have a go at painting a portrait quickly and loosely in thin paint.

Eleanor Moreton: b. 1956

There was nothing about her work I could connect with when I looked at it for my Research point oin contemporary and historical painters. She worked with found images to a formula, selecting anonymous images from the past where people had posed for photographs and then erasing the image to reflect the loss of meaning as those peolple dies and were forgotten.

So there’s nothing about her process of painting with found images that I’d want to pursue.

However, I had another look and found a more recent image.

The Ragged Girl’s Journey (goose girl), 50 x 60 cms  oil on canvas   2018

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Unfortunately, I can’t see how this connects to a found image? And I can’t find anything about this painting on the internet. Certainly, there’s no obvious connection to a found image… though it does remind me very strongly of a Gaugin poster I had in my 30’s of a blue girl walking down a path with a big black dog present, even some of the shapes and colours are similar.

Alli Sharma: b.1967 

The OCA introduction says Sharma often uses found images and black and white oil paints or diluted ink for tonal variations.

She draws material (presumably photographs?) from her own past, the cultural past such as women from the 1950’s realist cinema and our relationship to animals. She has examined the morality of pampered bejewelled dogs, the demonisation/fear of harmless bats and animals as entertainment such as her postcards from London zoo; now poignant with cruelty (such as the chimps tea party) but at the time a happy keepsake from a childhood day out.

So again, Sharma is looking at past cultural practices and highlighting changing cultural norms.

London Zoo, Postcard series 2011

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Her paintings of forgotten film stars are iconic, just the hair styles and composition identifies them as movie or publicity still and the black and white adds nostalgia.

I chose a chimps tea party.

Not so much found images as a concept driven series of themed paintings clustered around an idea, with the postcards as source material for her meaning. She reintroduces the ‘lost’ postcards as paintings to highlight a cultural change.

Her strength, and all her paintings appear to be fixed in a certain style, is how she captures the essence of a photograph in a few bold brushstrokes of thin paint.

Cathy Lomax: b. 1963

A very interesting Wikipedia entry saying she runs the Transition Gallery, supporting contemporary art by established and emerging artists, publishes an art fanzine called Arty, and is currently studying for Phd in Film Studies.

Lomax says Arty was an antidote to the increasing elitism of established art magazines and a supporter of heartfelt work in tiny galleries. There’s also a quote from Stekla Vine saying how supportive Lomax was.

This begs the question of how much time or interest she has for her own paintings and how they relate to found images.

Fetish Girl by Cathy Lomax 2003 (based on Thora Birch as Enid in the 2001 United Artists film Ghost World

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I’m assuming she uses a photograph as the original source, and retitled it. I don’t think there would have been a character (there wasn’t – I checked) called Fetich Girl in the original film.

Again, not really a ‘found’ photograph, more a searched for photograph that she can use to change the meaning.

This was one of the better of her paintings I could find.

Most looked like they had some skill but were not very good fan paintings taken from publicity shots. More weak oil sketches and lacking the flair of Annie Kevans or the skill of Eleanor Moreton.

I could find photographs of famous people and ride on their coattails by repainting them loose and thin.

Walter Sickert: b. 1860 d. 1942

https://www.tate.org.uk/art/research-publications/camden-town-group/walter-richard-sickert-r1105345 The Tate biography is long, detailed and very interesting… however I don’t want to cover all that here.

Suffice it to say he had a long career and constantly reinvented himself, his early training being as a studio assistant for Whistler.

In 1927 he dropped has first name, re-invented himself and became known a Richard Sickert. He still painted domestic interiors, portraits, townscapes and theatrical subjects but now used photographs instead of on the spot drawings.

Again, I don’t think this qualifies as found images… that he suddenly came upon an image he liked and wanted to paint. Much more likely is that he hunted down, or took them himself, images for specific paintings.

I’d need to research more but this sounds like he’d just swapped out his sketchbook for a camera?

The Front at Hove (Turpe Senex Miles Turpe Senilis Amor), 1930

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Faced with a page of Sickert paintings this leapt out as being from a photograph… I wonder what iot was? I think it’s the composition.

What is very interesting is how loose this is, how he’s copied the photographic composition but not the detail, and kept his blurry painting style. It’s sharp and loose at the same time, I really like this… and I love the blue on  the buildings.

I could certainly have a go at painting a photograph in this style.

Any Warhol: b.1928 d. 1927

I have been to two large Warhol exhibitions in the last 20 years and read about his work, so am not coming at this as totally blind as I have to some of the other artists.

His works are very powerful, commercially successful and publicly popular. So he manages to be both art in the old sense of beautiful and popular, but also in the new sense of being ‘academically approved’ modern art.

I think the maxim sex sells is wrong, I think beauty sells. Pornography is very cleverly constructed, whether or not you see its content as dangerous fantasies or harmless fun, the packaging is not ugly, it’s the beauty that makes them effective… and dangerous. People even talk about food pornography when a beautiful image makes you want to gorge yourself. A beautiful image invites the viewer into a shared space and rewards him with a pleasure hit… like nectar for a bee. The viewer is then very receptive to the message, one could almost say they are seduced by ecstasy.

But Warhol’s art is also very political, the content is radical. Maybe not as radical as a message that there’s a magical kingdom you will all go to forever if you follow the beautiful madonna and follow thr strictures of the church, but radical enough. And because he used a common language, the graphic and pop art colours and shapes accessible to everybody, he enfranchised his viewer.

I wonder whether, given the level of control over meaning now, his art would have flourished today as it did in the Wild West of images and ideas of the 60’s?

Maybe he would have sidestepped the meaning mediators and appealed direct to the public? And Doig like, but with a sociopolitical message rather than escapism, achieved fame and success. And as his message doesn’t really challenge the status quo, maybe he would have gained the blessing of the art critics too.

Coming from a background as a commercial ‘artist’ he knew the visual language well, what he did, par excellence, was take these found images and give them a new meaning exploring the relationship between art, celebrity and advertising.

As touched on by this course he used a mixture of media, whatever best expressed his purpose: painting, silkscreen, photography, film, and sculpture.

I’ve chosen his Campbell’s Soup Cans from 1962 as they are his least painterly work from his famous painting:

32 canvases 51 x 41 cm, hand silk screen printed 

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Lots of people, including a couple of the artists in this section have used his idea of a collection tied together by a common meaning such as Alli Sharma’s London Zoo Postcards or Annie Kevan’s Dictator’s as Children.

I think this is very clever, it works as a collection and the cans work individually. They are flat and graphic but the slight differences in the red dye point up that these are hand-made and not factory produced. It’s obviously a work of art, it’s nice to look at and makes you think about home-made soup, the lies of the factory advertising, and how we yearn after hand-made products but accept the lie of m,ass produced products sold as, ‘Good as Your Granny Makes’. There’s even a Tesco range of food at the moment featuring ‘nice’ people with ranges of… ‘Mary’s Chicken’ etc… as if they are your mum cooking it for you themselves.

So his message is still relevant today.

I love labels so this is definitely an area I could look at for my found images.

Edgar Degas: b. 1834 d. 1917

Again, I know a little about Degas as I like his work, have seen it in several exhibitions and read about him.

My impression is that he used photography as a technique, or took techniques from photography, such as cropping, rather than chanced upon found images he liked and wanted to paint.

He had a long career, including a stint defending Paris in the 1870’s in the Franco-Prussian war. And went from an early desire to be a History painter in to an Impressionist, if not in his painterly style then at least in his composition as his eyes flicked over scenes and picked up compositions and details other painters may have missed.

Famous for depicting movement; towels move as the women dry themselves; horses whinny and prance and dancers gracefully curtsy. I don’t know his portraits as well but read they are known for their psychological insight and often show human isolation… I wonder if Hopper studied Degas?

It wasn’t until his late 40’s (in the 1880’s) that Degas developed a passion for photography. He threw himself into this new medium photographing friends, artistically in lamplight… which given the technology at the time must have given him some very interesting results… some of these were kept as photographs such as his double portrait of Renoir and Mallarmé, while others were used as references for his drawings and paintings.

I didn’t find any reference to him using found images, only to photographs he’d taken himself.

It seems to have been both the muted palette of the photographs (although the first colour photograph was in 1861 it must still have been in its infancy in the 1880’s) and the natural composition (photography allowed spontaneous images for the first time, and it was easy to try new angles) that he copied.

1876 The Ballet Instructor

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I hadn’t thought about it before as I wasn’t looking specifically at the colour, more the composition and narrative, but I can see the lack of saturation in these colours. This could have been painted from sketches, but the naturalistic poses (especially of the woman left and fantastically expressive judgemental listening of the nearest ballerina) look more like a spontaneous moment captured by the camera.

It’s the rigour of the old training with the spontaneity of the new medium that make this so exciting.

So, he’s not really using found images, more reinvigorating his practice with a new medium.

Keith Tyson: b. 1969

I am going to paste his Wikipedia entry below: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Keith_Tyson

“… is an English artist. In 2002, he was the winner of the Turner Prize. His work is concerned with an interest in generative systems, and an embrace of the complexity and interconnectedness of existence.[1] Tyson works in a wide range of media, including painting, drawing and installation.”

The wide range of media I get, but the other is pure art speak, and actually (when you break it down) means almost nothing. Does it mean he’s interested in how things start (ideas, people, social institutions) and how they are connected?

I couldn’t find the Yellow pages mentioned in the exercise book however I did manage to find this:

KEITH TYSON: SUPERCOLLIDER

16 JAN – 17 MAR 2002
PAST EXHIBITION

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This looks like the long-established practice of using ephemera, pages from books, paper bags etc as a painting surface. He’s doodled on some Yellow pages.

Looking through his other work it seemed to split between process painting, pouring paints on discs and letting chance take it’s course; degrading surfaces (again leaving the result to chance) and ‘graffiti’ on found surfaces as above.

It’s ugly, undecipherable and perfectly safe: musing on the connectedness of life is good for us and in any case, the meaning can only be reached through the critics. For ordinary people it absolutely does not do what it says on the tin.

Kurt Schwitters: b. 1887 – d. 1948

Schwitters was a child of his time and circumstance, deeply affected by the collapse of Germany following World War 1 and the Dada movement’s attack on the nature of beauty and it’s connection to the bourgeoise elite who they held responsible for mass murder. Schwitters response was to turn to the rubbish in the streets as a medium instead of paint. Ironically, given that he used rubbish, his arrangements are said to be harmonious and sentimental, but not beautiful. Which begs the question of how relevant his materials were to his art, if he continued to make harmonious art?

As well as collage (using found media) he produced journals, illustrated, painted advertisements, and started Merz, his own journal. In addition, he was a poet and sometimes made poems into sculptures by stringing together musical words.

His sculpture developed onto his Merzbau where he accreted real spaces, adding bits on, till they became walk through sculptures.

It would be interesting to know how popular his collages were at the time? What sort of prices they were fetching? And what the reaction was to having ‘paintings’ made of rubbish? And how the public and the critics reacted?

Opened by Customs 1937–8

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I can see that he used rubbish… and paint… and he has obviously had some sort of plan as this is not randomly put together… but am not sure what this says or does. It’s not beautiful and has no aesthetic appeal, neither is it ugly (I think harmonious is a good description). I can’t see how it’s sentimental but that may be historically determined.

Much as I try, unless you had an ideological investment I can’t see why anybody would want this on their wall.

It’s using found media rather than found images, as the ‘images’ are torn up and used a medium to build the painting (in the same way as you might use different oil paints he uses different scraps of paper). As it’s not about the impact of the found image I don’t this wou;d work as a way of usingh found images… unless, of course, I ‘painted’ my found images using rubbish?

 

Research Point: contemporary painters and painting styles

Time spent:

I’m trying to keep a track on the time I spend on the course so that I can bring it in inside 400 hours.

The first course, Drawing 1, took two years and I guess nearer 800 to 1000 hours, last year, Practice of Painting 1, took a year and was nearer 600 hours. This year I would like to keep it inside the 400 hours, both so I can finish Level 1 within 4 years but also so I can raise my head and spend a lot more time on art outside the course… visiting exhibitions, sketching, log book, general reading and maybe even some of my own projects.

My answer, like being on a diet, is to log all my hours. It’ll keep me on track and make me work faster.

Written response: 20 hours

Visual response: 4 hours

Total for this research point: 24 hours

……………..

Slick, flat paint

Gary Hume, Sarah Morris, Ian Davenport, Inka Essenhigh, Jane Callister and Brian Alfred

I’ll research Gary Hume as it’ll serve as an introduction for me to this painting style and I can carry that over when I come to my likes and dislikes of the other artists, and I’ll have considered what slick, flat paint means.

Gary Hume, b 1962, associated Young British Artists, works in London and Accord, New York.

Medium: Household gloss paints. He chooses this medium because it flows and sets. His works don’t appear to have any brushstrokes so he is doing away with one of the painterly tools, surface and texture, and making them more like photographs?

He also has a psychological reason for choosing household paint, that it is common and everybody has some in their house. Does this mean he is painting for the people? What is his market? How does the medium affect the viewer?

Research Tate studio visit: https://www.tate.org.uk/art/artists/gary-hume-2403/gary-hume-studio-visit (for Tate exhibition May 2013)

He talks about abstract formalism which I take to be found shapes in the real world, as he mentions finding shapes in the environment. Then he makes up a palette (which has nothing to do with representing the original colours). The example he gives is of painting Angela Merkel… he took shapes from her face, meaning from his interest in the rise of German politics and ‘random’ colours to make a meaningful abstract painting. He adds that he lets the painting lead him rather than trying to create a predetermined image. So it’s not about his , the painter’s, intent… his intent is that the painting stands in its own right and through him creates itself.

Aesthetica magazine http://www.aestheticamagazine.com/review-of-gary-hume-at-tate-britain/ said: ‘The man who made a name for himself by painting hospital doors has come a long way with a very simple formula: gloss paint in bold, treading a line between abstraction and figuration.’

I would disagree with this as the paintings I’ve seen have not been bold and are mostly figuratively abstract. You can recognise shapes and faces but the colours are doing something entirely different. And the colours, even if bold, lack emotional energy.

Do I like them?

Gary Hume,  Anxiety and the Horse. Angela Merkel 2011

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No.

Why?

They make me feel slightly sick, frustrated and like I have stomach ache.

Firstly I’d have no idea this was about Angela Merkel unless I attended the exhibition and read the title and blurb.

I think the selection of shapes from one object or person matched with the colours based on a psychological interest in something else makes this a process painting. This process gives each painting a strange slippery coherence but the particular shapes and colours don’t matter and are not important to understanding the finished painting, they just give him different visual outcomes.

For me his paintings lack emotional power; it’s almost as if they are emotionally abstracted in the same way that they are pictorially abstracted, one step away from an emotional reality in the same way that he has moved them a step away from a visual reality. More like a Rothko in the sense that I think he is asking for spiritual contemplation rather than emotional engagement. Though I think Rothko’s paintings have a direct emotional connection that Gary Hume’s don’t.

I like something that grabs me by the guts and demands a response, that stimulates and engages me. If it was a person, and for me paintings have personalities as well as meanings, I might find this painting annoyingly disengaged and wishy-washy, and living in its head.

His career is also very interesting as he worked as a film editor up to the 1980’s… did he do paintings as a hobby? Did he lack confidence? Did he not paint at all? He suddenly had an idea that got him attention, his series of infamous door paintings. This shot him to the top of the art tree. Having established himself he changed direction. Why?

Initially he dabbled with sculpture and refers to it in the talk, but is mainly known as a painter. His fame in the Art world was further enhanced in 1999 by representing Britain in the Venice Biennale and being nominated for the Turner Prize.

Title:

I don’t think it has anything to do with the finished painting; it merely refers to the process he used to make the painting, using shapes from Angela Merkel and his interest in German politics. I have no idea what ‘Anxiety and the Horse’ means.

Composition:

They remind me of simplified, non linear Bauhaus house paintings (see below). There’s something about the lack of saturation and the colours that look like they’ve been chosen by theory rather than emotion. And the lack of any complementary colours and visual energy, which is further exacerbated by the lack of brushstrokes.

Walter Gropius – founder of the Bauhaus School

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The palette for the Angela Merkel painting is restricted: yellow, green and white. Although they’re harmonious, it’s a sort of ghostly harmony.

Time of production, 2011.

Eight years ago…

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In 2011 I can’t remember there being anything other than the normal run of stuff that happens in the world. No major wars, depressions or periods of big technological, social or economic change. There may well have been something personal to Gary Hulmes but there’s no way I could know that.

Sarah Morris, b 1967 in UK, now lives in New York city

 

It is interesting that she uses the same medium, house paint, as Gary Hume.

Morris also, like Hume, has a process of production. She visits different cities and studies their typographies and then tries to capture them in an abstract pattern.

This seems a little cynical to me, more like a marketing ploy than genuine artistic endeavour. You’re almost selling the painting off the back of the city it represents. Commercial typefaces and colours certainly gives her work a slick commercial look but I can find no link with typography; they look just like sharp poppy commercial designs to me.

It would also be interesting to ask a room of well-travelled businessmen if the paintings reminded them of anything, and see whether anybody mentioned a capital city.

Morris also applies the process to events like her Total Lunar Eclipse below. Again, she is attaching her painting process to something with a high-profile.However, here she has warm sun colours, cool moon colours and moon shapes and sun shapes, so there is a connection with her subject.

Do I like it?

A little, a lot more than Hume’s.

Likes and dislikes…

I like that it’s graphic, but I don’t like that it lacks graphic energy. It’s a sort of middle class posh graphic with the edges taken off. The colours don’t zing or shout, and the harsh hard energy has gone. And like Hume, the colours lack intensity, almost like they have been watered down.

And, like Hume’s painting, the lack of brush strokes, which aren’t compensated by visual energy, make it emotionally flat. The colours are almost pastel, no complementary colours, with no movement and no direction.

But I think my biggest dislike is that I can’t connect with it in any way. It’s a pallid intellectual painting with no key, a clever pattern, like something I might see in a tube station, when I like powerful emotional paintings that pull me in.

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Ian Davenport, b: 1966, YBA painter of 80’s, trained at Goldsmiths.

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Like:

I like the way the paints have mixed at the bottom, but there is no plan or cohesion to the mixing so my ‘like’ is fleeting, there’s nothing to hold me.

Dislike:

I dislike that it has no effect on me and leaves me emotionally and psychologically cold. I think this is because I can’t detect any humanity in it. There doesn’t seem to be any connection between the artist and the canvas; it’s as if it’s been painted by a machine.

It looks like a process painting, where meaning is replaced by process.

Any effect it might have relies on size and the awe factor, rather than soul, ideas or artistic vision.

It’s all surface.

I could imagine it in a few years time in a fun park where you could make your own Ian Davenport painting.

Inka Essenhigh, b: 1969, American based in New York City.

Daphne and Apollo, 2013, Oil on canvas, 152.4 x 182.9 x 0.6 cm

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Like:

The way the restricted palette brings the painting together.

 

Dislike:

I dislike the style and the washed out quality of the images. I think it might be to do with the lack of brushstrokes, so there’s no surface texture or energy. This could be a film or a photographic image. The lack of contrast adds to the lack of energy and dynamism. If it was black and white it would be all shades of grey with little tonal structure under the colours, like flesh without a skeleton.

It seems to be a strange mixture of the surreal and fantasy. But unlike the surreal paintings of the 1930’s it isn’t disturbing, there aren’t enough strange juxtapositions and links to the real world. And as a still from a fantasy film it would lack enough context to hold any meaning.

Jane Callister, b.1963, Isle of Man, UK, based in New York City.

I think she works in acrylic.

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Like:

It’s difficult to find anything I like about this apart from it’s bright and cheerful and I like red as a colour.

Dislike:

It looks like it’s all energy and accident. There doesn’t seem to be any internal coherence or anything that ties me to the artist. I can’t feel Callister in the canvas; there doesn’t appear to be any artistic vision. It’s abstract but compared to say, a Pollock, where there is a huge internal coherence, this feels accidental and busy.

The flatness saps the energy, so even though it’s bright red it’s also limpid at the same time.

Brian Alfred, b. 1974 USA, based in New York

Summer Sky, 2018, Acrylic on canvas, 30 x 40 inches, 76.2 x 101.6 cm

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Like:

I’ve tried really hard but I can’t find anything I like about this.

Dislike:

I have no connection with it. I can’t feel the artist in the canvas; I can’t see his vision of the world.

This has the feel of digital art when somebody puts a photograph into a computer and then ‘paints’ it in the programme. I can’t breathe the air as he breathes in the sunset… or feel the cool breeze on my face… so it just becomes a colour composition using the shapes of a sunset.

I dislike the lack of drama and meditative beauty in the sky; it looks dead.

I get nothing from this, no reason, no meaning, no feeling and no artistic vision.

 

Loose thin paint

Mimei Thompson,

Contemporary British, Tokyo born… she works in thin layers of translucent oil and terms herself  a figurative and process painter.

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Like:

I like her fun and non realist approach because it allows me to read emotional narratives into her marks. This reminds me of weeds in a gutter (not a common subject; they remind me of gossiping Saturday shoppers on Oxford Street.

I like the freedom of her quick loose brushstrokes and how they delineate form. It’s a bit like seeing shapes in clouds, but there’s enough there for me to be sure it’s weeds in a gutter.

The simplicity of the background is also very appealing as it blends and enhances the weeds but also gives the painting a little depth.

It feels like the artist is present.

Dislike:

The lack of movement around the painting which I think is due to the composition. Compositionally it reminds me of an all over painting, but the all over is in strips.

I also miss the energy of texture on the surface which thicker paint and brushstrokes bring.

Annie Kevans, b, 1972, lives in France


Humberto Branco, Brazil, 2004, Oil on paper, 50 x 40 cm

 

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Like:

It’s haunting.

Something about the eyes pulls you in.

I like it because it commands my attention and I connect with it. In some way it’s almost as if Branco is present. The more I look, the more the paint dissolves and I’m looking at the boy, seeing through her eyes.

It’s almost as if  I’m looking inside the boy. In the same way that when you look at somebody you stop seeing their face and just see ‘inside them’ through their eyes.

Dislike:

I don’t like that the face is so  sketchily painted. It’s a place holder for the eyes, and there’s nothing to spoil the illusion of ‘face’, but it’s not quite enough to hold me and sets up a dynamic of staying and looking away, which after a while becomes a distraction.

Kathyn Lomax, b, 1963, London

She was going to leave, 2018, oil on paper, 21x18cm

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Like:

I like the composition; how the painting is broken up into strips and the repetition of the colour, which bounces the eye across the painting and creates movement. And the use of the window which breaks up the background around her into geometric shapes.

It reminds me of classical paintings that used curtains or Greek pillars to frame their subject. And the window lights her, so all the focus is put on her.

Dislike:

That she positions it as a narrative with her conversational title, but I can’t read the story in the painting. There’s no mood, no tension and no narrative, it’s just a woman standing at a window with a finger on her mouth.

Also, for me, this looks like an oil sketch for a traditional painting rather than using the loose thin paint as a medium/technique in its own right.

My comparison might be Hopper, who is very filmic, and who I could imagine painting a similar subject, only with the woman smaller. But his would be much more powerful and his medium would match his message. Here the paint is doing one thing, diffusing the image and stepping away from reality, and its title is doing the opposite, trying to portray a very real human dilemma and pull the viewer into the moment, so the painting loses all focus and falls flat on the canvas.

Eleanor Moreton, b, 1956, London

She examines pauses in people’s lives when they presented themselves to the world, such as in historic posed photographs.

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Like:

I’m struggling to find anything I like as I can find no way in to connect with the painting, and there’s nothing from a painterly or emotional point of view that I like.

Perhaps the reflections. I like the way the shiny surface (water?) catches the reflections. They read as reflections yet if you look at them closely the reflections are barely there which is very effective in creating a smooth, shiny, but distorted surface.

Dislike:

I dislike that there’s nothing to connect with emotionally and the painting is very cerebral.

The colours have been thinned and sucked dry. The composition matches the original photograph, I assume, and is flat and boring. There’s no movement and no texture.

I dislike that the faces have not, or only partially, been painted.

This is a dead painting. Not a living thing that has died and is fading… not holding of lost memories like a sun-blanched flower… but a mental accretion on top of an old photograph, a process with no connection to its source. I see a process, not a painting.

Photo-realism

Chuck Close, b, 1940, American

Close has changed his style and his current portraits are semi abstract, but as this section is about photo-realism I’m going to look at one of his old paintings.

John, 1971-72, acrylic on gessoed canvas, 100 x 90 in. (254 x 228.6 cm)

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Like:

I like the skill. It looks like a photograph. And I would imagine given the huge size it would have a big impact on the viewer, like a billboard.

Also, I admire the subtlety of tones that he’s achieved with acrylics.

Dislike:

That I can’t see any purpose or any meaning in the painting.

It doesn’t offer me the artist’s vision of the face, his interpretation of the world, or his unique way of seeing. It doesn’t let me share another person’s soul looking out. And it doesn’t give me any exterior meaning or viewpoint of the world.

I can’t tell the difference from the original photograph. This could be a mechanical reproduction by a camera without any human intervention. For me, the fact it is done in paint doesn’t make it art.

Mark Fairnington, b, 1957, British

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Fairnington seems to do a range of paintings, many of which aren’t photo-realistic, so I found one that was. I don’t know when this was painted, but I might surmise that as photo-realism is out of fashion this is an early painting. Did he alter his style to suit the market?

That said, his photo-realism isn’t really photo-realism, it’s more like the realism of botanical illustration. It doesn’t look like a photograph or real; you can tell it’s a painting.

Like:

I like that he’s captured the quality of a taxidermist bird; that frozen dead look where stuffed birds are put in big glass bell jars. It doesn’t matter that it’s not quite photo-real, and indeed the bird (or the taxidermist?) has a whiff of personality which is very appealing.

Dislike:

I dislike the lack of meaning and emotional engagement. There’s no way for me to connect with this painting. I don’t get any painterly vision, or interpretation… no debate is opened up, no meaning is passed across.

Robert Priseman, b. 1965, British

Amy Winehouse, 2012-13

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His paintings, even when they fill the canvas, like his Wannasee paintings, are not photo-realistic, and always carry a meaning. The meaning is often ‘in your face’ and more important than the painting.

Looking at his bigger paintings on canvas and the harsh unsubtle colours, I’d say he paints in acrylic?

Like:

I like that he has combined a found image with painting to create a new meaning. Tragic pop stars are now our modern-day saints. It makes me think.

The found image reminds me of time; of changing art styles; of how people stay the same while technology and society change around them… and our need for tragic figures to be ‘idolatised’.

Dislike:

The painting of the face has the feel of a very good amateur or Saturday painter. It looks more like a fan painting than an image created by an artist. The painting of Amy’s face doesn’t connect emotionally because it’s poorly painted, nor is it ‘photo-accurate’, nor does it give me any feeling for her personality or the artist’s vision.

The above may be the whole point of the artwork (I think it’s an artwork/fine art more than a painting because it’s a construction and because the meaning is more important than the painting)… her image is like something a fan might paint and tie to a lamppost with flowers, and its lack of psychological insight stresses how we don’t know her at all. But I can’t get past its lack of skill.

I dislike that it becomes a heavy-handed philosophical comment on the nature of humanity, rather than a painting I can ‘enter’, and that it can be ‘read’ like a book. It does not depend for its effect, or meaning, on the painting, but on the juxtaposition of ideas. The meaning is word based, rather than being visually captured on the canvas.

By contrast, a painting like Guernica affects me deeply and pulls me in, as well as raising issues about war. I have the same reaction to this as I would to a clever cartoon, or a paragraph in a book.

It could be classified as picture book philosophy rather than painting.

Tim Gardner, b. 1973, USA born now lives in Canada

Tourists at Lake Louise, oil on canvas, 2009

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He paints in both oil and watercolour, his oils paintings are more ‘real’, but I like his watercolours much better.

Like:

I like how he has captured the heat of the day, and it feels like the man on the left could really walk across the frame. Although it’s not visually ‘real’ like Chuck Close it is experientially real. He has put me in the painting and I can feel the heat. I like my other senses to be engaged when looking at a painting.

In short he’s captured the reality of being there rather than just the visual reality.

In the composition, I like the way all the lines point to where the white mountain meets the green valley at bottom centre, including the people, and then he has one man breaking the focus. It sets up a really interesting dynamic.

The foreground with the people is stunning; it’s like I’m really there. I wouldn’t want to paint it, but I really like it.

Dislike:

The colours aren’t very saturated and look a bit washed out; and the trees on the mountainside look generic, like they’re not trees at all but a green pattern painted without much thought.

Black and white

Raymond Pettibon, b. 1957, American

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This looks like black ink on paper. Some of his more recent images have colour. This is an ideal medium for prints (for a mass audience) and I would also expect him to make money from publishing in magazines and papers.

Like:

I like that his art, even though not beautiful, appeals directly to the viewer. The critics have no power over it and the meaning is clear. It enfranchises the viewer and establishes a direct connection between them, the artist and the art.

He makes an argument about enjoying life while you’re young, to be aware of the moment and that youth and fame passes.

It’s witty and powerful.

I like the way he has used direct language as part of his art as it, intentionally or otherwise, is a wry stab at the reams of art-speak that justify many opaque modern works of art where the meaning is only reached through the ministries of an art critic.

I like the power and simplicity of the black and white and how the composition is balanced between light and dark.

Dislike:

On its own it could be the drawing of an 18-year-old who’d never been to art school but enjoyed doodling on his work. In terms of traditional skill it’s naive… and therefore reliant on his words to make it work.

In that way it’s no different to any modern art that needs an explanation to give it meaning. However, as the artist wrote the words and they are part of his ‘painting’, and his painting needs no further explanation, it’s unlike modern art.

I am struggling whether this is really a cartoon? Or art? For me it is certainly on the boundary.

However, I think there’s something about his messages that raises it above the banal and tips it into art. But if I think of Hogarth… he might have had a similar message without words… which is more effective and does it matter?

Finally, this is about the human condition, so is timeless as long as Elvis is part of our cultural lexicon. It would be interesting to see if Pettibon painted political works and what effect they had, and how the establishment reacted.

Jose Toirac, b. 1966, Cuban

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Toirac has a range of styles, it’s difficult to see how his coloured paintings of a banana or crisp packet are any more skillful or meaningful than any from a second or third year painting student. But as this section is about black and white painting I’ve picked a black and white image.

This reminds me of Gerhard Richter’s early work on black and white photographs.

The pieces I read about Toirac on the internet say that he deconstructs state-constructed meanings by taking old images and re-examining them, in the same way meaning would be reconstructed if the political situation changed in Cuba… say it became a capitalist country.

Like:

I like that this could be a moment from a life and can be read like a personal narrative. Fidel Castro is giving the boy his hand, a human thing to do, while being focussed on his own agenda. The boy is addressing us, the photographer, by looking directly into camera. He is inquisitive and innocent.

To me, it argues that Fidel was a real man as well as a mythologized leader. As such, it could be about anybody in the public eye or even, in today’s world, any one of us with a carefully chosen Facebook image.

Dislike:

That it looks like, and is still tied to, the original faded photograph, which may be skillful… but I can’t see the point as the faded photograph would be equally as effective.

I dislike that it is all mid tone because this gives it a flat, washed out feeling (this isn’t about faded fame) and I can’t see why he’s made that choice.

Alli Sharma, don’t know when she was born, contemporary, graduated BA Fine Arts in 1967 (but doesn’t mean she was young?)

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Her painting is very mixed and it’s difficult to find out verifiable information on the internet.

Like:

That this is almost breaking away from the photograph and beginning to work as a painting. The use of light is interesting and it’s beginning to have its own internal coherence.

It’s almost capturing the woman and putting a presence down on paper.

Dislike:

Because the painting is not quite working as a whole I am noticing separate elements like the poor skill on the hand, which looks like a claw and doesn’t look like it’s resting on her elbow.

It feels like it doesn’t quite know if it’s representational, realist or something entirely different, and the different parts of the drawing have no consistency of style.

Gia Edzgveradze, b. 1953, Georgian, lives and works in Germany

He seems to ‘draw’ mainly unintelligible squiggles… or line drawings with words. However, as most of his words are not in English I can’t read them so have chosen the only black and white image without words I could find, it’s called The Big Bra.

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Like:

It’s quite pleasing on the page. The simplicity and confidence are engaging.

Dislike:

As far as there is still any definition between drawing and painting, this is a drawing not a painting.

I cannot see any difference between this and any quick sketchbook drawing of any competent artist. The value and validation must have been given by critics, museums, collectors, universities and other arbiters of what is good.

I don’t dislike it per-se, but I dislike that it has no special artistic value or meaning apart from that given it by ‘experts’.

I wouldn’t pick it out of a student sketchbook, frame it, pay money for it or put it on my wall.

Colour and pattern

Peter Doig, b. 1959, Scottish but now lives in Trinidad

White Canoe, 1991

20091127030335_peterdoigwhitecanoe.jpgThis reminds me of Gaugin.

I love it… so this might be an area that I could work in.

The blurb on one of the sites about Doig said his style was ‘magical realism’, which is a term I’ve never heard, but is very descriptive and is something I can see, in embryonic form, in my own work.

Like:

I like that it has a coherence, a focus in the canoe, and that it works. By works, I mean I enter the painting and am lost inside it. It’s like a gateway, I’m an equal, and I’m invited into a new, magical world.

It plays on the very edge of reality and unreality and it’s how I see the world a lot of the time.

Also it is heavily colour based and I love colour. The nuances and subtle relationships of tone and colour, saturation, edges, pattern… it’s a shimmering and beautiful piece of work.

I love that it doesn’t need anybody to justify or validate it. That it stands free in the world and is accessible to all, though the original is only accessible to the super rich. If I could paint lesser versions of this type of painting at a price everybody could afford I would be very happy.

It works on a subconscious level as well as having a stunning visual beauty. You can connect and lose yourself in it.

It is pure beauty and also pure art, it doesn’t have a verbal meaning, but it is very meaningful. If I were asked to define the difference between decoration, beauty without meaning, and beautiful art (not counting beautiful art with an argument, like Caravaggio’s ‘Doubting Thomas’) I would cite this painting.

And, as it isn’t carrying a political, religious or social punch it should retain its magic through time. It’s not a beautiful spell to pour meaning into a supplicant viewer, it is itself the magic.

Dislike:

I don’t like the dribbles from the ‘snowflakes’ as they remind me it’s a painting.

Edouard Vuillard, b. 1868 d. 1940, French

Paint maker and print maker associated with the Nabis, a movement I really like.

Breakfast at Villerville, 1910

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This reminds me of Pierre Bonnard.

Vuillard painted many more realistic paintings, especially early in his career, but I really like this one.

Like:

The way the colours pick up on each other, echo and bounce round the canvas. It’s like colour jazz.

Within the ‘pattern’ you can read the narrative, but because the painting is all about the feeling, and experience, you catch what it was like for the artist to be there, rather than any definitive visual representation. Most of the time, especially in social situations, we don’t see the scene as a photograph, we view a photograph afterwards and talk about our memories, but we experience the moment.

I really like that this painting captures the moment.

Dislike:

There’s a small area on the bottom left hand corner of the painting, on the yellow tablecloth, which looks like a pattern (it doesn’t fit with the rest of the painting), as if he painted it quickly and without as much care.

Tal R, b. 1967, Israeli born but moved to Denmark when he was 1

Sex Shops, 2017?

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Tal R has quite a range of paintings on the internet and it was difficult to select something typical, so I chose a painting from a recent exhibition.

Like:

I’m assuming the grey people are customers?

I wouldn’t have known this without the title… but it adds meaning to an otherwise meaningless canvas.

Dislike:

His use of colour seems random and I can’t find any coherence in the painting. Although he puts complementary colours together they jar rather than adding energy.

That the geometric pattern makes it flat but he has depicted a 3D space.

This is lacking life, and seems more like a failed pattern than a work of art.

Daniel Richter, b. 1962, German

 

A Pleasure Drowning, 2018, Oil on canvas, 210 x 170 cm | 82 5/8 x 66 7/8 in

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This reminds me of Bacon on acid, if ever Bacon did such a thing. Or Bacon graffiti… or Bacon as pop art.

Like:

I like that it is figurative abstraction and is very ‘clean’ and professionally painted.

The brickwork background gives the effect of descending layers which could be like drowning, and signifies the loss of self, physically and metaphorically. And the yellow legs draw attention to the oral sex.

It is good that it has has a tonal structure with the dark and light patches of paint.

Dislike:

Having read the blurb in the Grimm gallery I dislike that, as a piece of art, this is meaningless without being moderated/explained/ameliorated by art critics.

I dislike not being able to interrogate and communicate with the artwork directly and don’t accept or trust the critics interpretation. It’s like mind control and takes away all my power, forcing me into a position where I have to make a stand and discard the critic’s view (when in fact it may be valid) or accept their interpretation without understanding it.

Compositionally, the colours don’t work and though there is movement in the dislocated limbs it’s neither a thrashing nor a swimming, neither a frenzy nor a struggle… just a confusion.

Messy

Denis Castellas, b. 1951 in France, lives and works in Nice and new York

Don’t know the title, 2017

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It’s very difficult to find information and images on the internet and I had no way of judging his body of work or what he’s doing now, so I picked a painting I liked.

Like:

It’s vaguely attractive and feels like it could mean something.

There’s an internal coherence that is attractive.

Dislike:

Above the level of being mildly stimulating it means nothing to me.

Presented with this (I don’t dislike the drawing/painting) I cannot access it, and dislike art that needs the interpretation of an expert, who may have a self-interest which I don’t know, to validate it.

Cecily Brown, b. 1969, British, lives in New York

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Not sure of the date, but think it’s fairly recent? Her style seems to have changed enormously since her early work.

Like:

I like the merging of the figures as it takes you to a memory of your own love-making.

The indistinct background captures the presence and complexity of the  world without the detail, there is an awareness of what’s around you without being focused on it. This is passionate, involved and present.

I like that the painting isn’t about the figure on the canvas, that I’m not a voyeur watching a secret indiscretion or private moment, but that I’m transported to my own memories.

Dislike:

I’m not sure the top needed to be red. It certainly creates a focus and draws the eye to the important part of the painting. But it is also adds a ping of painterly technique at odds with the invisible technique of the rest of the painting. For me it is a distraction and I would have been happier with flesh on flesh.

Carole Benzaken, b. 1964, French, lives/works in Paris

(Lost) Paradise J, 2009, acrylic on canvas, 200 x 300 cm

carole-benzakem_lost-paradise-j_2009_aware_women-artists_artistes-femmes-1500x1007.jpg

She seems to do a lot of mixed media, and I’m not sure this is entirely typical of her present work. But I did find a lot of blurred images, by movement or rain… or some other technique… so decided this would be okay.

Like:

I like the idea of seeing through a filter, be that glass, rain on glass, shiny tassels, or as here ‘snow flakes’. It echoes the other’s separateness from us and raises the philosophical question of ‘seeing’.

It also puts us ‘in the room’ with the viewer, so we are, in some way, a complicit observer.

Dislike:

I dislike just about everything artistic about this.

The paradise which has been lost is so obliterated it’s impossible to tell whether it had any value in the first place. It has the feel of a process painting where any old paradise painting is randomly obliterated by white marks.

These white marks become the focus of the painting and there is no form or beauty to them. They signify nothing. There doesn’t appear to be any love or passion in the brushstrokes… just cleverness.

Elizabeth Peyton, b. 1965, American, lives and works in New York

Dark Incandescence (Kristian), 2014, Oil on board, 15 1/4 x 12 inches (38.7 x 30.5 cm)

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I chose this as a fairly recent work, and though not maybe her best, seems fairly typical. I’m not sure it’s properly classified as messy, as it doesn’t look messy to me… maybe more Loose Thin Paint?

Like:

I like the eyes, Peyton has captured a personality.

And the left wrist and bracelet

Dislike:

The looseness of the paint and the acres of white board.

I dislike that it doesn’t seem to know what it is; take away the face and it could almost work as a flat pattern. It ends up with the whole painting being a vague place holder for the eyes.

Chantel Joffe, b. 1969, based in London

Moll in a Mustard Jacket, 2014, Oil on board, 182.9 x 121.9 x 6 cm, 72 1/8 x 48 x 2 3/8 in

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This seems fairly consistent for her output since about the 2000’s, though she appears to have got less representational and dried up some of her dribbles.

The paint is loose and thin but also messy, hence, I guess, her classification as ‘Messy’.

Like:

The looseness of it, and I think I would like the impact of the size.

Dislike:

Naive art is one thing; naive looking art by a trained artist (Joffe is highly trained) is entirely another, and there has to be a reason for that choice.

For me, a big part of whether I like a work of art is whether I can connect with it and whether it has any meaning. So, if the artist’s choice enhances meaning or connection then it’s a good thing.

But I can neither connect with this or find any meaning. It’s not working on a painterly level of colour combinations, it doesn’t work internally, there isn’t a pattern, figuratively it’s only just registering, and the exaggerated face conveys nothing. And I can’t find any meaning.

Jasper Joffe, b. 1975, works in London

Not sure when this was painted. I think it’s called, Old Vase.

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His paintings seem to be a bit hit and miss, and very varied, so not sure how typical this is, or even if there is a typical.

Like:

Looking through the paintings on his website I like the playfulness of his images.

Many of his paintings remind me of a cross between Raoul Dufy, in that they have a strong linear structure which he bursts out of, and Matisse, in his glorious use of colour.

I like his bold playful brushstrokes… and cool blue vase and hot Amaryllis.

The drippy paint doesn’t bother me as it feels like what part of the painting captures is its joyful creation.

Dislike:

I dislike the pale pink background. It’s too undifferentiated and flat, and for me doesn’t match the rest of the painting. I love what he’s done on the table, but the background wall is sitting there like an old flannel and sucks the energy out of an otherwise glorious painting.

Harry Pye, b. 1973, British

Cuong & Harry at Tate Mondrian by Harry Pye 2010, acrylic on canvas, 70 x 50 cm

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Pye often collaborates with Rowland Smith, and I think those works are much better. But I’m sticking to the letter of the exercise and looking at a painting by Pye on his own.

Like:

I’m struggling to find anything I like.

Nope, I can’t find anything.

Oh… it captures the banality of a snap.

Dislike:

The best bit is the Mondrian, even atomically destroyed it still has power and structure.

I think the thing I dislike most about it is that it is totally meaningless and of no interest, as if a stranger opened his wallet in a pub and showed me a picture he’d had taken by a stranger of him and his mate in the Tate. It doesn’t even have any beauty to soften the pill, and though naivety has appeal, and faux naivety for effect is valid, this just looks like somebody who can’t paint.

Having viewed all the works in the gallery and said why I like and dislike them, and researched Gary Hume from ‘Slick Flat Paint’, I’m now going to research one artist from each section.

Mimei Thompson – Loose thin paint

Bio:

Mimei Thompson was born in Japan with a Chilean mother and American father. They moved to the Sudan and then to the UK. This cultural flux, and uprooting, has affected her deeply, and given her layers of meanings from different cultures, which makes her world view fluid, and forms the bedrock of her transformational terraforming art.

As in her life, her art is built on layers of fluid meaning which can slip and slide in an instant.

Nature has been a constant in her life; there are weeds in the gutter in both Sudan and the UK,  but every culture views nature differently. It is as if she is searching for a fixed meaning in the ordinary, the overlooked and in nature, but of course, it doesn’t exist, as the meaning is in the culture, not in nature itself.

She studied as a photographer in Glasgow, before turning to paint around 2000, and her method reflects photography as she builds up an image with thin paint on a smooth flat surface like a photographic surface.

Method:

She paints using a process whereby she builds up thin translucent layers of paint over a white ground by mixing an alkyd resin medium with her paint. This preserves her brushstrokes, as if suspended above the thin flat ground.

This is very interesting as usually brushstrokes are preserved as texture, but her painting has no texture, so she is preserving something fragile and transient, like her shifting identity.

Brushstrokes:

These have two functions; they are descriptive of nature and also capture the physicality of their creation, and in that way add energy and draw attention to themselves.

Subject matter:

Physically… The overlooked and the ordinary, such as leaves on a pavement.

Mentally… States of mind or psychology, especially the mutable and shifting realities.

Painterly… the act of creation; she almost freezes her brushstrokes as they are made so that their creation is preserved in her painting.

Aim:

To transform the everyday into the extraordinary, and to create a sense of fluidity where everything is made up of the same matter and could transmute into something else.

Ideology:

Nature is the real but unobtainable that we long to return to.

Influences:

Surrealists and Max Ernst

Chuck Close – Photo-realism, b 1940

Born in Monroe, Washington, his dad was a Jack of all Trades and his mum a pianist too poor to pursue her dream. She did, however, want Chuck to travel beyond her limitations and paid for him to have private art lessons as a child.

Following that he went to the University of Washington in Seattle, won a scholarship to the Yale Summer School of Music and Art, and in 1962 went on to study the Yale MFA.

It’s interesting to think how a fixed 1940’s upbringing in Monroe, and the values around Close, would fashion a completely different personality and artist to the multi-cultural, well -resourced, world travelling but constantly uprooted childhood of Mimei Thompson.

He was a leading member of the super realist movement in the 1970’s but emerged from that to look at how photographic/printed images are created by mimicking the three colour method of photography and laying down (and in effect painting the same painting three times) the three colours of the photograph.

This interest in surface led him on to thinking that portraiture is a highly constructed illusion, just as photography is. And from that starting point he examined the nature of reality, looking at the way in which, though speeded up mechanically, a photograph was a no less laborious and time based ‘scrap of reality’ than a painstakingly painted portrait.

He has worked in oil, acrylic painting, photography, mezzotint printing, and other media. Always choosing the best medium for whatever he is working on, the method being ever variable but the intent constant,  he is always investigating the same thing – how self-identity, like a photographic print, is a constructed composite and ultimately a complete fiction.

The parallels with Thompson’s use of photography are striking; both dealing with the surface of things, both using slick flat shiny surfaces and both investigating the construction and mutability of identity.

Yet they approach it in completely different, almost polar opposite, ways.

Raymond Pettibon – Black and White, b. 1957

Raymond emerged onto the 1980’s art scene courtesy of his brother, Greg Ginn, who owned SST Records and asked him to create posters and albums for his Southern Californian punk rock bands. Therefore, his launch was into a cultural niche, not gallery or high art, and not for ‘educated connoisseurs’ but for the general public. It had to be immediately understood by his audience… the ‘anti’ musical, in your face, punk supporters, who, one suspects, would be equally intolerant of any whiff of trained, establishment or traditional academic art.

Also, by its nature, punk was political… so I suspect his art will be more political than artistic… more high school Hogarth than Caravaggio.

The question is, how did Raymond get to that point? Was he just lucky, and in the same way that non musicians launched themselves on the musical scene he launched himself on the artistic scene? Was he the epitome of modern art, non beautiful, non crafted but meaningful?

Or was he an artistic high flyer who chose to draw/paint in this way, as similarly Chantel Joffe produces seemingly ugly images? Not that his images are ugly, just unskilled.

He uses images and text, not as the Cubists for artistic effect, but for cultural comment. So by his choice of medium he is foregrounding words, and as such… arguments. One assumes words took the place of artistic skill; nonetheless effective, and still art, and in the tradition of modern art where anything can be art as long as it has meaning.

The difference being that his meaning is transparent not opaque.

His biography says he is self-taught, but unlike most naive art which is hidden away and then discovered, usually on the artist’s death, his art was always in the public arena. He began by helping out his brother by designing album art for his brother’s band, Black Flag in the mid 70’s. This was his apprenticeship; as influences he cites William Blake (an obvious choice given his home-made drawings and use of words)… Blake’s sketches could have been poetic album covers?  Edward Hopper… isolation?, Francisco Goya… madness and bold graphics? and John Sloan… Hopperish and portraying daily life and work – the world of his consumers?

But, as a young person with a brother in a band, it’s likely he consumed all the pop culture ephemera from comics to cartoons. Turning consumption into production is not an easy feat, but money and status might be a good driver? And given the success with his brother’s band, and then producing cover art for the hugely successful Foo Fighters, Sonic Youth and the Minutemen, it is not surprising that he had a career as an artist.

Having a huge reach and eager consumers it would be natural for him to evolve his art beyond the punk movement and into the mainstream youth/pop culture.

To do this he blends iconographical consumer culture, such as Elvis, with pithy comments on contemporary culture, to make cutting critiques of contemporary society (much like Hogarth) such as the nature of youth and fame.

raymond-pettibon-no-title-(elvis-before-he)

As he says, [from: http://www.artnet.com/artists/raymond-pettibon/%5D… “I was making my work as transparent as possible, without equivocations, without calling attention to itself, without apology,” and, “There’s a lot of conventions in the art world that are not to be transgressed, but my economy of means doesn’t abide by those strictures.”

He could sell direct to the people; he didn’t need the blessing of the art world. The critics had no power over him.

Finally, I think he’s an artist not a cartoonist as he’s not employed by any publication and governed by its editorial standards, not ‘doing a job’ but producing one-off works of art with an argument, that sail off into contemporary culture and do what art does best… shine a light in dark corners.

Peter Doig – Colour and pattern, b. 1959

He may have been born in Scotland but before he went to Wimbledon Art School in 1979 he had lived in Trinidad and in Venada, California. Certainly, he would have picked up youth culture and attitudes from the different places he lived in and possibly felt rootless.

It seems likely that his childhood experiences affected his art.

In 1980, after Wimbledon, he went on to St Martin’s School of Art where he graduated with a BA. before attaining his MA from the Chelsea School of Art in 1990.  Unusually he  became a trustee of the Tate Gallery in London just five years after his MA indicating to me that he was conventionally acceptable within the academic art world.

He was critic friendly… and, judging by his later paintings (The Architect’s Home in the Ravine, sold for $12 million at a London auction) also artistically successful with gallery owners and collectors. This would suggest he managed to combine ‘meaning’ and ‘beauty’ onto his canvases.

A quote from his Wikipedia entry supports this idea:  Art critic Jonathan Jones said about him: “Amid all the nonsense, impostors, rhetorical bullshit and sheer trash that pass for art in the 21st century, Doig is a jewel of genuine imagination, sincere work and humble creativity.”

Denis Castellas – Messy, b. 1951 (born France now lives and works in Nice and New York)

He is primarily a painter but draws his techniques from many media, which is interesting given this course is all about different media. My presumption is that he uses different techniques as tools in his artistic toolbox… picking the best one for his purpose but that the finished painting primarily falls in the ‘painting box’ – rather than drawing, photography, film or even installation art box.

Another presumption is that he uses his different techniques with different media and surfaces.

He takes his original images from comics, cinema and sport. These are all mass media enjoyed by the general public. I wonder whether he transforms them into something their original audiences can ‘read’ or whether his reworking renders them opaque?

Sans Titre n°2, 2014
Graphite, pigment, medium and acrylic on canvas, 27 x 22cm / 10.63 x 8.66 in

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My answer is that he renders these images opaque and destroys any obvious link to his source of inspiration. I can see nothing in this that refers back to cinema, sport or comics.

It would be interesting to know his background and how his painting style evolved.

He works by rubbing out, destroying an image, reclaiming it and then saturating it. His interventions in the form of partly rubbed out images are visible… but become new marks divorced from their original context. The negatives become positives as they build up a new image. And so the painting is built up, if it’s not an oxymoron, of ‘rubbings out’ and addition, and progresses by a series of accidents, which he builds on, or again rubs out, to reach his final meaning.

Of his painting process Castellas says it is like a game of poker; he is one player and the canvas is his opponent, each trying to outbid the other in meaning while simultaneously hiding their hand from the other. For him the painting game is over when one player covers the other’s hand and wins. Then he itches to start a new game with a new canvas. Painting is not, for him, a matter of working towards a meaning, but the record of a game over, including all the bids and raises, and the final cards lying on the table.

It is, presumably, for the viewer to pick over the bones of his work and take what meanings they will.

A quote from: PHAIDON NEW PERSPECTIVES ON PAINTINGS FIRST EDITION : https://translate.google.com/translate?hl=en&sl=fr&u=http://www.deniscastellas.com/root/textspress/&prev=search says of his work…

“Secret symbolism, lost love, the cruelties of sexual desire. Working like an abstract painter, which he is not, is his method. Lackadaisical humour is the bearer of the tragic in his work, with a hint of irony or cynicism.”

I couldn’t find any biography on his life and training so it’s difficult to understand why or how he developed his painting style.

For me his work is utterly unreadable and meaningless and the critical analysis of his exhibitions so dense as to also be equally  unreadable and meaningless. That said, he must exist in a market and sell to somebody.

That I have drawn a dead-end in trying to research his life is interesting in itself. All that I have found are echoes, ghostly footsteps of his passage through the art world, and none through his life. And the write ups of his few exhibitions, which are written to sell his work, are biased, so I found no independent critical analysis of his work.

Paintings that I love

I toyed with the idea of Cecily Brown, but can’t see me painting in that style. And though I like looking at it, it doesn’t excite me as an artist. I also enjoyed Raymond Pettibon in a cult comic cartoon sort of way, but would never want to do anything like that.

So, I am going to pick the two paintings that made my hair stand on end, and I would love to paint: White Canoe, 1991 by Peter Doig and Breakfast at Villerville, 1910 by Eduard Vuillard.

White Canoe, 1991, by Peter Doig

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How does it make you feel?

It makes me feel contemplative, and excited and tingly and mysterious. I feel lost and at home, like I’m on an adventure. I feel like I want to soak it all in but there’s danger close by and I can’t relax. It makes me feel alive.

I think it makes me feel like this because it places me in a magical world. I’m standing on the edge of a mysterious lake, the dark palette makes it hard to see. I don’t know what’s hidden in the blackness… if it was a film I’d feel distant, part of me would know I’m watching and safe… if it was photo realist, however dark, I would register it as something I was looking at… but when I look at this painting I am in the world.

I am standing in the water looking at the canoe.

The white canoe draws me to it like a magic talisman, strange ‘snowflakes’ drift through the air.

Do you like the work?

I love it.

What does it remind you of?

It reminds me of the worlds and adventures I made up when I was a child.

Between about 6 to 11 and I used to escape into my own fantasy in the woods around my house, or into our garden.

It also reminds me of acting, where I take on a different reality with different rules, create another character inside me who isn’t bound by my history or drives, and when the director says action… turn ‘me’ off.

Not a dream, not role play, but an alternative reality which is, for the moments you’re in it, real.

What about the composition?

It’s not an all over painting as it has a horizon which delineates dry from wet, and the focus of the white boat, which is sitting dead centre of the canvas. But it has elements of an all over painting.

I don’t feel my gaze is being controlled and directed; the woods and water are there for me to explore, seeking out meaning and possible danger… the open composition of these areas draws me into a dialogue with them, as if I was encountering/exploring a real environment.

White unifies the painting… on the boat, the silver birch (both the stumps in the water and the whole trees in the wood), reflections in the water and the snowflakes. We also have some white rocks, a sort of landlocked canoe just above the real canoe.

The snowflakes both give it a magical stillness and also create a plane through which we see – planes are always interesting. But this is especially effective as it is physically and visually transparent. Glass puts us in a room, separate and observing, but snow is like a mystical curtain… we are in it as well as seeing through it. And it engages our senses of touch, taste and hearing. We listen to the stillness, taste the coldness on our tongue and feel it melt on our face.

In the snow we have the more distinct flakes near us and the thinner flakes in the distance which gives the painting a sense of depth, and limited vision.

I love the very vague echo of the red and green in the landlocked trees, and the mixture of images on the surface, surfaces and boundaries are always captivating. We have the scum on the water, the weeds under the water, the shadows and the reflections. So there’s a very complex mixing as we look at the water, then up to the more one-dimensional forest and its hidden dangers.

In having whole trees on land and stumps on the water he both connects and separates the two picture areas… and raises the question as to why or what has cut the foreground tree trunks, adding tension to the mystery.

Having just read a fantastic article in the Guardian

https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2012/sep/05/peter-doig-outsider-comes-home

I would add that having a canoe as a central focus also adds vertical depth as it begs the question as to what’s underneath the water. What is hiding in the inky depths? As a compositional trope this is very effective because we now have depth in all directions.

Also, and I hadn’t thought of this, a canoe carries, for Western audiences at least, the hidden meaning of a ferry to the underworld. A large part of his audience, though like me they may not bring it to mind, will have this image/association hidden deep in their cultural subconscious.

What style is the work in?

Magical realism… which I’d not heard of before I started this unit but perfectly describes the style for me which is realist, but of a magical world with different rules to ours.

What colour palette has the artist used?

His colour palette is energised opposites, white/black and red/green. These are both subtle yet powerful and add a throbbing energy about to explode. Hidden magical powers resting in the wood and hidden under the seeming still of the lake. Monsters in the deep tugging at our primal memories.

What is the subject?

Difficult… the subjects, I suspect there may be three or more.

As a naive viewer, I think the subject is the canoe.

Though, it’s also my identity, subconsciousness, questions of reality and a host of other philosophical questions that tag along in the wake of this silent white canoe.

What’s the significance of the title?

I wouldn’t attach too much significance to the title because Doig often has many associations and connections in his paintings. He sees his paintings as a living things embodying a diary of their creation and, like a living thing, holding a multiplicity of meanings and contradictions.

Indeed, some of his works are untitled, and some are given titles right at the end after huge last-minute alterations.

So, I think the significance of the title is that it is a starting point and reflects the painting,  where the canoe is the visual focus. But the meaning and experience of the painting are not confined or directed by the title.

What’s the date?

1991

Doig was living in London having just finished his MA Chelsea Art College.

There were significant world events such the Gulf War, in which the UK was involved… the first democratic elections in Russia and the Indian Prime Minister was blown up. Closer to home Thatcher retired from parliament, the end of an era, The Birmingham Six were released, the IRA fired a mortar at No 10, Terry Waite was released (I remember this as a big national event) and Robert Maxwell died.

However, for Doig, without knowing anything about his personal or political life, I suspect a bigger influence on his painting was the year he’d just spent at Chelsea College of Art studying for his MA.

Why did he, age 31, ten years after his BA from St Martin’s in London choose to go back to full-time Art School? Is this what all artists do? Was he stuck? Was his work not selling? Did he want to go in a new artistic direction? Why didn’t he do it straight after he finished his BA?

Anyway, having had a year studying art full-time (without having to do a day job or earn a living selling his paintings, being able to explore and grow in a stimulating and academically challenging environment) I think he probably funnelled that experience into his painting.

It will be full of, maybe unseen or unstated, artistic and cultural influences.

In 1991 Saatchi was buying large quantities of speculative art from promising Graduates… he had a warehouse full… he saw a spark in Doig’s work and later, in 2007,  sold it for £5.7 million pounds. It briefly made Doig the most expensive living European painter and overnight changed the price of his paintings. He had happily been selling his work for around £8000, suddenly they were going for millions.

As he said, I paraphrase, he was nauseated, not because he didn’t see any of the money, but because it was a symptom of the art market gone nuts.

Which is a whole other discussion.

What medium has the artist used?

Oil paint.

Oil is the traditional classical medium often used to show subtle colour transitions, and ideal for beautiful and illusionistic art. It suggests he might want his paintings to be viewed in a traditional manner.

What about the support?

Canvas.

The right way up, not ripped, to be viewed in a conventional manner. This might suggest a connection with the historical thread of painting? Referring back to pre mid 20th century when the painting was a beautiful object, which enfranchised the viewer and let meaning into his soul.

Where is the work exhibited?

I can’t find who bought it in 2007, who owns it now or where it is exhibited. As I think it would come up in Google if it was hanging in a public gallery, I assume it was bought by a private buyer and is not on public display.

 

Breakfast at Villerville, 1910 by Eduard Vuillard, oil on board, 57.47 x 77.47 cm

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How does it make you feel?

It makes me feel happy.

I think this is because of his use of sumptuous colours that all blend together like a bank of summer flowers, and because of his blurry edges and indistinct forms which make me feel like I am in the room. The room looks like I feel when I’m having fun with friends.

It makes me feel like I’m safe, like I’m part of a group and like a loved child, adored and indulged.

Do you like the work?

I love this piece of work.

What does it remind you of?

It reminds me of Pierre Bonnard because of his colours and brushstrokes.

In life, it reminds me of one of the happiest times in my life when I was on an acting tour after drama school and we all, about 20 of us, spent the summer touring round Devon. We were all living together, helping each other, and having fun.

What about the composition?

It’s a bit of a weird composition as it’s boxed in by the room, and almost symmetrical being split by the two windows either side of the central table. So, it’s almost broken up into rectangular boxes.

The space is also flattened by the heavy ‘patterning’, but the shapes and colours bleed into one another destroying the pattern and, a bit like Doig’s painting, it almost becomes an all over painting. However, the windows give it a depth and create an ‘out there’, separate from the intimate, ‘in here’.

My eye is drawn to the clock, top middle, which makes me think of time. And that like my glorious Summer, these moments are fleeting.

Against this patterned, chopped up claustrophobic interior, the people, who both blend into and stand out of the background, make a harmonious whole so the composition makes all the separate people into one collective person.

What style is the work in?

I think the style is magical realism. Magical because it’s trying to capture a feeling and a transient dreamlike present, which is, at the same time, very real when you’re in it. As if all your senses, like the colours, have been heightened.

Realism, not in the sense of photo realism, but experientially.

What colour palette has the artist used?

Bright, lively, harmonious.

This matches the psychology of the moment and the people… these are privileged, leisured, bright, lively people who are all blending together into one group, just as his colour palette.

What is the subject?

His subject is the moment. The will-o’-the-wisp of a glorious summer morning on holiday with friends.

Has he painted this before?

I’ve just looked through nearly 400 of his paintings and none of them paint this subject. Which is very interesting as it makes me think this may have been a particular moment he wanted to capture, and that it was painted soon after the event. But that’s pure speculation.

Other artists?

I don’t know but I suspect, in as far as everything has been painted before, the answer must be yes. However, I don’t know of anybody who has regularly painted it, nor can I remember a painting that captures it.

The Impressionists painted bars full of people socializing, but that’s not the same magic as a small intimate group.

What’s the significance of the title?

I feel sure it is significant as it’s so specific and suggests an event, a particular morning after a particular night, that he wanted to record. Maybe it’s mentioned in his diaries, or by one of the people in the painting? However, I can’t find any mention on Google.

Breakfast places it in the morning after the night before, they are close and intimate, so I think ‘Breakfast’ is important. It positions the viewer. The people in the painting spent the evening together, maybe drinking, having fun and are now having a leisurely breakfast… easy in each other’s company.

Villerville is important as it’s a small seaside town on the channel coast of France. It was a fashionable place for the rich Parisians to spend their Summer. Even if you don’t know where it is, and I suspect most Parisians would, it has a capital letter and ties the painting to a place.

So the title, even without the details, is important in its specificity in positioning the viewers gaze on the painting.

What’s the date?

1910 – France

I’m sure the papers were filled with news but looking back as a non-historian, and not knowing Vuillard, it’s difficult to know what was significant for him. Nothing major like a world war or stock market crash… however, there was a big flood in Paris in January, when all the Metro stations bar one were flooded, which he would have experienced.

Artistically, it reminds me of Impressionism, which was at its height 1870-1880 but would have still been very influential in 1910. Even though he was a member of the Nabis… this still seems impressionistically based, maybe just a bit flatter.

The main point being that he was swept along with the artistic movements of Paris in the early 20th century.

What medium has the artist used?

Oil

Oil was the main painting medium for large paintings for professional artists, so I think the choice is less significant than it would be today.

What about the support?

Board

It’s interesting he chose board rather than canvas.

I wonder if it was because of cost… was board cheaper? Or because he liked the surface qualities, maybe it was smoother than canvas, more like paper, and was easier to push the paint around for his style of painting? Or perhaps there was a political or social association which are now lost to us?

Where is the work exhibited?

Private collection.

It’s now a classic painting by a famous and very collectible historical painter, so is as likely to be in a private as a public collection. Though I suspect it was always painted as an object of beauty to hang in a rich man’s house rather than as a public work of art… I don’t think the concept of public/political art, or the museum market existed then as it does now.

So, it’s hanging in somebody’s house like it was always intended to. Unless it’s in a vault, of course, as a financial investment.

Visual responses:

The White Canoe: Mixed media; compressed charcoal, oil pastel and gouache on drawing paper; 29.7 x 42 cm

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This was great fun to do and visually it all started to make sense. As I worked (I set myself a time limit of two hours) I unravelled more and more colours, echoes, bounces… it was a thrill to do this.

I think the choice of mediums was good for the subject as the colours blended but kept fresh… I used the compressed charcoal to darken my colours as I didn’t have any black oil pastel, and couldn’t mix the oil pastels on the paper to make black, and that worked well. I used a little white gouache to whiten some of the whites that had got dirty, add snowflakes and paint a few of the silver birch stumps.

I’m pleased, I think it’s very effective and I could see myself working towards painting in this style.

Breakfast at Villerville:

Pastel on drawing paper, 29.7 x 42 cm

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Am not happy with this but learned a lot.

I think it was a mistake to choose pastel, the colours got dirty and the medium was wrong as it had no bite and the colours wouldn’t ‘take’. Dust blew over the whole painting and even though I tried to brush/blow it off it didn’t work and muddied all the colours. I wanted to build up layers of colour but this medium, or at least the way I used it, wouldn’t let me.

However there are small areas that are working and surprised me, such as the artist, sofa and some of the figures. It was more effective before I ‘cleaned it’… as this took the pastel back to my first application and destroyed a lot of my work.

Very interestingly, this was much more difficult to copy than the White Canoe as it was much more patterned. When I started to try and copy it I found there was very little representational meat on the bone, it was on the very edge of abstraction and pure pattern (though when I’d looked at it as a viewer it had made complete sense) on so I found myself decoding it and imagining the room. So my ‘copy’ is much more representational than the original.

A seemingly random pattern that’s not random is very hard to copy, you have to understand it. Also, Vuillard has a particular style of working… flattening, pattern making, quick expressive marks that you have to master before you can capture his style.

I suspect, that Doig works in a way that is an extension of what I’m already starting to do so is easier for me to match, whereas Vuillard is speaking a different language that I haven’t started to learn yet.

Reflect on your own work in relation to theirs.

My work is much simpler and more visually realistic than either Doig or Vuillard. My work is clinging to a visual reality rather than  offering a magical other. The other being an imagined magical world, like Doig or a ‘magical’ present like Vuillard.

This is how I would like to paint.

I would like to be free from the photographic distance that sharp accurate, tight painting brings. I would like to put my viewer inside my paintings, not for them to stand outside as observers. I would like them to lose themselves in my magical kingdoms, and would be equally happy for that to be an imagined world, as in Doig, or a magical personal experience as in Vuillard.

Also, unbidden, I sometimes see paintings in everyday life, the colours change, the shapes change, and the framing changes… I would also like to be able to paint that.

That I don’t know where to start is somewhat daunting, but that I know where I want to go is very exciting.

 

 

 

 

 

Exhibition: WHISTLER AND NATURE; January – April 2019; The Fitzwilliam Museum

I spent an afternoon at this exhibition on Thursday February 7th 2019.

https://www.fitzmuseum.cam.ac.uk/calendar/whatson/whistler-nature

The exhibition is split into two parts, his prints and lithographs (where you can take photographs for educational use), and two bigger rooms with more prints and a few paintings whereby you can’t even take photographs of the blurb.

I will stick some reference material and annotate it in my log book… here, I just want to record the visit.

I spent about three hours and soaked up as much as I could, it was organised chronologically which was interesting because you could see how his life experiences and personality affected his art. For example his quick temper costing him friends and bankrupting him after a libel case brought by Ruskin, which led to him taking a commission in Venice in 1879 for the Fine Art Society; or the drawings he did from the top floor of the Strand in London in 1896 as his wife was dying of cancer.

However, knowing very little about Whistler (only really knowing Whistler’s Mother) this exhibition was a revelation. I had thought he had a dark palette and was obsessed about composition, and though that proved to be fairly correct; looking at the drawings and paintings in this exhibition which were uniformly dour and often had rubbings out and repositioned elements, I made a fantastic new discovery.

The discovery was that he often worked on the edge of representational and abstract art as in Nocturne:

James McNeill Whistler, Nocturne, 1875 – 1877
© The Hunterian, University of Glasgow

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This reminded me of some of Turner’s work, with objects emerging out of the mists.

Here, the image is barely discernible in the darkness and it could almost be an abstract painting. His paintings of the southern coast in the 1890’s, although in the light are equally loose and indistict; I really liked his brushwork, if not his palette which even when bright was muted.

I also loved how abstract and interesting his marks are in his etchings, for example the marks (especially round the door) on, The Mustard Seller: Etching printed on Japanese paper, 1858

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And below an example of how he kept altering his work to find the perfect composition.

Nursemaid and Child: Etching, second state, printed on thin Japanese paper, 1859

(He changed the nursemaid’s face and nose)

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Apart from being on different coloured paper this change radically alters the focus of the etching.

Finally, lots of his prints and etchings looked like drawings, I wonder if it was a way to make more money as his prints could be put in books or sold individually many times for the same amount of work?

 

 

 

 

 

 

1001 PAINTINGS You must SEE BEFORE YOU DIE: 2006 edition.

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Farthing, S. (2006). 1001 paintings you must see before you die. London: Cassell Illustrated.

It’s now 28th July 2019 and I’ve just finished this book… I bought it in August 2018, so I’ve been drip feeding it every day for nearly a year.

What a journey, and how my understanding of art has changed during that time… artistically, I’m a different person. And even yesterday, following an East of England OCA event chaired/led by Andrea Norrington on curation my understanding of the whole book has shifted. No longer ‘the word’ of god’ but a curator (he curated the book and the images in it) who is part of an art establishment led by vested financial interests and a network of dependant statuses, narratives, and jobs.

It is a snapshot of what is deemed successful art in 2006, it may have shifted by 2019 as curation/art criticism and the art world seems fashion led and the narrative of art history is constantly changing: this is just the narrative line of one man at one given point in history.

I would highly recommend this book as whether you agree or don’t agree with the choices and subtext it gives you a very clear idea of what is considered (or was considered in 2006) high art against which to pitch new ideas and fashions in the art world. And when put with other information helps you begin to see how the art market works.

It’s also a great reference source for starting your research, as several paintings by the same artist are often considered over time by different critics. This leads to some very interesting biographical details, as different critics pick up on different things; plus the they have different opinions so it’s like a mini history of art criticism over about 50 years.

I wrote the notes below in February 2018:

I picked this up in a Tesco lobby charity book sale months ago for 50p and have been reading 4 pages a day ever since, so it will run on into this course. I’m up to page 348 (start of the 1800’s). It runs chronologically from pre 1400 to 2006.

It’s not in any way revolutionary, and the prints are too small, but you get a feel for the different paintings and their style. And the comprehensive blurb gives you a taste of the artist’s life and connections, and the artistic winds he sailed. Each blurb is by a different author though they all have a very similar style.

So, it would be a good first port of call to start researching an artist or movement as there would be visual references and names/movements to list for further research.

What I’m getting most out of it at the moment is just how much artists are a product of their time, not only because they follow certain fashions to sell paintings (which is usually a death knell artistically) but how they are a bell weather for their society. And just how influenced they are by their education, social position, current ideas, social movements, artistic contacts and personal circumstances.

This, of course, begs the question, is art only art if we know about its production?

Certainly that knowledge can enhance our experience of art, but can art ever stand outside the society and person who birthed it?

This raises a further question, other than beauty, what is left of the old masterpieces which were so powerful and radical? Those painted as propaganda for church, state or rich individuals (which is most of traditional art)? When all the nuances, people and history of the paintings have moved on, making their political and social meanings irrelevant, what is left? I would say all that’s left is the wonderfully beautiful superstructure. So, is a lot of art education about revivifying artistic corpses?

This also puts in mind that other kind of meaning, human meaning. People do not change, basic human drives don’t change… technology, fashion, society, political structures come and go, but humans remain constant… mother’s love their children, there are rich and poor, people love beauty in their lives, people betray each other and others die for their ideals.

So, are eternal meanings more to be found in paintings that express a way of seeing the world, like being inside the artists head, whose ‘meanings’ are not verbalised but speak  visually direct to our subconscious?

Which raises another question… whether modern art in its present form, of being inaccessible to ordinary people and being predominantly word based, in its explanation and examination of society, isn’t art but better classified as visual philosophy? That it is society debating with itself, and led by an academic elite, rather than mass communication based on beauty, where the ordinary viewer could enter into the canvas and explore its world, and its meanings are accessible to all?

There is also a debate to be had in who controls meaning… in the same way that the church was once all-powerful and controlled meaning through its system of clergy, with the congregation disenfranchised and powerless, who were the interpreters of God’s voice. So now we have a caste of critics interpreting the artist’s godlike voice, reified into the physical and social structures of museums and universities, exercising great power, and creating an art market which they, not the public, control.

And just as the early church frowned (and sometimes outlawed popular images as idolatry, and looking at beautiful landscapes as a sin, which it saw as feasting one’s eyes on beauty rather than on God) and ridiculed ‘common’ art, so popular art is belittled by many critics today as being not art at all. I suspect this is because if the public took back control of art it would threaten their wealth and status, and a lot of careers, and public, money, depend on that status.

Of course, as in any argument, some supporters attack the other side rather than debate with it, but I think there’s room for both definitions of ‘Art’. My problem is not with modern art, which is a wonderful tool for society to examine itself, but with the people in modern art who ridicule and belittle popular art.

On the other hand gallery art doesn’t care about meaning, it just cares about financial value. Interestingly that value often seems to be attached to beauty with meaning, as in traditional art, with super rich individuals paying millions for paintings like Peter Doig’s White Canoe. This is a whole different market and is ruled by a whole different set of rules, such as art as investment, with a different set of gatekeepers.

All this is important as I work out my position in the art world, and where I want to go. At the moment I want to make beautiful paintings with meaning (like Peter Doig, Edvard Vuillard, Matisse, Hopper, Picasso and Pierre Bonnard) which the viewer can enter into, either as a magical world or without conscious thought, and don’t need to be explained and validated by critics before people can enjoy them.

Equally, I don’t want to paint beautiful but empty paintings… highly skilled but with no emotion or connection to the canvas. Of course, selling paintings will hove into view after finishing the degree (but that’s a long way off). For now my focus is on growing and learning, and having fun… but along the way I’ll be chuffed as punch to sell anything I’ve painted to help with my fees.