Art & Perception

I have to confess that I used to think of still-life as the most boring art from. Hanneke van Oosterhout’s paintings have raised my appreciation of ordinary everyday objects, which is nice. But her imaginary still-life drawings add a whole new level of intellectual and artistic interest for me in the still-life genre.

This drawing of a glass of beer is exciting despite being of a mundane topic. I think that working from imagination allows Hanneke to tap into a new level of creativity (sorry for the lousy pun).

Where she is going with this approach, what will be the final result, remains to be seen.

This snail doesn’t seem to like beer so much.

“Begin to submit yourself to the direction of a master for instruction as early as you can; and do not leave the master until you have to.”

This may be the most significant sentence in Cennino Cennini’s Il Libro dell’Arte, but I did not understand the reason until yesterday. The key is to ask, why does Cennini say this?

. . .

The clue came from Tracy Helgeson, who commented:

“I think almost any kind of job that is free-lance, which an artist essentially is, requires a second, more stable income for a good period of time. Unless one is willing or able to live in extreme poverty and upheaval.”

In Cennini’s time, an artist did their non “free-lance” work in another artist’s workshop, as an apprentice. In this workshop, the young artist developed the skills he would need later, while receiving a living wage. When he established himself as a master, he became a “free-lance” as Tracy says, and got his own assistants.

Nowadays, because artists don’t generally collaborate as a team in a workshop, the artist must often get their stable income from a source not directly related to art. The time in the “day job” is time lost from learning how to be an artist. Cennini recommends staying with the master as long as possible, because this gives the opportunity to learn without having to survive as a “free-lance,” which is what is so difficult for artists today. Herein is the significance of what Cennini wrote some six hundred years ago.

Cennini adds, “There are those who pursue [art], because of poverty and domestic need, for profit and enthusiasm for the profession too.” Not quit the situation today, is it? In our time, art can be a cause of, rather than a cure for, poverty.

…

Tracy Hegelson, Jon Conkey and David Palmer discuss their “day job” experiences in comments to the previous post on art education. The “day job” can provide valuable knowledge, even if it is not the same nature of work as these artists do in their studios. But their comments also confirm the distinction between our time and Cennini’s.

…

Earlier I compared the education of a scientist to that of an artist. A biologist, for example, will spend four years in graduate school (ages 21-25), then another two to four years as a post-doctoral fellow, before becoming an independent assistant professor. The post-doctoral years are some of the most productive in a scientist’s career: free from coursework, free from the demands of teaching and administration, the post-doctoral fellow focuses on research under the guidance of and in collaboration with a recognized scientist. There is nothing comparable for the artist, as far as I know.

Now on Follow the Painting.

Hanneke van Oosterhout started making imaginary still-life in an accidental way, but now she is beginning to focus on it purposefully. Here is one example she drew in about half an hour.

“It’s great to be able to work so freely,” she said while drawing. “I don’t feel stiff. It’s wonderful because you don’t need to look up [at a real still-life], you just keep on drawing . . .”

Hanneke added, “It’s handy, because you don’t have to buy all that stuff!” meaning the objects. But in fact, the objects she draws are ones that she has in her studio (and her memory, of course). This raises the possibility of combining the imaginary image with real-life detail in an oil painting.

Simple: to learn how to make a living as an artist. Art school education, no matter how stimulating, cannot be considered complete if the graduates need to seek other employment in order to support part-time, non-profitable art making.

Of course, the question of “how to make a living as an artist?” is not trivial. It brings together two things: 1) being an artist, with all the personal expression and integrity implied; and 2) how to live from this. Combining 1) and 2) is a serious topic for research. This should be one of the functions of an art education — to do research into how to sell art.

If how to sell art? is a mystery, then finding the answer will be as exciting as solving any other important problem. Advanced education is not only about learning, but also discovering what is not known.

The only problem is, if art schools could really fulfill their mission, they might loose their faculty — the professors would likely go off and do art full time.

…

This post was inspired by Bob Martin, who is on the board of an art school and commented “I would be very interested in learning what artists want from a school and an instructor.”

What do you want from an art school and instructor?

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[Thanks to those of you writing the great comments, David Palmer in particular, for giving me insight into the art school education, where it succeeds and where it fails.]

The is art school worthless? question brought in some amazing comments. Here are two that make it even harder for me to make up my mind on the issue:

Art dealer Dan Fox said “nearly every fine artist of any repute either went to art school or studied with a master for years, or both.”

Artist Rex Crockett replied, “I know a lot of artists who make good livings at art. About half of them went to art school, and half of those, like me, dropped out in disgust. (I lasted one day.)”

Now, how do we reconcile these views?

. . .

When I am feeling adventurous, I cross-post my blog entries on the unmoderated news group rec.arts.fine. If a blog is cosy like a living room (to paraphrase Arthur), rec.arts.fine is like a New York city street at night. You never know who might attack you, but they are bound to be someone interesting. [I add emphasis to quotes below]

Dan Fox asked if I went to art school, and when I replied in the negative, he wrote:

The foundation courses you get in art school, drawing in particular, are crucial to becoming a competent artist. This means regular classes, lots of drawing, lots of teaching, over a period of time. Learning to draw is like learning to play the piano. Books and workshops contribute very little.This is the reason nearly every fine artist of any repute either went to art school or studied with a master for years, or both. The exception is the genius like Francis Bacon, but these people are rare.

Before I could reply, Rex Crockett dropped this bombshell:

Nonsense. What is rare are people who are willing to repudiate a failed education.Good repute? With whom? Galleries, museums, the press, and the buying public do not care at all, not at all, whether you have a degree in art. It simply does not matter. It never did. It never will. I know a lot of artists who make good livings at art. About half of them went to art school, and half of those, like me, dropped out in disgust. (I lasted one day.) This idea that “It is really hard to survive as an artist” is one of the biggest lies ever told. The reason it is so hard for so many is because their work is crap.

Rex doesn’t have much sympathy for artists who don’t sell, does he?

I think that Dan Fox is making a strong statement without providing any evidence. Rex brings in the weight of personal experience, but I think he misses a key point: some artists find it difficult to make money because they continually push themselves to do things that are extremely challenging. It doesn’t mean their work is crap, but it might mean they are not being practical.

There is more to this debate to be read on the complete rec.arts.fine thread.

Thanks to Courtney, Bob, Tracy, David, and Angela for your insightful comments on the original post at my [our] blog.

One lack of comment I found interesting is that no one disputed my statement: “In art, professors and students do not generally collaborate in the process of creation and discovery in the same meaningful sense as they do in science.”

One lesson we can draw from the 20th C. is that total freedom for the artist is not the path to happiness. Never have there been fewer constraints on what an artist can do, and never has the life of the artist (relative to other professions at least) been so wretched.

. . .

The drawbacks of total freedom should not surprise a physicist or an athlete. Certain mathematical problems are difficult or impossible to solve without a sufficient number of constraints. Without the constraints of rules, sports would be chaos.

We can see evidence for the longing for constraints in the most important painting movement of our time: the Painting a Day phenomenon. What is the explicit purpose of this movement? It is a pure statement of constraint. There must be one painting per day. This constraint severely limits what an artist can produce on a canvas. The enthusiasm with which artists are joining this movement demonstrates the hunger for constraints, for simplicity, for order. After all, you can’t rebel against nothing, can you?

But you don’t need to become a Painting a Day painter to have constraints. All you need to do is think about your own situation as an artist and examine what constraints you already have. And then, of course, to appreciate them and make the most of them.

One year I had no studio for a few months. I needed to work at home, so I drew in my sketchbook each day instead of painting. The work that I designed then I later painted and sold for a lot of money. The constraint of having no studio, temporarily, in fact helped me a great deal.

In order to make the most of your constraints, you need to be aware of what they are. Everyone has limitations of time, space, and talent. The particular mix that you have will influence what you do — much as will the mix of your painting medium or selection of your palette. The practical acceptance of constraints is the key to using the constraints in a positive way. It helps to remember that more opportunity and freedom would not necessarily help you.

So, let’s get to work . . .