Art & Perception

If you want to be a scientist, you really should study at a university and get a Ph.D. If you want to be a doctor, you should go to medical school. But if you want to be an artist, will art school help you? Only about half of the successful artists I know went to art school; furthermore, of those who did go to art school, their formal education seems only incidental to their success. What do you think? Is art school a good investment?

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In the Renaissance, an artist apprentice received training from a master by working on the master’s projects. In the most important art how-to book of all time, Cennino Cennini wrote “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.” The master had a strong incentive to teach, because good assistants were essential for fulfilling a major commission. Teaching was thus not separate from the master’s own creative work. Instead, it was critical to the productive success of the studio. The result was that apprentice and master collaborated in the process of artistic discovery.

A related method is used for teaching at the highest levels of education today. For example, a graduate student in biology will do research in a specific laboratory, under guidance of a recognized scientist. Only a small part of the student’s education comes through classroom teaching. The scientist has a strong incentive to teach the craft of working in the laboratory to a select group of students, because a group effort is necessary for major research projects. When scientists complain about the burdens of teaching, they are referring to teaching in the classroom. Good scientists know that teaching in the laboratory is essential to success in research. Graduate students thus learn to be scientists in the laboratory, collaborating in the process of discovery.

Art education today is a different story. Artists get paid to do “classroom” teaching at art school. But teaching in this mode does not contribute directly to the artist’s own work. Instead, it becomes an impediment. 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. The reason probably has to do with our modern notions of artist: the artist (and therefore, the art professor) is supposed to be a loner in the process of creation. Scientists are not burdened with this notion, any more than were artists of the past (which is to say, of course the issue of credit is important, but it is not debilitating to the field).

I did not go to art school, but I had a valuable art education in my high school with one of the most remarkable art teachers in America — Walter Bartman. In his classroom, and on frequent painting excursions, there was an exhilarating sense of collaborating in a process of discovery. An interview with “Mr. Bartman” will appear soon [is here] on Art & Perception.

I think that still-life would be of little interest as an art-form if it were a pure reflection of inanimate objects. And yet it is precisely the “still” aspect of this genre that makes it of special interest to painters. The artist has the time to study fine details, or subtleties of composition in a still-life that are more challenging when painting a portrait from life, or a cityscape on a crowded street.

Hanneke van Oosterhout was recently “trapped” in a smoky cafe for hours with nothing to do. Fortunately she had her sketch book with her and she made these two drawings from her imagination.

Something about these drawings pleased her. When she was able to return to her studio the next day, she attempted to construct a real still-life that combined aspects of the two drawings.

This still-life drawing is nice, but it lacks something that we can see in the imaginary drawings.

Comparing the real and imaginary drawings, we can easily see the important differences. The real still-life, like most of Hanneke’s still-life pictures, is a centered composition. It has a conventional feel of balance which is somewhat dull. The imaginary still-life drawings are both unbalanced, with the main weight of the objects skewed somewhat to the right side.

Another difference is evident in the perspective. The vessel in all three drawings is seen directly from the side. To achieve this constraint in the real still-life, the fruit on the table top is also seen from the side. But in the imaginary still-life, the table top and fruit are seen from a different perspective, from above. We seem to look down on the table top while looking at the vessel from the side. This merging of different perspective points lends an interesting quality to the imaginary drawings. When drawing more or less literally from a real still-life, this quality is lost.

Does the real still-life need to be drawn from only one viewpoint?

Are there other fundamental differences between real and imaginary drawings that I have missed?

The typical Painting a Day picture will be a still life. If it is, you can be more or less certain that it will be painted “from life,” as opposed to from the mind. Are the members of the Painting a Day movement inherently unimaginative, or is working from the real objects a fundamental aspect of the genre of still-life painting?

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A successful contemporary Dutch still-life painter once told me, “I have no imagination, I’m only a pair of eyeballs.” Indeed, still-life and painting “from life” are so closely linked, it is reasonable to ask, why would you even want to make a still-life from your mind?

Hanneke van Oosterhout recently drew this imaginary still-life while in a smoky cafe. She was dreaming of her studio. Later she tried to construct a real still-life like it (see Follow the Painting.) Hanneke found that her imaginary still-life had aspects that were difficult to recreate with a real still-life. I find this not at all surprising.

Drawing from imagination is a great way to study your feelings about a topic. It makes sense that the still-life of the mind would be something special, something difficult to recreate in the world. Have you ever made an imaginary still-life? Did you find it had something that made it different from any real-world still-life?

Posted by Jon Conkey

As an artist who has spent most of his employed life in the arts, (in many diverse fields), I have had to humble myself to criticism many times for shear lack of credentials. At first, this was very uncomfortable to bear, I hadn’t known the gift of honest opinion, insecurity of the “self”, (my own), always stepped in and “botched it” for me, (like a reflex). After-all, how dare someone tell me “what they really think”: Right! I have since learned from my folly, and furthermore, now cherish the “morsels of truth” that others seemingly can’t hold back from sharing with me from time to time.

As an art student, I loved my teacher, (platonically: get those thoughts out of your head!)), he was a master artist, he could draw and paint better than real, and he approached us all as equals, as well as, a friend. I always tried to do exactly what he instructed of me, and I progressed rapidly. Yet some others in the class did not.

I could see the “wince” on other students faces as he approached with his conte’ crayon to make the “needed” adjustments to their masterpieces. It was at this time that I was first introduced to the art of remaining humble, while completely “under-fire”. Though students paid their “teacher” to teach them how to “draw and paint”, they resisted his instruction every step of the way. They knew there were problems with their work, (and they could not figure it out without help), but they also knew what it was they were trying to achieve; (their perfect vision). It was this discrepancy that led to their resistance; they knew they were wrong, but they knew no one could possibly know what they “really meant to do”, ( hence, get your conte’ off my masterpiece).

Learning to accept criticism is the key to finding those missing “links” for an artist. In this day and age of “political correctness”, one need not look far to see shallow compliments and a true lack of substance in criticisms on most “art blogs”. If you like something about someone’s art, why not tell them precisely what it is that you actually like about it. If the need to “enlighten” someone to some obvious flaws crosses your mind, it helps to point out the good things first, (the more the better). This way, when you get to the “knitty gritty”, they will still be glowing from the “accolade preamble”.

As an artist who wishes to be great, (because I am too weak in the mind to know better, and I could really use the esteem, money, fame, yacht, etc.), I embrace those brave enough to let it all hang out, (I am referring of course to opinions, and not the “models”!). One may indeed get to a point in life, where continuous failure in one direction may lead to the possibility that someone else’s opinion may in fact tell them what they already know, (they are really crummy!). Now, what to do with this valuable information! Well, by listening to “others” or “them”, an amazing thing happens, we become aware of what our efforts are actually communicating to those “others”. From this, we can “adjust” our work to get the result we are looking for; then we can use the same system again: “what do you think of this piece?” By gaining continuous feedback, we see directly what others are seeing of our vision, and what adjustments may bring the desired results to the viewer. It is important to note however, one need not act on every comment offered, (nor break down and cry either), some critiques will miss the point completely, others will hit you “like a ton of bricks”, and still others, will show you how ignorant some folks can truly be, (try not to hurt these people). Either way, by accepting criticism (at face value), and not resisting it, (which is the natural tendency), one learns to “see” through the eyes of other’s, (taking the good, and rejecting the bad). Using this “humility tool” to read the accuracy of one’s attempt to communicate their conception to the public, opens many doors which would otherwise remain closed. Also important to remember, is that you are the one in charge of your creation, everything else is just a “suggestion” based on what you have offered for evaluation. As the artist, you are the creator of your image, no one knows but you what it is you are trying to say. Take the input of others to make your statement exactly what you want it to say, using “them” as the “tool” to let you know when you are truly achieving your goals. An old saying from Jesus, “practice who you say “I am”, until others say “you are”. Cheers

Posted by Karl Zipser

Journalist and critic Nancy Geyer made this comment on The Thinking Eye:

. . . it seems to me that too many blogs, even the best of them, are falling into the trap of “I’ll scratch your back if you scratch mine” — they become mutually self-promotional, as if the bloggers don’t have to “earn” the right to be read. When I read a blog I’m looking for a thoughtful, informative, critical discourse without the distraction of all the networking that is going on.

Here is a professional giving free advice. Is Nancy Geyer on the mark?

Now on Follow the Painting.

Writing parallel blogs is the new big thing. Writing parallel blogs makes you a multi-blogger, a super-blogger, a hyper-blogger.

Parallel blogs are more than a sum of the parts (as a house is more than a collection of bricks). But what should we call the new latent structure?

Arthur Whitman suggested “meta-blog”, which I find good, and “personal blog network”, which I find less good. C. Robin Janning suggested “book”, a bold proposition — it requires modifying the definition of this word.

In bookofjoe we see an alternative solution: combine several parallel blogs into one (with a separate archive file for each day). I can’t quite follow it, but I enjoy what I read.

John Foote writes parallel blogs (mm and mydr2) without using a blog at all.

Auspicious Dragon runs seven blogs in parallel (and confuses the heck out of my RSS reader [well, see the comments]).

Do you write parallel blogs? What are you creating between the lines?