On the last day of 2006 I made several pictures of grasses in the snow. They were in a field near the woods I’ve been frequenting for my series of Sourdough Trail photographs. Although that series is concerned with complexity, at least in part, the grasses were classic studies in simplicity.
I feel that I am as much drawn to minimal subjects as complex ones — certainly when it comes to photographs I would like to own — but few of my own images are minimalist ones. Is it possible to encompass both complex and simple images within a single, coherent style? Or do they represent ways of looking at the world that are too different? If you saw both kinds of images in the same show, would you sense that the artist did not have a “mature vision”? Do you work in different “styles” at the same time?
Steve,
(1) I saw an exhibit of photographs from Mexico in the mid eighties in Washington, D.C. Most of the pictures showed what I recall as simple shapes; for example, large stark white houses with dark shadows. There was one photo with complex lines, a little girl playing in a swamp. I liked all the photos but I bought the one showing the little girl. I cannot check on the name of the artist because I am on vacation.
I was intrigued that the picture I purchased was so different from all the others. I was delighted not bothered by the difference: my reaction as an amateur art collector .
(2) At that time, I was captivated by Richard Estes. I remember looking at the landscape of the beautiful North Shore of Long Island thinking how difficult it would be to paint the foliage of trees the way Estes painted the Cityscapes.
(3) I had been thinking how different our environments are. You are faced with the immense wilderness of Montana and I am only in the small wilderness of a National Lake Shore. But from now looking at your pictures of the Sourdough Trail, I find that there is the similarity of exploring a limited space.
(4) I love the haiku of your Sourdough Trail pictures.
That was tight. When I first opened my browser, I thought I was looking at one of my drawings. Very cool crossover! Lovely image.
But on diversity, here’s my two pence. There’s a saying among comedians which I first heard courtesy of David Spade: “You spend your whole early career trying to find your hook, then then you spend the rest of your career trying to get rid of it.”
His was “It’s called <blank>. Check into it.”
Blue chip galleries will tell you they are looking for an artist who has “gelled.” But that’s an early career characteristic. It has to do with marketing more than art. It is easier to promote someone who has a distinct and memorable style, but one need only stick to that style for a few shows; after that, diversity can fly again.
Some of the best artists in the world tend to be highly specialized. Some of the best artist in the world tend to be highly diverse. The question is: are you good at all the styles? If you exhibit you really have to have enough of each style to show that you’re not just getting an occasional fluke, that you have several distinct modes of expression, but for your first shows, it might be wise to do what the marketeers recommend — give people a peg to hang their hat on, then later, show them your variety.
Steve, I tend to think of “styles” as superficial looks that artists try to fit their work into, but that may just be a semantic issue on my part.
I do work in different ways at different times, generally because there’s a different core concept driving each different body of work. The style of each, if there can be said to be one, grows out of the concept.
For my thesis show in grad school, I exhibited work that could be said to have been painted in about a dozen styles, but there was a narrative thread that held the show together, so it all worked. If I have works that grow out of different core concepts, I tend to show them separately. It’s not only because of marketing, but because I want each world that I create to stand on its own.
I have worked in several different styles and media (which seem to demand different styles – if by style you are referring to the look of a particular piece – an interesting discussion unto itself), from printmaking/mixed media to video to installation to straight up paintings. I always come back to painting, but I find other media refreshing and exciting and I often get really interesting feedback on it. I consider myself a very amateur photographer, but it is the medium that has influenced me the most lately and from which I get a lot of ideas and images.
Steve, your work makes me miss the wild wild west of Idaho where I lived for 3 years! That place has made a permanent mark on my soul!
Steve,
Look at the portrait style of Jan van Eyck in his portrait of his wife — a painting which is the embodiment of minimalism — and compare this to one of his complex-scene paintings — for example, the Ghent Altarpiece. Jan van Eyck mastered the full range from simple to complex composition. I have seen both “styles” in the same show, but it never occurred to me to ask the question, “did the artist have a ‘mature’ vision?”
You write that you are “as much drawn to minimal subjects as complex ones.” You are in good company.
I cannot see the photograph well because of my internet connection here in Germany. I suspect that a border around the image might be a good idea though. The photo is so minimal that it seems to lose its edge and fuse into the white ground of this website.
Steve, until I read Karl’s comment above, I thought I was looking at a really lovely pencil drawing that you did when you were out taking photos.
David,
An interesting and easily understood confusion. Actually, one thing I thought I should return to this year is simple Chinese brush drawing, which works very well for this sort of picture.
Regarding styles, I meant to use the term to imply anything and everything that makes a piece recognizable as produced by the artist in question. Sometimes it’s really easy to “peg” someone, but often you have to study an oeuvre for some time before you can tell.
Karl,
I actually intended the bleed of the image into the background, though I’m not sure how effective its. Thanks for the van Eyck cue; I’ll have to look up the portrait in a book, hopefully one I have at home.
Leslie,
I’d love to hear more about how photography has influenced you and given you ideas.
Steve,
In response to you:
“I’d love to hear more about how photography has influenced you and given you ideas.”
Off the top of my head photography has influenced me in a couple of major ways:
1. I recently have been looking at photography and mystery. Meaning that I used to take the “reality” of the photographic image for granted, and it used to really limit how I looked at it. Photography was so literal for me – it couldn’t become anything else than what it was.
But lately I see so much potential in photography to introduce more open ended stories or images (the cookie/water and snow photo we looked at recently comes to mind!), and this helps me think about narrative potential in representational painting in different ways. I have a book about melodrama in photography (sorry I am at work and don’t remember the title), and a lot of the photographers seem to accomplish a story by creating a frozen moment with lots of potential. The images make me wonder what came before and after. And compostion also plays a role. Nan Goldin is one who comes to mind as creating a narrative beyond the edges of the photo, although she is not in the book I mentioned.
2. Capturing fleeting moments of time. I think about this a lot, esp since being part of this blog and writing with so many photographers. It is a “duh” thing for some maybe, but for me revolutionary to catch these moments on film or pixels and then be able to go from there. So whether you paint from the photo or just jump off from it into other imagery – the technology allows me to work on my current series, as they are views from under bedsheets…painting under there would get extremely hot and I get to shoot hundreds of images before choosing what I want to paint. When I did a series of paintings of open mouths, photography and video were invaluable as well, for obvious reasons. Asking people to pose for the photos was hard enough, much less asking them to hold the pose for any length of time.
Ironically, photography has allowed me to paint some of my most mysterious, open ended work. SO something I used to take so literally has opened a new world to me!
Leslie,
That’s fascinating about narrative and mystery. I guess they go together naturally since, from a single provocative image (“compelling fiction”), you can’t be sure what happened before or after; an element of mystery enters. Although a photographic image is not necessarily different from a painted one in this way, I can see how the change to a more “realistic” medium could highlight this aspect in a new way. Nice example of cross-fertilization of different media!
Steve, thanks for asking Leslie that question. I too found her answer most interesting.
I don’t think a mixture of styles has much to do with “maturity,” though. A given exhibit has to hang together, but there are myriad ways to manage that and each venue has its own peculiarities that must be managed along with the art.
Perhaps Birgit has the insight that works for me — a change of “style” (however one defines it) within a single exhibit can be restful, can add a bit of zing, can postulate a more interesting mind at work. I’m not much for monotony, I guess.
I also love it that the photograph looks like a drawing — that’s an additional zing.