Art & Perception

Not long ago, Françesca enjoyed typing random letters into a text editor for about ten minutes a day. Now that she is nearing five years old, that doesn’t satisfy her any longer. She learned how to use the mouse, and she’s beginning to understand how to use the Safari web browser. She can spend an hour on-line without a break.What to do? This is the point where Hanneke and I have a choice. We can take the computer away and have our kids grow up in a “traditional” pre-internet household. Or we can let them go online and accept the consequences.

I am of two minds about this. One view is that the kids should be able to grow up in an internet-free home, the way we grew up. The opposing view is that the kids should go online because the internet is part of the world we live in — keeping the kids away from it would be like refusing to let them learn to read or write.

I am torn between these two views, but I am leaning toward letting her go online because:

1. Our kids will come into contact with the internet no matter what we do.
2. By guiding her internet use at home, we can help Fran find and be involved in the positive things on the internet; for example, looking at artwork by other children her age.
3. The internet is intensely stimulating, of course. My response is that we need to make our “off-line” home environment even more fun, more stimulating, so that the internet is not such a magnet for the kids.

Anyone else out there with similar problems / opportunities?

I’ve been reading a lot about how certain conversations and comments have a way of halting the progress of an artist. I was surprised to learn that a positive remark has the same or similar effect for some artist

What happens is that our (individual) need for approval shows up and unconsciously we try to replicate the applause. In both cases, negative or positive, the artist moves away from his or her personal intent to “what can I do that will please others or at least avoid ridicule”. As result the artist becomes “Stopped” and avoids creativity in his or her work.

Does this ring true for anyone? I ask the question looking for ways to support the teaching of art and creativity.

If a Tree Falls in the Forest Does it Make a sound? Only to the trees with ears. I am not at all being funny. Everything is dependent on a tuned in listener. When it comes to art, sometimes there is no one there, meaning that those who can or want to understand what it is that you are up to, are not in the room. There will be others in the room who find your work similar to learning that there is “only” broccoli left in the refrigerator to eat. (Sorry broccoli lovers). This is not the feedback you need.

When having your worked critiqued, here are two questions that need to be in the mix

1. Ask the person who is doing the critic “What does this work (the art, what ever it is) mean to you?”
2. Then ask “What does my work say about me?”

If the answer to number 1 is nothing, then by-pass 2 and go directly to finding another critic.

Now for some Turkey.

Walter Bartman was my art teacher in high school in 1984-86 in Bethesda, Maryland. Students of “Mr. Bartman” were ten times more likely to become Presidential Scholars in Visual Arts than students in other art classes in the United States. Although he retired from high school teaching in 2001, Walter Bartman continues to teach landscape painting in Maryland and in workshops across the U.S. and in Europe.

Artwork in this post is plein air painting by Walter Bartman [click images to enlarge]. This interview was edited for publication together with Leslie Holt
more… »

Posted by Karl Zipser

I made this painting in the summer of 1985, when I was sixteen years old. I painted it over the course of several mornings, standing on a dock in Woods Hole, Cape Cod. This is one of my first landscape paintings in oil.

I was able to do work like the above because I was part of a group of motivated students in the art class of Walter Bartman, a high school teacher in Bethesda, Maryland. more… »

“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.

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.]