Art & Perception

On the first day of class my freshman drawing teacher had us all go out and buy 9″ x 11″ hardbound sketchbooks. We were expected to carry them around with us over the course of the semester, and draw constantly. Now, thirty years later, I find that I have an encyclopedia set of these books filling a shelf in my studio. Keeping journals/sketchbooks has become an integral part of my art practice and my everyday life.  But the way I use them has changed.

               I think of a sketchbook as something you draw in, and a journal as something you write in. And though I’ve always used the same book for both, I see that mine have evolved over the years, from more sketchbook to more journal. In the early ones I did very involved drawings, sitting for hours doing studies from nature, or drawing people. These days the drawings in my journals tend to be notational, and if I do anything more finished it’s on single sheets of paper. 

              My journals function as sketchbooks, idea books, diaries and scrapbooks. I always have the current one with me, in the bookbag that I carry around, along with whatever I’m reading at the time. And over the years I’ve developed certain conventions for them. For example, I’ve gotten in the habit of starting each entry with the date, time and location, so it’s very easy for me now to look back through them and see when certain ideas initially occurred, or where I was when I was writing about something. I also, early on, started keeping a list on the back page of the journal of the books I read. I list the title, author, and the date I finished reading it, and if the book made a particularly strong impression on me I put a star next to it. So at this point I have a running list of pretty much every book I’ve read during my adult life, including re-reads, and a simple rating system that is useful when I want to go back and retrieve information, or recommend books to friends. When the journal is full I put a number on the spine and add it to the shelf, and I start a new one.

               These journals serve several functions for me. The most obvious is that they’re a place to store ideas so I don’t forget them. Putting them down on paper also forces me to clarify the ideas somewhat, at least enough to put them into words or a sketch, and it also relieves me of the burden of carrying them around in my head. Often seeing the idea on paper helps to spur variations. Sometimes these ideas are visual, sometimes verbal. Sometimes I’ll start with a quick drawing, spin out a verbal list of associations or connections, and then do more drawings. So the journal becomes a place to not only record ideas but also to develop them.

               The journals are not just for my art practice, but are part of my everyday life. I use them as diaries; to record my thoughts, concerns and activities. They are scrapbooks that contain newspaper clippings, postcards and concert tickets. I’ve been writing songs almost as long as I’ve been painting, and the journals contain endless lists of possible titles. It’s pretty obvious how a title can be a starting point for writing a song, but I’ve also had titles launch whole series of paintings. The old cliche about a picture being worth a thousand words also works in reverse –a word can evoke a thousand pictures. Sometimes the same title will result in both a song and a painting. I keep all of these possibilities pretty open-ended, and don’t try to figure them out right away.

               Keeping the journals has taught me a lot about my creative process. I see ideas appear, and then reappear months or even years later, but changed in some way. Like they’ve been percolating under the surface, accumulating resonance and layers of meaning without my awareness. I can read diary entries from years ago, see the things I was excited or worried about, and gain perspective on how they’ve played out in my life. And most of all, the journals are a library of ideas, some terrible and some pretty good, more ideas than I could ever execute in several lifetimes.  I’ve learned not to edit or judge the ideas when I get them, everything goes in, and later when I look back through I pick the ones that are most promising to pursue.

               When people visit my studio and see the journals lined up on my shelf, they say “Oh, you must be very disciplined. I’ve tried to keep journals before, but I always stop.” But the truth is that I’m not disciplined about it at all. Here’s the big secret, the way I’ve been able to keep these journals going all these years – I don’t write or draw in them every day. When you try to do something as a discipline, like a diet or a New Years resolution, it’s easy to start out very gung ho, then miss a day or two, and decide that you’ve failed and you might as well give up. In my case, sometimes I’m working in the journal several times a day, and other times weeks will go by without an entry. But I’ve always got it with me, so it’s there when I need it.

I’m sure many of you keep sketchbooks or journals of some kind. In what ways is your process similar to mine? How is yours different?

Stephen Dietz is a playwright I admire greatly, not only for his wonderful, beautifully crafted and deeply insightful plays, but also for his incredible attention to process and craft.  Once, after watching Stephen listening intently to an actor reciting lines that Stephen has just revised during a workshop of one of his plays, I asked him why it was so important to him to hear the words read aloud.  He told me he had learned, long ago, that when he was confronted with a choice in his writing between meaning and sound, to go with sound every time.

A few years ago, I had the extraordinary good fortune to hear one of Stephen’s lectures, in which Stephen proposed what he called “The Four Seductions” – pitfalls that ensnare us and seduce us away from the real business of creating art and instead lead us down blind alleys and stymie our growth as artists. 

Stephen’s list of the Four Seductions is:

• Distrust of Beauty 
• Disparagement of Craft 
• Criticism 
• Blaming the Audience 

Distrust of Beauty – In the current art world, it’s fashionable to advance our work by making it ‘edgy’.  There’s a sort of consensus that ‘beauty’ has been done to death, and that if a work is beautiful, then it  must be passé.   There’s a sense that since beauty is a quality that’s awfully hard to pin down, that it  must therefore be unimportant, and that striving for beauty is a fool’s errand.  It’s a whole heck of a lot easier to provoke an emotional response by doing art that’s gratuitously offensive than it is to make art that arouses a passionate response by making something beautiful.  Because of these pressures, it’s often the case that we’re not attentive enough the place of beauty in our art.  And, before we get caught up in the “I don’t want to just make pretty things”, I’d like to quote Eolake Stobblehouse, who wrote that “Note that beautiful does not necessarily mean pretty. Pretty is Beautiful’s popular sister.”

Disparagement of Craft – Likewise, there’s a sense that craft is not what art is about, and therefore it’s unimportant.  Thus we get plays that are poorly structured, with poorly written dialogue and hopeless plotting, offered up with the excuse that because the subject matter of the play is socially relevant and ‘edgy’ (note the implicit disparagement of beauty) we should excuse the poor craft.  Stephen told an anecdote about going to Europe with his family and some friends, and seeing all the glorious sculptures done by Michangelo, Donatello, et al.  He asked his friend (a sculptor, apparently) why no one did representational sculpture any more.  His friend replied “Because, Stephen, it’s Very Hard to Do.”  Craft is sometimes hard, and the temptation to slip one past can be overwhelming. 

Criticism – It’s far easier to criticize than to create.  There are lots of artists in the world who look at work and say “Hey, I could do that, and do it better”.  But somehow, they never seem to get around to doing the work – they’ve been distracted by the flush they get when they elevate themselves above the productive artist by picking apart work that’s actually been done.  Stephen suggested that when you catch yourself engaging in some criticism, that you should look at what you’re thinking/saying.  Are you trying to figure out what went wrong, and what might be done to put it right?  Or are you looking at the work and trying to find ways to run it down so that you feel superior to the artist? 

Blaming the Audience – Finally, when one of our works of art fails, the temptation is to blame the audience.  They aren’t perceptive enough, they aren’t smart enough, they don’t have the right education, or perhaps they simply aren’t sensitive enough to respond correctly to your work (which you feel is absolutely superlative in every respect).  If only we had the RIGHT audience, we assure ourselves, our work would get the recognition and acclaim it (and we) deserves. 

I’m sure I’ve done an inadequate job of trying to capture Stephen’s ideas accurately – for one thing, he advanced all of this in a far more articulate way than I ever could.  But I heard the lecture a couple of years ago, now, and I find that I’m still turning all these ideas over in my head. If you can look past my meager presentation and try to get to Stephen’s ideas, I think there’s a lot there for consideration. 

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.

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Arthur Whitman is an artist and critic writing for on-line and “real” newspapers. He was offered the opportunity to write professionally because of the high quality of the reviews he published on his blog, The Thinking Eye. I interviewed him recently via email. You can ask him questions here on Art & Perception.

Karl Zipser: What inspired you to start writing a blog?

Arthur Whitman: At least two things inspired me. First of all, my move in September 2005 from Boston to Ithaca. I felt isolated, both from the local artists community and from the larger artworld. To some extent I still do, but The Thinking Eye has helped me considerably on both fronts. The other thing was my interest in writing: for its own sake, as a way of understanding art better, and as a way of establishing a reputation as a writer.

Karl: How did the blog help establish your reputation as a writer?

Arthur: I’ve always been told that I write well, so I wanted to apply that skill somehow. Having studied studio art and art history in school, and being the kind of person who devours exhibits and art books, art writing seemed a natural choice. I lack the kind of “pedigree” that would easily get me a standard academic or journalistic job doing this. So one reason (although hardly the only one) that I started The Thinking Eye is show people what I could do. The Ithaca Times (the “alternative” weekly newspaper where I live”) agreed to let me do reviews for them without seeing a resume, so apparently my strategy works. I’ve only done two pieces for them so far, but hope to be writing for them more regularly in the coming months. Big Red and Shiny, a Boston online magazine has also printed one of my pieces. Another one will be coming in October.

Karl: Are you comfortable with being called an “art critic”?

Arthur: I’m increasingly comfortable being called an art critic, although I don’t consider all (or even most) of what I do on my blog criticism.

Karl: You art criticism writing can sometimes be harsh, no?

Arthur: While I do try to be as open-minded and thoughtful as possible (and I believe I’m pretty good at this), some of the art that I’ve written about just strikes me as wrongheaded on one or more levels. I feel my job as a critic is to be honest about this. People should be encouraged to make value judgments about artwork. Inevitably, other people’s judgments are going to be at least slightly different from my own.

Karl: Has your work as a critic changed you attitude about receiving criticism yourself?

Arthur: As for my own artwork, I’m confident that for all its flaws, what I do is complex and intelligent. So I think I would have a hard time taking a critic seriously if they dismissed it wholesale. Of course, that is probably the case for most artists.

Karl: You have studied many exhibitions. What in your opinion is the biggest mistake that an artist, gallery, or museum can make when installing a contemporary show?

Arthur: It depends on the interests and intentions of those involved: the artist, obviously, but also the curators and the audience. You could say that a failure to negotiate among these interests is the biggest mistake.

Karl: Are we living in a great moment in art history?

Arthur: My guess is that although we’re not in one of the greatest periods–such as the Renaissance or the early twentieth century–we’re hardly in the Dark Ages either. But I think we’ll have to wait a few generations to have really a clear idea about this. Today, everything from neo-classical and realistic painting to the most “far-out” conceptual art is being made and has its fans and partisans. I think the sheer diversity of work being made and discussed in the contemporary scene makes it difficult to get a consensus about the health of the artworld.

Karl: Do you see geographical location of art movements as an important factor in art today, as it was in the past?

Arthur: I think its considerably less important than in the past. With the existence and prevalence of the Internet, cheap high-quality reproductions, art magazines, plane travel, huge museums and so forth, we live in a much smaller world than we did even 50 years ago. That said, I do think that visual art generally has a local character. For example, there are lot of artists that you see commonly in European museums that are very difficult to find here in the United States. There are a lot of artists that you can see in New York City that are unlikely to show up here in Ithaca, which is only a six hour drive away (and vice versa). I think that in an era of globalized popular culture, that this local character is worth preserving.

Karl: Do you think the internet harms the development of local art culture?

Arthur: I don’t think of the Internet as having a devastating effect on local art, although I’m sure its possible. When I said that I valued local cultures, I didn’t mean that cities or towns or regions should isolate themselves from the rest of the world. On the contrary, I believe that artists and other serious art fans should travel as widely as possible to see art. The Internet is simply another way of spreading information and opinions about art from all over. I have difficulty seeing that as anything other than positive. Living in a small town, one of my own goals as a writer has been to challenge the provincialism and poverty of influence that I believe prevents many local artists from reaching their potential.

Local art cultures (and local cultures in general) are important because they provide an alternative to the world of mass media, mass culture, and mass production. These systems tend to level out the differences between different places. People around the world can (and do) watch the same movies and TV shows, wear the same clothes, even read the same books. With art, the object is usually either one of a kind or exists as a limited number of copies (as with printmaking, art photography and some kinds of sculpture). So, despite efforts to send these objects around the world, art tends to “stick” to specific areas.

Balancing the local quality of art with the “global village” of the Internet is a challenge, but I am optimistic that good things will come of it.

Karl: Thanks for your time, Arthur. Would you take questions from readers?

Arthur: Yes.

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?

Karl Zipser: Jordan, your blog is unusual because of its broad scope. You write about topics ranging from art collecting to internal medicine, and also publish your poetry and stories there. What was it that first inspired you to start writing a blog?

Jordan Grumet: In my younger years I had written quite a bit of poetry. As I describe in a series of posts, the process of becoming a physician hardened me. It squashed the more sensitive side and I stopped writing. The creative side has slowly worked its way back since the birth of my son Cameron.

I started my blog as a companion to my web site in which I collect and sell art work. In the beginning I concentrated mostly on art topics. My idea was to generate interest in art discussions and increase flow and readership to my site.

Karl: That’s practical.

Jordan: Yes. But reading other blogs, in particular Ed Winkleman’s, inspired me. So I had a paradigm shift. I went from writing solely about art to revisiting my poetry and starting to write creatively again.

Karl: And your blog is the primary place for this?

Jordan: I use my blog to practice the art of writing. Most of my posts are spur of the moment and are made up as I go. Often I do not know where a post or story is going when I start to write it.

Karl: How does the open, public aspect of blogging affect your writing? Is there a feeling of inhibition, or something the opposite of that?

Jordan: I love that my blog is public. Having an audience challenges me, challenges me to continue creating. To give it my best.

I have found that there is an interconnectedness in the blogging world. Recently I posted a story about rape called “Her Blues” at the same time as one of my commentors wrote about her own rape. It was a completely random coincidence. Neither of us knew about each other’s plans. Yet I find that the things I write connect with my reader’s experience. This is highly gratifying.

Karl: You talk about “random coincidence” in what you and others write. Is that really the same as “interconnectedness?”

Jordan: Maybe there is less “random coincidence” out there than we think. When you connect with your fellow bloggers (i.e. read there blogs and comments) you get to know someone in a much different way then when you meet them in person. Instead of being distracted by their looks or even their facial expressions, you are keyed into something much more important . . . their words. It is more intuitive.

I once wrote about how doctors use nonverbal cues to glean information about their patients. I think that something like this holds true among bloggers as well. Sometimes by reading a statement or post we subconsciously sense other’s needs and react to them. Was it a coincidence that we both posted on the topic of rape at the same time? Maybe. Or maybe we both sensed the need in ourselves and in our community of medical bloggers.

Karl: You talk about the importance of communicating with words, but also “nonverbal” communication. I’m confused.

Jordan: I think the word “nonverbal” is problematic. I guess what I am trying to say is that the mood of the blogosphere can be changed by subtleties in how and what people post. For instance if someone I usually read who is a prolific poster all of a sudden takes a few days off it means there is something wrong. Maybe they are having a crisis. Maybe they are feeling tired or bored. These things affect my mood as I post. And whether their posts are light and humorous or serious or sad, these things definitely affect what I write about.

Karl: Can you give an example of this influence?

Jordan: Recently in the medical blogosphere there was a lot of discussion about what was going on with the doctors accused of euthanasia during Katrina. This inspired me to write “A New Orleans Story” which was a more positive look at healthcare in that area of the country.

Another example is with the story “Her Blues”, which I ended on a positive note because I sensed from comments and others posts that some positivity was needed. There had been so much discussion of people’s horrendous experiences among the medical bloggers. Yet these “survivors” were healing, living life, and standing strong. I wanted to recognize that in my story.

Karl: You see the blogosphere as a real community?

Jordan: I believe that the blogosphere is a community. It’s not in the traditional sense a geographic/economic community. However, this frees us to concentrate on what is most essential . . . the emotional ties that bind us together as people. In a good active blogging community you will have a group of people who discuss difficult and often essential life issues. Blogging can bring people together. In many ways isn’t that how we define communities? A group of people with shared goals or experiences?

Karl: But is there not a danger of the integrity of your work being compromised by such a public way of writing?

Jordan: My writing is affected by the blogosphere, but the topics and presentation come from my inner voice. I had written the poem “Her Blues” 10 years ago. I blogged the story “Her blues” (which includes the poem) recently. The stories are innately mine. My interactions in the blogosphere add color, texture, and shading.

Karl: You were frank earlier about starting your blog to increase traffic to your art collecting/selling site. Now that you have made a paradigm shift in your blogging — to creative writing — have you abandoned the economic goal? Are you content to provide your writing for free?

Jordan: My paradigm shift has certainly changed my goals. I still operate my site selling artwork, although sales are definitely down. I would love to feel that my writing appealed to enough people that I could make a living at it (I would really enjoy that). On the other hand, writing has taught me that while there are a lot of things I don’t like about being a physician, I could never stop doing it completely. It is safe to say that my enjoyment in medicine is greatest since I started blogging and writing.

For now I will continue to provide my writing for free and I believe blogging is the best way to do this. I would like to write and have “traditionally” published either a novel or a collection of short stories. Not as much for economic gain but more to get my writing out there for others to see.