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?

. . .

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?

Now on Follow the Painting.

Here are two paintings of pears in which Hanneke van Oosterhout seems to express human personalities.

Look how different are the characters she has painted.

In the first painting, the pears seem innocent, perhaps prudish. In the second painting, the fruit is sensuous and, well, quite the opposite of prudish. In the first painting the pears seem not quite ripe. In the second painting, the surface of the pears shows they are at their sweetest, but will soon be too old.

Both paintings use a bowl to contain the pears. But the tone here is different as are the pears. In the first painting, the blue ceramic, broken and reassembled, has a world-weary character that forms an interesting contrast with the fruit. In the second painting, the bowl serves as a container, but is otherwise more neutral.

The neat folds of the cloth in the second painting are an interesting contrast with the wild disarray of the pears. In the first painting, the tabletop is more stark and hard.

These pictures make one think about what goes on in Hanneke’s mind. “I didn’t paint them like this on purpose!” she insists. I wonder if I believe that.

On the question of how to frame pictures for exhibition, Angela Ferreira commented:

I think the best way to exhibit any painting to appeal to a wide variety of buyers is to display it with a very simple effective frame, or leave the canvas unframed. Framing can be distracting and might not appeal to some — most people like buying a painting and then framing it to their own house style.

Of course, a painting only has to appeal to one buyer — the one who takes it home. In this way, a painting is different from a book or a song. Most people know how challenging it is to frame a picture. If the artist does a good job in choosing a frame, this can save the buyer a lot of effort and decision-making.

The right frame can enhance the value of a painting. But the artist takes a risk in framing, as Angela implies. The time and money invested on the frames may not be well spent.

Should artists consider the frame as an integral part of their work and strive to get it right, whatever the risk or complexity? Or is it better to leave framing to the buyer?

[See the poll at the top of this blog, right column]
[See also post on Photostream]

Here is an example of a painting by Hanneke van Oosterhout that is good, but still needs something. The painting is well developed for all but the fruit. I think some well-chosen highlights could bring them alive.

Another question has to do with the way the foot of the bowl is reflected in the bowl itself. In the painting it seems as though there is something wrong, but the real bowl looks like this. Should Hanneke leave it as it is, or soften it somehow, departing from reality? [Poll]

This painting fascinates me. Hanneke van Oosterhout has painted figs with personality. This is almost a group portrait. I sometimes wonder, “Does the world really need more still-life paintings?” This picture answers, “Yes!” Hanneke is pushing the limits of this genre.