ESSAY THIRTEEN – THE IMAGE STORY

If you’ve read along so far, maybe you are willing to go along with one of my main tenets, that it is more important for the prospective or developing artist to figure out how to access their own inner spirit and voice, than it is to worry about skill and craft. Technique can always be learned when you need it.

So, how do I find this inner muse? Why do all of us look at a blank page in our sketchbook, notebook or on a computer screen and wonder, “OK, where is all of this creativity?” To hearken back to the old Wendy’s ad, “Where’s the Beef?”

One of the easiest and richest sources for us to explore is our own memory. While memory is vast and all encompassing, I am referring here to a specific aspect of memory that I will call an “Image Story”.

An Image Story is name for your memory of a specific moment, relationship or event in your life that stands out from everything else. While we all have millions of memories, hearkening back to the kid who lived next door to us when we were six years old, to what we ate for dinner last night, most of these memories have no particular importance other than to record the event to which they are linked. A few images, however, are far more vivid, far more important to us - they are images that are never very far below the surface, and seem to represent to us moments of great importance. These are memories that not only recall but help us define who we really are.

These images are important. They are special, and their importance seems at first glance way out of proportion to what actually took place. They are often not major events such as marriage, a death, or a birth of a child, but for some reason they have that sort of significance. They are incidents or situations that “pop into our conscious”, unbidden, for no apparent reason. They may involve an action on our part, they might be linked to a trip or social happening, or they could exist as an isolate, and yet to us they feel like they have significance. They are important, even if we are not sure why.

One aspect of these images is that they are always personal. Although there may well have been other people who were present, we suspect those people do not place the same importance or value upon it. These are incidents that seem to rotate around us, and they are memories that focus our own feelings turned back upon ourselves. We know that although the specific event may seem commonplace in the telling, the reality is that there is far more than what is apparent. They are multi-layered and deep.

They feel like they are benchmarks - that they are epochal events, and that they define something important. Psychologists refer to a “peak experience”, an event or happening that is so significant that it is elevated far above mere normalcy. These Image Stories have that personal quality. Other memories and incidents are compared to it to establish a priority of importance and significance.

They also represent personal turning points in our lives. Though they may not have felt significant at the time, in retrospect we realize something happened here. They are defining and clarifying, they are crossroads traversed, bridges built, and rivers swum. They could represent the dawning of a new realization, a change in our direction, a new viewpoint or opinion, an introduction of a value or a belief. They are a confirmation. They are an affirmation of belief and self. They are the moments we learned to know ourselves a bit better or understood ourselves a bit more deeply.

They are important because they are such an integral part of who we think we are. We would be a different person if we didn’t have that memory, if we hadn’t lived the life that formed that memory. They are a window that allows us to see something beyond and something within - something worth knowing, seeing, understanding and certainly remembering.

OK, now I have offered a brief description and definition of the Image Story, and in the next section, I will offer some suggestions and guidelines as to how to find them, and what you can do with them. For now, let yourself wonder a bit about what I am getting at, and perhaps play with some of the thoughts that might emerge.

ART THOUGHTS TEN

Sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast. Giorgio de Chirico

The job of the artist is always to deepen the mystery. Georges Braque

You are lost the instant you know what the result will be. Fernand Leger

ESSAY TWELVE – The Very Idea!

“Wow! Where do you get all of your ideas?”

For many people who dream of becoming an artist, the actual “idea” seems to be the most elusive. Where do you get that initial idea, the spark, and the inspiration - the “AHAH” light bulb over the head? To the non-artist, or the aspiring artist, those amazing, creative flashes of insight seem arcane and magical, and in truth, those catalytic moments are one of our most precious commodities. They are the source, the inspiration and in all probability, the reason that we do art in the first place. Out of nothing, something. . In viewing or reading the finished art piece, the initial idea, the starting point, is invisible, while all of the other aspects of the work of art are quite visible and easily evaluated. When looking at a completed work, often it is what we don’t see that was the inspiration and its’ reason for existence. The creation of art is often the result of joining idea and object.

To help, I’d like to draw a distinction between idea and subject matter. The subject is what you see, what is in front of you. Children’s pictures and stories are heavily loaded toward subject – a house, a tree, my cat, etc. In primary and elementary school, these simple subjects were what we relied upon, but when we got into secondary school or the university, we discovered that we were expected to abandon simple nouns and adjectives, and deal with abstractions – our writings and images were more sophisticated, and hopefully, richer. Something to consider – when we abstract, we take something obvious and concrete, and alter it in some personal or symbolic way. One result of that alteration or transformation, is that the origin may not be immediately recognizable. Even though it may have grown from that same house, tree or cat, the point of origon may no longer be obvious. A cat, whether or not it is a realistic image of little Puffy Poo, licking his paw, or an unrecognizable swirl of color or sound, that represents little Puffy Poo racing around the bedroom with a sock, is a subject. An abstraction, is not an idea, it is merely a different kind of cat. Ideas are far, far more powerful.

It is tempting to feel that as we move through our prosaic lives, we encounter nothing of import, nothing of merit – certainly nothing worthy of being our “art muse”. A wonderful example appeared on a blog entitled Tales From the Overground, written by a young woman in London. She is a self-described “hobo” and she collects stories, incidents and observation gleaned from her travels about the city, and the following overheard dialogue she transcribed is a wonderful potential art source:

The teddy bear

"Oh Andy he's such a lovely bloke, I call him my teddy bear."

That's nice I thought as I absent-mindedly eavesdropped.

"I mean seriously, he is such a lovely bloke.” Her friend made a sound like "hmmm"

"He has just got out of prison though". Her friend turned to her.

"Oh yes" she said”, what did he do?"

"Manslaughter. Although don't know how they got it down to that. He did reverse over the bloke. Twice"

"God!” Said her friend.

"No but seriously he is lovely. You just can't push him or he'll loose it"

"The thing is" said her friend "There will always be someone to push him"

The woman paused "I hadn't thought of it like that"

saturday, february 28, 2009

posted by unpaid intern at 10:28 am http://talesfromtheoverground.blogspot.com/

On the surface, if you happened to overhear this, it is easy to dismiss the conversation as nothing but silly chatter between to young women. However, if you listen more closely to these few lines of dialogue, just think of the wonderful insights you have gleaned. You could write many paragraphs about the “girlfriend”, her judgment, her neediness and perhaps her grasp of reality. The heart of any good piece of storytelling is conflict – just what will be the reactions of the girl’s confidant? Will she try to break them up? Will she succeed? Imagine writing eight to ten more lines of dialogue where you allow the “listening” woman to present her ideas to the girlfriend, and how those ideas are received.

Story telling is one of the core concepts of any art, not just writing. When you take the actuality of the overheard conversation, and transform it into what might be or what you want to be, you have started the process of abstraction. This is one of the steps necessary in proclaiming yourself an artist. The good news is that subject matter is all around us. Look, listen, and carry a small notebook.

Looking, listening and observing are a start, but it is only when you make those snippets you encounter your own, do they start to have meaning and impact. I’d like to narrate a brief story:

I was teaching a yearlong art class to 15 and 16 year olds. We had started a unit on painting, and after covering some fundamentals; their assignment was to create an acrylic painting, based upon something that was deeply important to them. I promised they would never have to reveal the source of the idea, nor talk about what the painting represented to them– our only critique would be based upon what the rest of us could see. We had talked briefly about abstraction and the use of symbols, but the style and choice of image was up to them – my only restriction was that it couldn’t include somebody else’s story – Superman, Harry Potter or a copy of the latest Anime’ character.

“W”, who was the most promising artist in the class, divided her canvas in half horizontally, and the top, she carefully painted flat light blue and the bottom flat dark blue. Precisely in the middle of the “horizon” line, she painted a small, almost childish boat. Since this class was fourth period, immediately before lunch, it wasn’t unusual for kids to bring their lunch to class and stay and work. She did, and worked on her painting, never changing or adding, just going over what she already had. She finally told me during lunch one day, that the boat was Noah’s Ark, during the 40 days and nights rain.

A bit concerned, I mentioned to her that the assignment was to focus upon some deeply held personal belief, fear, memory or dream and not someone else’s story I asked if she was deeply religious, as perhaps her belief was her subject and the explanation for her imagery. She mentioned she was not religious, and that she had rarely been to church. Since the nature of my assignment meant that I was not allowed to dig, deeper into her idea, I gave her some pointers on perhaps making the water more dynamic or some detail to the boat, but basically, she worked non-stop, without any obvious change.

One day, while we were alone at lunch, she opened up. The boat, the Ark, represented her. Inside the boat, where we couldn’t see them, was her family. Her mother had been spiraling down into a deep depression for the past three years, and rarely came out of her bedroom. Her younger sister was becoming a social butterfly in seventh grade, and W was afraid she was also becoming very sexually promiscuous – perhaps due to her absent mother. Her father, unable to cope with his family life, rarely came home before nine or ten at night, and spent most of the weekend at the office. W saw herself, as the only salvation for her family, and she prepared meals, cleaned, took care of the rest of the family and tried to hold off the advancing waters of destruction. She was Noah, saving mankind.

Let’s go back to subject matter vs. idea and inspiration. The subject matter for W’s picture was simplistic, childish, and frankly trite for a 16 year old. Had she not finally shared some of what was inside, I obviously would never have known, and in all likelihood evaluated her project rather harshly – she obviously didn’t try very hard. Just as obviously, I now knew that her painting was as filled with passion, fervor and feelings as intense as any painting I have viewed, but also her passion was bound tightly in restraints that attempted to hold off desperation and destruction.

While over the next few weeks I was able to get her to visit with one of the schools councilors, and her family received some much needed help, I would like to return to the subject/idea topic. Without her information, I would never have known what was behind the deceptive simplicity of her work, and in truth, as her teacher I might well have given her a less than stellar evaluation. Because we had a warm relationship, I was able to understand a great deal more about the child and also her art, even if I had not been aware of the painting’s meaning. But, even if I had never discovered any of the layers of meaning, hidden in that simple painting, W would still have had the experience of presenting something of herself to the world, and knowing the satisfaction of real creation.

Over the next few essays, I would like to suggest some ways that anyone can access dreams, memories or feelings that will supply them with more ideas than they can ever use. And if, like W, you are afraid that by revealing, everyone will know your secrets, that is not the nature of art. Her painting was plain to her, but until she felt safe enough to give me a roadmap, a Rosetta Stone, it was just a dopey little boat on a bland sea.

If anyone out there has stories that they would like to share, I would love to read them. And, as usual, if you have comments, criticisms or suggestions, please either post publicly or send me an e-mail.

ESSAY ELEVEN – Hoops Dreams

The plaintive cry is often heard – “I’m not good enough to be an artist.” My premise is, that it is not about being “good” but about being brave and having desire. Before you demure by pointing out that really, you are not very good, let me tell a story.

Several years ago, I volunteered to host a French high school student for a local, English immersion program at my home in Atlanta. One weekend, all of the exchange kids in the group were going to get together at the home of another host family, and then go off to a beach at a nearby lake. I brought my student to the designated home, where about thirty teen-age boys and girls were waiting for the rental bus to arrive. They were all in Speedos and bikinis, and the guys decided they were going to play a pick-up basketball game at a court that was in the yard. They leapt, they twirled and jumped, and they passed behind their back and made acrobatic moves all over the court. They looked wonderful and the girls screamed their delight. There was but one thing wrong; only about one in four passes were completed to another player, and in fifteen minutes of watching, with perhaps fifty attempts, only one basket was made.

It was obvious they had seen many NBA games on TV, and they were athletic and coordinated, but it was also obvious that they had never played basketball in their life. They had the desire, they imitated the moves, they played to great acclaim, and they had a great deal of fun. Were they playing basketball? Yes. Did they have the requisite skill? Absolutely not – they stunk! Did they care? No! There are two points I would like you to consider.

The first concerns the skill that is required to perform art well. I am not implying that skill is not necessary, but I do feel that it is often over-rated. The first few times you try something; you are usually not very good. If it is something important, and if you have the desire to do better, why then, learn the skill and practice. It is that simple.

Skill is not art; skill however, can improve the impact of the art. An author or poet does not have to know how to spell although it certainly comes in handy, because spelling can be corrected later. It is not necessary for a writer to develop a thirty thousand-word vocabulary, but if you have those words, it certainly give you more options.

If you wish to create, there are four steps that are necessary. You must convince yourself that you have something to say, you must give yourself permission to take a chance, you must bravely reveal what you keep locked up inside, and finally be courageous enough to actually complete it the deed. You can take a class and learn the skills as you go, but there is no teacher who can make you brave. Scouts for professional sports teams scour high schools and colleges all over the country. They are looking for attitude, spirit, drive and “heart”, because they know fully well, the training and skill-building can take place later.

Clearly, that group of French kids were terrible basketball players. Any fourth grade American P.E. class could have given them a run for their money, and every evaluative criterion you could bring to bear would have pointed out how inept they were. It was the worst basketball game you could imagine – they sank one basket, and almost every shot was an “air ball”. On the other hand, it was delightful to watch. It was imaginative, exciting, graceful and full of youthful joy and life, and as far as anyone of the young people involved, boys and girls, it was wonderfully successful. It was a tangible manifestation of what they wanted to achieve. Would they have been excited if some of the balls had actually gone into the basket? Sure. The point is, they knew that they didn’t have the specific skill involved in sinking baskets, but they were not inhibited by their lack of skill, the goal was the fun of the doing. If this is not one of your major justifications for being an artist, all of the skill in the world will be for naught.

The creation of art is not a battle between creation and skill; the two compliment each other. If I am excited about the prospect of being a painter, I will have more options than if I just learn some techniques of using acrylics and something about color theory. It may not be a requirement of self- expression, but it adds to my self-confidence and it also opens up new avenues and it gives me more possibilities.

Let’s talk some more about basketball in general. Watch a random group of kids at a pick-up game at the local schoolyard. The players are either shooting or blocking. It may not be good basketball, it may not be following all of the rules of the NBA, and it may not be as enjoyable to watch, but it is basketball. If the players are content to play a sloppy game, shooting at a bent and saggy rim with little form and concern for fouls, this does not alter what it is; it merely alters how well it is done. If, in the future, one of the players decided that basketball seemed like a worthwhile goal, he certainly could go through the discipline of learning the skills, just as many youngsters do, by standing on the court or in front of the garage and taking endless shots, lay-up, free throws and dunks. Do this, and you will get better - that is the nature of learning skills - improvement is a function of practice.

At this point in your quest, my argument is that it is good to minimize your concerns about how skillful you are, and whether you really have talent. You might also find yourself wondering just why you want to be “creative” in the first place. The world does not need another landscape painting or another poem about young love. Your mother didn’t send you to school because she needed pictures to stick on the refrigerator. It is the difference between intrinsic and extrinsic motivation

The need for art and artists is an intrinsic need, as opposed to an intrinsic one – it comes from within instead of being motivated by outsiders. Nobody every requested The Last Supper, Beethoven’s Fifth, or Pride and Prejudice beforehand. The artist must provide both the inspiration, and all of the other physical qualities that help the viewer or reader decide how well you presented your inspired work.

As artists, we need to take the same risks those young French students did. If we are fearful of expressing something important because we don’t feel we have the requisite skill, or something valid to say, we miss out on the enjoyment of the doing. Many years ago, in his “Dune” series, author Frank Herbert incorporated a mantra, oft repeated, “Fear is the Mind Killer.”

Creativity is our source, and our access to this font of ideas, inspiration, and wonder is easily blocked. While the skill may be easy to recognize (which is probably why we make the mistake of believing that the observable skill is the actual art product), the underlying idea and its source are invisible. To the non-artist, ideas seem to arise out of thin air, and this concept of nothing becoming something illustrates one of the dualities of art.

When looking at someone’s completed work, it is easy to see the subject matter, the skill (or lack), and all of the other physical attributes. What we don’t see is the inspiration and reason the piece of art exists. Remember, it is the hole, that mysterious opening that pierces the heart of the pastry, which defines the doughnut.

Our next few essays will deal with where our own personal inspiration is hidden, and offer some suggestions as to how we can access it. As always, I encourage you to leave comments (either on the blog or by e-mail), and questions are welcomed.

bobsouvorin@mindspring.com

ART THOUGHTS - NINE

For the mystic what is how. For the craftsman how is what. For the artist what and how are one. ~William McElcheran

I am for an art that is political-erotical-mystical, that does something other than sit on its ass in a museum. ~Claes Oldenburg

An artist never really finishes his work; he merely abandons it. ~Paul Valéry

ESSAY TEN - THE CHARLATAN

It is daunting to become an artist, be it writer, actor, dancer, visual artist or any other expressive field. Perhaps one of the more frightening obstacles we face is the fear that we will be discovered. No, not by American Idol, the Museum Of Modern Art or Random House, we try to convince ourselves that we would welcome that. No, it is the everyday folks that we are afraid of – we fear they will discover that we are a sham, and that we have feet of clay. Don’t believe me? OK, try this if you dare.

In the next few weeks, every time you strike up a conversation with someone, work into the conversation: “Oh, I’m an Author (Artist, Singer, Poet. Actor – you get the idea). I’m not talking about a line that implies that you’ve always dreamed of being an artist (along with a fireman, an astronaut and a millionaire), but one that states: I AM, or I am seriously working on it. Pretty hard, isn’t it?

We don’t acknowledge that label, because we know for a certainty that they won’t believe it. They will discover that we are a faker, a fraud, and a charlatan! It’s sort of like proclaiming yourself a beauty queen – as soon as people take one look, they will double over with laughter, and then it is “hiding under the rock” time.

The flaw here is in equating our need and desire to produce art with some exterior, objectively quantifying physical attribute. Please remember, being a dancer means that you will move, relate to, and express yourself through movement, usually in accompaniment to music. That may not make you a GOOD dancer, but it does make you a dancer. Good comes through practice.

We are fearful of owning our desire, because we are afraid that the measure of art is quality and exterior, objective standards, but in that area, we are wrong. Certainly, the public proclaims beauty queens, and the public grants fame. The chosen are voted upon, by judges, box office receipts, or fan club postings and are anointed. None of us is quite sure what Paris Hilton and her ilk do to be worthy of fame, but they have won the ballot, they have been elevated. Even if she has no quantifying observable skill or talent, she has become famous for just being famous.

The good news is, an artist does not have to be voted into the club, you don’t have to know anybody, nor can you be blackballed. All you really need to do is to be willing to self-proclaim “I am.” It is the singular act of bravery of “coming out!”

In future essays, a theme that will arise several times is the difference between desire and skill. You may want to be a writer, painter etc, but are you good enough? Classes, schools and personal instructors, who offer instruction in the arts, concentrate upon skill and technique. They offer proficiency and expertise, but those traits by themselves do not aid or encourage the act of spontaneous creativity that is the starting point of artistic expression. They can assist in making your creation more satisfying, but they are not a pathway but a follow-up. They come later.

The next essay will perhaps make this clearer and develop a framework for understanding. Please comment.

bobsouvorin@mindspring.com

ESSAY NINE – A VISIT WITH GRANDMA

For many of us, there is a real turmoil between wanting to be an artist and feeling that we have nothing of any import to say to the world. We look around us and see paintings that that are filled with mystery and importance, and we read novels or poems that show an awareness of the rich and nuanced tapestry of life. Even our photographs seem flat and uninspired when we compare them to photographers who reveal truths that lie beneath the obvious subject matter.

Perhaps that last line may hold a key. “Truths that lie beneath the obvious subject matter.” How do they do that, what does that mean, and perhaps, most importantly, how do I access that ability?

First a word of assurance – very few artists, whether they be musicians, painters, writers, sculptors or poets have a life of wild abandon, surrounded by bizarre and outlandish people, while living in a yurt or among banditos on the Argentine Pampas. As a matter of fact, if you passed by one of those artists in the mall, at Starbucks or filling up at the gas station, you would probably never notice them, for, on the surface, they are probably every bit as ordinary (and boring) as the rest of us.

Where they may well differ, is in their vision. Not what they LOOK like, but what the SEE. Artists are people who have developed the skill and ability to see beyond the simple and superficial, and extract detail, meaning and incongruencies in their world – the world of the physical (what they see and hear) as well as the world of their mind (what they think about and their reactions to the stimulus. An artist has the ability (or willingness) to see more than the obvious and to put her own stamp upon it.

I don't paint things. I only paint the difference between things. ~Henri Matisse



The artist's world is limitless. It can be found anywhere, far from where he lives or a few feet away. It is always on his doorstep. ~Paul Strand

The artist does not see things as they are, but as he is. ~Alfred Tonnelle

I would like to give you an example of what I mean. For many of us, a family trip to visit Grandmother was not an unusual thing, and if we felt moved to describe the occasion, we would rely upon remembered details: how long was the drive, how many people were there, and perhaps whether or not you enjoyed yourself. In other words, the account would be factual, or at least as factual as memory allowed. The details we supply are those of location, quantity and time. They are small newsp[aper accounts.

For the artist, however, the critical aspect of the narrative would be not be whether the house was painted blue or green, and not whether grandmother had chocolate chip cookies, but impressions, feelings, incongruencies and most importantly, how it all affected her. Let me quote a short narrative, written by a friend who lives in Texas:

Fairy Tales

Grandmother's old, two-story farmhouse in the Rio Grande Valley was a magical place. The black Ford my parents owned rattled down the solitary road lined with exotic palms curving in lazy loops, swaying against the sky like green nets in shallow water. We were kicking up dust, leaving civilization in our wake and so made our way down the winding path to the porch entrance. I waited, as befitted a miniature adult in the back seat, fighting back the impulse to embrace adventure, breath held in.

Oblivious to the buzzing in my head, I behaved.

When the formalities of familial greetings passed shortly thereafter, I endured the obligatory remarks from the adults about my more positive attributes and made my way outside their field of vision as quickly as practicable, bypassing the back yard of Grandmother's farmhouse, a place of dread for me and avoided if at possible, as it was patrolled by a singularly unpleasant feline with smokey gray fur named Sylvia. Her pink tongue showed as if it would like to have rolled out of her mouth like a snake's fang, when she hissed hello. Her entourage of roosters and hens with mean bead-like eyes scratched the earth mercilessly.

The hollow sounds of tractors echoed and was heard along with the field workers shouting to each other in this solitary setting with its yellow land and sky. The Sisters (my mother and aunts) communed with each other amid ornate furnishings in the parlor leaving some personal space for me to escape past them to the second floor, away from Grandmother's oriental rugs and the small soldier, a French Renaissance figure who dominated the marble side table, standing vigil there. He held a saber with his sword arm thrust upward.

The few men like my father, who had managed to stay in the good graces (or not) of the Adams girls vanished noiselessly. It wasn't hard to imagine them suspended in time until an alarm sounded by the soldier broke the spell and allowed the hands of the clock to move forward again.

It was a world that set up residence in my mind, unlike any other place I could imagine, isolated in memory, an era, a culture and the eccentricities of its guardians, the Sisters. So, while the women talked among themselves, I indulged my curiosity, investigating each room, one after the other until I opened a door and having opened it was compelled to step inside. In its interior pinpoints of bright light drifted in the air currents, muting the visual impact of an odd collection of objects stacked randomly on the floor. I picked my way thru the odds and ends to a rocker and looked out the windows facing cultivated rows of dry earth from two of the room's four walls, finally letting my eyes settle on the less harsh vision of the floor and roam there thru the assortment of mysterious goods. That is when I saw a miniature still life of a field of bluebonnets. The carved frame was gold. The little painting became my frame of reference for the magic I experienced that day. Maybe the bright, wet looking colors made such an impression because of the contrast to the bleak unpromisingly sight of the world outside stretching forth to an empty horizon.

The women told me there was no such room, as I tried to share with them in their magic circle, under the umbrella of evening's darkness, where it seemed appropriate to talk about such matters. This host of beautiful women, who made up my world, lost their bigger than life aura, once I understood that their power could not see into my world or know my secret and not knowing, they could not possess it. The knowing was my treasure.

SARAHLAH Life On the Blue Planet

http://lifeontheblueplanet.blogspot.com/

Notice, while there certainly is detail, it is internally anchored into the perspective of the young girl telling the story. The descriptions are evocative, personal and subjective, and by the time we finish reading, we realize that the information presented has told us a great deal about Sarah, and virtually nothing about the house, Grandma, or its location. While we may not be able to ever discover the whereabouts of the property, Sarah has allowed us a very intimate and compelling visit with her.

Artists look beyond the obvious subject matter, and allow us to see more than what is there, and most importantly of all, they are willing to put their own personal stamp upon it.

Artists don’t point to interesting things they may encounter, but rather allow us to experience those interesting things through their eyes.

ART THOUGHTS EIGHT

The artist does not see things as they are, but as he is. ~Alfred Tonnelle




An artist is a dreamer consenting to dream of the actual world. ~George Santayana




ESSAY EIGHT A DOG IS A DOG

If you were challenged to make a copy of a Springer Spaniel puppy’s photograph, many of us would throw up our hands in defeat. Even if we tried, we would soon see that it didn’t look enough like a spaniel (or perhaps even a dog) to allow a neutral observer to recognize it. Painful proof of our total lack of talent and ability.

Let’s look a bit closer. Imagine a dog training book with a beautiful, high-resolution photograph of the spaniel, in full color. Wow, it is so realistic, it looks as if it would jump out of the pages of the book and race around your living room. Of course if it did, it would be only three inches high (it’s a book illustration, remember)! It would feel like slick, coated paper, have no doggy smell, makes no sound, and if you turn it over to look at his other side, there is text telling you how to house-break your pet. It is not real; it has virtually no attributes of anything canine - it is an abstraction! Our culture has taught us to buy into a photograph’s reality, but it is no more a dog than a photo of a lavish dinner spread is nourishing.

If, all that you want is a graphic representation of a spaniel, by all means take a high-resolution photo. It will help identify the particular dog, and can also be utilized to distinguish a spaniel from a chow or a terrier, (and certainly from an elephant or a goldfish). It is not art, but it is convenient and helpful. The detail, proportion, and faithful reproduction of texture and color are a function of what cameras do. This is a skill that some artists and illustrators admire, and they are willing to put in the long hours of practice required to learn ‘photo realism.” In its highest form it is called “trompe l’Oeil” Check out: http://www.ericgrohemurals.com/projects.html

We are seduced by the “reality” that cameras portray, into thinking that they are real. They aren’t, and one of the challenges that a photographer (who also want to be an artist) faces, is to get past the seemingly real, to the underlying truth beneath, and to the unique and personal viewpoint and vision of the artist photographer. If you would like to see a wonderful example of a young photographer who has transcended the analytical eye of her camera and produces beautifully evocative, personal images of her landscape and her daughter, visit a Canadian blogger Suzana, http://www.flickr.com/photos/zama-zan/ Yes, they are technically quite good, but more importantly, her humanity, her vision and her soul are also part of each image.

If it is not reality that we are attempting, what is an artist suppose to portray? The answer is in the above paragraph – go past the real, to find the truth. If you want to recapture what a dog is all about, remember the wonderful times you and your dog used to have when you were a child, and give yourself permission to attempt to capture the frenzy, the color, the kinetic energy and love, warmth and excitement that those memories elicit. All art is abstraction, not reality, and you are free to represent your own imagination in any short hand set of shapes, colors and textures that you wish.

I’d like to leave you with some thoughts before the next posting:

SEEKING THE CORRECT ANSWER IS NOT AT ALL LIKE SPECULATING ABOUT THE QUESTIONS UNASKED.

WONDERING PROVIDES INSIGHT UNDREAMED OF BY KNOWING.

TRY LOOKING BEHIND, UNDERNEATH OR NEXT TO WHAT IS TRYING TO ATTRACT YOUR ATTENTION.

THE PERSON WHO IS LOST OFTEN DISCOVERS MORE THAN THE PERSON WHO KNOWS WHERE SHE IS.

A CORRECT ANSWER PROVIDES CLOSURE, BUT FOR THE ARTIST, NOT KNOWING THE ANSWER CAN OPEN NEW VISTAS.

Please leave your comments, criticisms or suggestions. Thanks!

bobsouvorin@mindspring.com

ART THOUGHTS SEVEN

A premise that runs throughout all of my essays concerns being childlike. We are mistaken if we feel that our quest to become artists lies in adult sophistication and mature worldliness.

In an essay about Leonard Bernstein:

“In childhood, Bernstein was an omnivorous consumer of music, blissfully unaware of the distinctions between high and low, elite and pop. He happily took in Gilbert and Sullivan, Yiddish folk songs, Beethoven symphonies, Chopin nocturnes, jazz, bel-canto opera, dissonant modernism, and more or less everything else. Children tend to listen this way – they solemnly chant commercial jingles, and dance giddily to Bach.”

Alex Ross, December 2008.

To become truly immortal, a work of art must escape all human limits: logic and common sense will only interfere. But once these barriers are broken, it will enter the realms of childhood visions and dreams.

Antony Gormley

ESSAY SEVEN – Cave Shadows

Back in the sixties and seventies, a clever catch phrase of the counterculture was, “Reality is a Crutch”. The underlying idea professed to be that you shouldn’t concern yourself with the real world, whatever that was, but to sort of, “Tune In, Turn on and Drop Out”. Supposedly, the world of your parents, the schools, the bosses or the establishment wasn’t worth considering, (too rigid, too uptight, too boring) and the “only reality” was what you created inside of your own head - a head-trip. Of course, if you partook of a few ingested chemicals, that certainly helped the process.

While the inner world of imagination, dreams, spirituality and memory is a potent and vital source for the artist, it certainly isn’t a “better” place than the world of the everyday, nor is it a place to hide and withdraw from the everyday. Our real life interacts with “reality” in too many ways to view it as a negative or frightening place. In addition, our real life is the source for a great deal of inspiration, as we shall discover in later essays.

It has been my experience, that a fear of reality is also what keeps many potential artists from taking those first few daring steps into expressing themselves artistically, whether visually, through writing, acting, dance or music. While our own inner world certainly holds an allure, many are concerned that “everyone else is so normal” that there is danger in looking inward. The outside world is safe, but people who live in their inner world “are weird.”

Part of this dilemma is in presenting this as “The Real (outside) World” and the “Imaginary (inner) World”. Maybe we would be better served if we referred to the real world as the “commonly familiar world” – the world that we all perceive in a somewhat similar framework. We can all look over there and agree that the object is a tree,

While an artist must be able to inhabit both levels of existence, maybe we ought to first question this whole concept of a reality that is knowable at all.

In the previous essay, I utilized the analogy of the butterfly, but now I would like to present a second analogy; one that is several thousand years old, and is often called Plato’s analogy of the cave. The Greek philosopher Plato presented this narrative to point out the unknowable nature of reality, and it will serve us well as a metaphor for the difficulties artists face in their attempts to give substance to ideas.

Plato imagines a man, sitting in the mouth of a shallow cave, facing inward and looking at the back wall of the cave‘s chamber. Directly behind him, just outside of the cave opening is a ledge, and then a drop-off to the base of the cliff many feet below. At the bottom of the cliff is a very large bonfire, leaping and swirling high in the air, up past the cave opening and illuminating the inside of the cave with its flickering light and no doubt warming the man’s back.

As the man sits with his back to the cave mouth, all that is real in the world passes behind him on the ledge. Trees, dogs, truth, love, humans and every other noun. As these “REAL” objects pass by on the ledge, the shadows of these realities are cast onto the back wall of the cave by the dancing flames. Just as the flames are constantly swirling, the shadows stretch and twist - now large, now small, giving an ever-changing shape to that which is real. Because the man cannot turn around, all that he sees are projected shadows of that which is real, but the shadows are constantly changing, and he is unable to tell which projections are accurate and which are distortions. He can see the shadows, and he knows they are projections, and he even knows that upon occasion, the shadow he sees may well be an accurate representation; he just cannot know which is which.

As an artist, we face a similar frustration when we try to make a representation of that which has no real form - our ideas and our dreams. It is a reversal of the cave analogy, as we are attempting a projection of formlessness (our mind image) into form (a picture, a dance or a poem), but the end result is just as daunting. We know there is something important that we are trying to convey, and we know we have tried hard to convey it, but we often feel we have been unsuccessful. We look at the finished product, and because it is not a complete success, we brand it a failure.

Plato is saying that we cannot know reality. All we will ever be aware of is a flickering, distorted projection, and therefore, we must do the best we can. It is not an excuse for not doing, but rather a catalyst to go forward and to not be stuck trying to know what cannot be known, or to realistically portray that which has no real form. A theologian might point out that just because we cannot achieve the perfection of God, that is not an excuse for giving up and making no effort to live a better and more perfect “God like” life. We will be measured by how hard we strive, not by a comparison to perfection.

A bit more on this subject in the next essay. Please let me know your thoughts.

bobsouvorin@mindspring.com

ART THOUGHTS 6

Any great work of art... revives and readapts time and space, and the measure of its success is the extent to which it makes you an inhabitant of that world - the extent to which it invites you in and lets you breathe its strange, special air.  ~Leonard Bernstein, What Makes Opera Grand?




The aim of art is to represent not the outward appearance of things, but their inward significance.  ~Aristotle




 

ESSAY SIX the Butterfly Hunt

“Well, if all of us have wonderful ideas already, and we don’t need to seek elsewhere for inspiration, why do I sit there blankly when I try to draw, or write or compose?  Am I just a dud or do I have permanent art block?”  The short answer?  No, none of the above.  Maybe you’re just looking in the wrong direction. 

To help me illustrate what I am proposing, I would like to present two analogies.  The first will concern butterflies, and second, in the next essay, will involve sitting in your cave.

TO CAPTURE YOUR MIND’S BUTTERFLY.

For this exercise to have its full impact, I ask that you not only read the words, but also participate in the suggested exercises.  It will help to have a drawing pad and some colored pencils, pastels or crayons.  No drawing skill required, and you don’t have to show anyone your efforts!

Get in a comfortable position.

Imagine that you are reclining in a grassy field, in the late spring.  It is pleasantly warm, and you are dreamily looking up, and see a beautiful butterfly hovering several feet above your head.  There is a very gentle breeze blowing, and some of the grasses and spring wild flowers are barely waving and nodding, almost in time with the quiet movements of the butterfly.  The sun is behind the butterfly, and some of the light seems to be coming through its wings and through the flower petals, making them glow with an iridescent radiance.  At this point, stop reading and spend about two minutes (or more) visualizing this scene.  Enjoy it.  You certainly may add anything else to the picture that seems to make it more complete.  When you are done appreciating your creation, open your eyes and read the next italicized set of instructions.  DO NOT READ ON unless you are determined not to do the exercise.

Following are some exercises, but they will not mean as much if you did not try the visualization exercise above.  It’s not too late to do it now before reading further.

Your next step will be to try to translate this wonderful, image into something more concrete.  Read the following questions and then return to your visualization for the answers.  Do not answer the questions from memory or make up answers.

On the butterfly’s left wing, what is the color on the upper left corner?

How many petals are there on the flower nearest to the butterfly?

Sketch the exact shape of the butterfly’s right wing.

Close your eyes and recapture the scene, and try to find the answers to the above questions.  Do not read further until you have made the effort to transfer your image to paper.

For most people, this exercise is frustrating.  There is no problem coming up with the beautiful image in your mind’s eye - it flows easily and is rewarding to do.  It matters little whether your “dream image” was exactly as described or quite different - it is not the image that causes a problem.  The good news: that image is an idea, and ideas are plentiful.  You can form them whenever you give yourself permission, and their subject matter is everywhere.

For many people, the difficulty lies in attempting to take that gauzy, ephemeral dreamlike projection of your mind, and force it into a concrete form.  As soon as you look at the top of the left wing and try and ascertain specifically what color is there (and what shape it is and what percent of the wing it occupies and what specific color is adjacent to it...) the hazy wonder of the image seems to contract and to be far more difficult to visualize.  For most people, it also stops being so wonderful and starts becoming a difficult task with visions of failure looming large.  If the assignment had also been to completely capture that image, in full color, on a piece of paper or canvas, very few would feel that they had been successful.

There are two things to consider here.  The first is that it was not the idea that caused the problem - that image was easy to visualize, and wonderful to contemplate.  Although most people are afraid they are not artists because of a lack of ideas, that is rarely the problem - everyone has more than enough ideas (more on recognizing and validating them later).  The problems faced here were technical skills in implementing the idea - you were not able (or afraid you were not able which is even more threatening) to put on paper what you saw in your head.  If there was failure, it was in your perceived technical ability, not imagination or vision, and the important thing to remember about skill is that it is learnable and will always show improvement if you do one thing - practice.

But there is a second issue to consider, and in reality, it cancels out the concern about your ability (or lack of) mentioned in the preceding paragraph.  If you were frustrated in transferring your wonderful dream image into something concrete and substantive, it had nothing to do with your ability to “see” that color in the wing or even the precise shape of the cloud in the sky.  You assumed that because your idea was wonderful, and you could picture it in your mind, it became necessary to literally transfer that idea onto the paper.  Anything less would be failure.  You made the common assumption that being an artist meant that you had to be able to almost take a digital photograph of your dreams.

What you attempted probably can’t be done (not by you, not by anyone).  Even if you could do it, you would have accomplished nothing, because what made your dream image wonderful had nothing to do with the specific color of the wing, but rather with the impact, the image had on your awareness.  Your image was wonderful because you created wonder in yourself, and that was the quality you should be translating.  The reason “seeing” that particular color was so difficult may well be that that particular color was really unimportant to the vision.  It may well be that it was the SHIFTING colors of the wing that held you in thrall, or perhaps the blurring haze of the flowers nodding in the breeze.  It might have been the light or the warmth on your face from the sun, it might have been the memories that you superimposed over the scene from a vacation, a time with a lover or from your childhood.  It might even had nothing at all to do with the butterfly, and your pleasure may well have resulted from the satisfaction of being allowed to dream.  Any of the elements listed are what art is all about, and it has nothing to de with how well you are able to render insects.  Unless you are commissioned to illustrate a field guide to butterflies of North America, art is hardly ever all about the literal subject matter.

The message here is simple; if you are trying to portray an abstraction (and ideas are abstractions), you must portray them abstractly.  As soon as specific subject matter takes the place of symbolism and idea, you are thinking more like a camera and less like an artist.  In the case of the butterfly image, perhaps we should have tried to portray our emotional response to the scene SYMBOLICALLY, rather than literally.  What colors make you think of warm?  What shapes make you feel tranquil?  What objects make you think of being eight years old and Grandmas house?  What are the colors, smells and tactile sensations of your lover?  How blurred or sharp edged should your images be. 

If you were to visit Africa and fall in love with the herds of Springbok and Wildebeest thundering across the Veldt at noon, going to the zoo and seeing one Springbok standing in a cement pen would hardly convey the same feelings.  In a literal sense, it is a perfect “copy” of what you saw in Africa (a Springbok is a Springbok), but as art, it would be a failure.  Perhaps the image you needed to produce while contemplating the butterfly would not contain a representation of a butterfly at all, but some other abstraction of what you felt.  Subject matter is flexible and certainly not sacred, but images are.

These two points are important to remember, because they directly affect your perceptions of yourself as an artist.  If you are not pleased with your results, it is important to differentiate between a “failure of idea” and a failure of technique and skill.”  Ideas are what make you an artist, while proficiency and ability are learned activities - proficiency in any skill is a function of practice.  If you want to hone and perfect your skill, why then practice the skill.  It is that simple.

It is equally important to differentiate between idea and subject matter.  If your goal is to practice your skill by making detailed sketches of an oak tree, it is well and good to evaluate your progress by comparing your efforts to the “real” tree.  However, if your goal is to capture a mood, an impression, a feeling or a emotion, you should be evaluating the symbolic or abstract qualities of your image, and allow the subject matter to be a separate issue.

What an artist has to offer, herself as well as the world, is not another drawing of a cat or a story about Mary’s love life, but an insight as to what cats (and Mary) are all about, and how they inhabit a person’s inner world.

If you have comments, insights or reactions (positive or negative) to my posts, I would enjoy reading them.  E-mail or comments acceptable.  bobsouvorin@mindspring.com