Friday, May 8, 2015

Does It Really Matter How Old You Are?



When talking about art, we often refer (with reverence to "the Old Masters), while at the same time, much of our culture seems obsessed with youth. The book Old Masters and Young Geniuses: The Two Life Cycles of Artistic Creativity by David Galenson looks at the question of creativity in the arts and how it correlates to age.

In this book, the author uses his financial analysis background to look at these two sides of art. He uses some interesting concepts and theories (often based on selling prices of artists, appearances in art textbooks, etc.), but even when you may disagree with his ideas, it does make you look at some of these artists in a different way.

To simplify greatly, he essentially divides the work of artists into two camps: The exploratory, experimental workers (those who focus on technique and continual growth to convey their vision), and the conceptual artists, for whom the communication of ideas comes first, and the means of delivery secondary.

Many of his ideas are data-driven, and he makes a good case (although we may feel, intuitively that "it's not what art should be about or judged by"), but it is undeniably a new way of looking at things.

Some artists discussed had profound effects on the development of art while remaining virtually unknown to most of us (Paul Serusier's "The Talisman"), or well known (Meret Oppenheim, whose fur-covered cup and saucer "Luncheon in Fur" was a key seminal work for the surrealists, yet basically the only work she is known for).

Paul Sérusier "Le Talisman" 1888, Oil
Musée d'Orsay, Paris, France ©photo musée d'Orsay


He contrasts with artists such as Monet, Calder, Cezanne, etc. who spent years developing their own vision and theories, each work an attempt to meet their goal. In the end, he concludes that creativity is not the province of the young or old exclusively, although there may be pitfalls for both groups.

If you get a chance to look at this (and it's in the QCC library), it would be an interesting topic for discussion).










Sunday, March 22, 2015

Still trying to understand contemporary art?



What is it? What does it mean? and the usual tropes "My kid could paint that", "These people must be idiots/insane/con-artists"...

Is the artist playing tricks with me? Well, sometimes yes. But is that something bad? We enjoy movies, even though we know these are produced with computer generated effects, and the people are just actors playing roles. What about magicians (as as they are now called, illusionists)? We know the woman in the box isn't really sawn in half (although it would be an attention getting show if she were - even though the show would close that night)?

For the person trying to understand (and perhaps even enjoy) contemporary art, one book I have found interesting is: Ways of Looking: How toExperience Contemporary Art by Ossian Ward (2014).

The author has a system for approaching art with an open mind - a "tabula rasa" (clean slate, for those who don't recall the Latin phrase).  Then using a step-by-step set of simple tools to allow users to come to their own understandings and conclusions about the art.





Monday, March 9, 2015

These Photos are Really Sweet!



This article in the online magazine Slate is about a photo series by Blake Little of models covered in honey (warning: some nudity involved). The photos are arresting, and  interesting, but it seems even more so are the comments. Many are focused on the mechanics of the photo shoot, the appropriateness of doing this to begin with, and the usual assortment of "is this art" responses. What do you think?




 
Left: Paul, 2012. Right: Tao, 2012.

Tuesday, February 24, 2015

What is an artist's intent?



Water Lilies by Monet


While listening to a radio interview about a film director, the reviewer compared his work to that of Monet's paintings, with this comment:


"They don't look like waterlilies; they look like how it feels to look at waterlilies."



Water Lilies
Claude Monet (French, Paris 1840–1926 Giverny) 1916–19
Dimensions: 51 1/4 x 79 in. (130.2 x 200.7 cm)

Metropolitan Museum of Art, Gift of Louise Reinhardt Smith, 1983