The art that interests me serves a purpose beyond simply
being decorative and pleasing to the eye and emotions. There are behavioral
scientists and evolutionary biologists who believe art has no other reason to
exist than to stimulate the pleasure center in our brains and make us happy.
They contend that unlike those human abilities, traits, and urges that evolved
as survival mechanisms, art is non-essential other than to make existence a little
less brutal (as if that in itself weren’t reason for it to have an important
place in our lives). A colorful shower curtain can give us a little jolt of
joy, but I ask more from a work of art; I want to feel, even if only
instinctively, that the artist has communicated something personal and
compelling. A painting of flowers may be pretty, but it’s less meaningful than
a bunch of actual flowers if the artist hasn’t shared a genuine response to the
flowers. What is it about those particular flowers, at that moment in the
artist’s life, that compels the artist to memorialize them? A pretty landscape
has no more significance than a decorative dinner plate if the artist had no
other intention than to produce a pretty landscape. If we’re to honor the evolutionary
purpose of art in human existence, then we must demand it communicate something
about the artists’ unique and immediate experience of this life.
An artist need never be bored. All it takes is a surface to work on and something with which to make marks. The blank paper or canvas beckons. I define Art as the metaphors with which we share our unique experience of life. Thespianage suggests to me the drama played out in the world around us in every moment, and the act of standing apart and recording what we see and feel in a way that paradoxically connects us to others.
Sunday, September 28, 2014
Thursday, September 25, 2014
I'd always thought of the self-portrait as being someone other than me, as if the subject were a character in a drama. The process of painting myself is not one of flattery, as with most commissioned portraits, but rather of discovery, and I like the idea of stepping outside myself to observe myself. Recently, however, I learned of the late photographer Minor White (1908-1976), whose subjects covered a wide range including portraits, but who specialized in photographing objects in tight close-up so that they appeared abstract. White once declared that every photograph he made, no matter the subject matter, was a self-portrait. By this he meant that the act of creating a work of art is an act of revealing oneself. I've been forced to reassess by ideas about the self-portrait.
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