The Advocate

When Alex first introduced me to Picasso's Guernica, I was far from impressed. Unfazed by my snobbery,  he told me how the this gargantuan 11x25 antiwar tapestry would have served as the then Secretary of State Colin Powell's backdrop when he appeared before the UN to gain approval for war in Iraq, had it not been covered up. He told me, "That's the power of an image."

Fast forward three weeks, I'm standing in line waiting to meet Amy Goodman of Democracy Now. Her book, Breaking the Sound Barrier, reads, "A blue curtain was drawn across the tapestry so that the image would not be the backdrop for press statements on the coming war. Immediately, posters and banners of Picasso's Guernica began appearing at the antiwar demonstrations sweeping the globe."

Great artists understand the influence of visual imagery and its power to elicit emotion. Some of these artists are aware of faulty societal conventions and choose to confront it. These are the artists that have the power to incite change. We forget how incredibly privileged we are, but also how much we have left to achieve. Social commentators still exist, activists still exist, and they are motivating positive change for those who don't have a voice. When injustice is overlooked, the artist and the advocate must transcend conventional points of views to bring them to light, sometimes at great personal risk.

I spent President's Day weekend in L.A, visiting museums and eating delicious food. The most significant takeaway from this trip was my evolved relationship with art, particularly with that of modern and contemporary works.

The moment I began contextualizing the works I saw, I began to connect with the art I'd previously written off as arbitrary. Any work can be trivialized to its fundamental components, but when you see a Kirchner painted during World War II, and you realize the significance of the war on the German psyche, the bright color palette juxtaposed with the dark realities portrayed in the piece allows you to step into another human's shoes. For a moment, it's no longer about being German or a painting, but about being a human being, feeling your life ravaged by war.

That's the power of art.

Love \\ Christelle

P.S. The last painting called Burn, Baby, Burn was created by Matta, a surrealist Chilean artist. He greatly admired Picasso's Guernica, and was appalled by the effects of war. LACMA says, "Burn, Baby, Burn work was initially inspired by the horrific attacks of the Vietnam War. In 1965 the Watts riots erupted in Los Angeles when a California Highway Patrol motorcycle officer pulled over a black man on charges of drunk driving. Soon after, thousands of people began protesting the deepest discriminatory practices of the LAPD, reflecting the profound racial divisiveness of the city. Matta saw the Vietnam War and the Watts riots as connected. The cry 'Burn, Baby! Burn!' was coined by the charismatic local radio giant Magnificent Montague, who would shout the phrase every time a piece of soul music got him excited. Listeners in Los Angeles appropriated the cry for the arson that marked the riots."

Art is more than an asset in your portfolio

On Tuesday the New York Times published a piece on a $70 million, 280,00 square foot facility set to host thousands of works of art from the old masters to contemporary artists. The problem?

Only interested buyers will ever see the works inside. (See article here.)

Never mind the emotion art elicits, never mind the power of its message. Let's hope a piece appreciates enough in value within the next fiscal year to make a profit. We've relegated art to commodities trading, pushed aside as another inessential asset effectively cheapening the craft artists have spent their lives developing.

One commenter said, "Conceptual art project: I skip the part about making a painting or a sculpture, and just create a bar code that I submit to this storage facility, noting its availability as an investment. No need to worry about the physical existence of any art object that people actually look at. No need to worry about tastemakers or trends over time; just watch as the demand for this non-object fluctuates unpredictably, just as it will for all the stored objects."

The beauty of art is that it projects the identity of its maker. It preserves the knowledge, the heritage, and the wisdom of the times (or lack thereof). These artists, through their medium, form an interpersonal connection with humans across time. Locking up works of art for an indefinite period of time robs society to benefit a few. But we're not worried about that are we.

Love // Christelle

Space

I've had a very hard time with the new painting. Of the twenty hours I set aside each week to work on the painting I use about ten. Laziness, apathy has affected the quality of my work.

But why?

I put paint to board for the first time almost a year ago. Diverting from pencil, and sculpting a figure with paint was magic. I had so much to learn, so much to experience, I was so excited. I remember the admiration I had for the classmates that were already painting, developing their craft. One year later I'm grasping at straws to regain that same feeling, that same magic.

Some could argue that the kind of painting I do is restrictive. I beg to differ. Some of the greats of the 20th century, who shaped our notions of contemporary art were classically trained. This form of art allows me expression of the highest quality. So that's not the problem.

Could it be stress? Expectation to perform? Anxiety over an unfinished product? The interference of school?

Perhaps this is what Darin mentioned when he cautioned me against "having to paint." The expectation to produce brought on, not by a gallery, but by myself. It's no longer about getting lost in the craft, but by pushing myself through four hours every day to create something. Not because I want to, but because I have to.

For today, my board will remain untouched. I love this craft, but everyone needs space, even from the thing they think they love most. I've spent about 50 hours on the verdaccio and am about halfway done. It's a mesmerizing piece. And huge. The original artist, Anton Mengs, was hailed as the "next Raphael," and I'm reproducing his work. Pretty cool.

On a lighter note, I saw a Banksy.

Love // Christelle