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

Hashtag Updates

One. Finished the sketch portion of The Dream of St. Joseph. Sketching on a gessoed board feels like manual labor. I was ready to get to painting.

Two. Started painting. Sculpting a figure or object with paint and recreating a masterpiece gives you a serious power trip. 

Three. I attended my first figure drawing class last Friday. I was terrible. There was so much talent packed in that tiny back room in the HFAC. I'll try again next week.

Four. I went home for Christmas. Yes I've been in Provo for two weeks, and yes the new year started 18 days ago, but it still feels relevant. The best part about Christmas break and being home was falling back into an old familiar rhythm. Besides being endlessly fed, I made it back to my creative roots. I did a lot of drawing while my dad drank tea and read, something we've done for years. 

Five. My dad gave me a tripod head (and a vinyl player #wannabehipster) so we went shooting at Treasure Island. It's an old military base that overlooks the SF skyline. What I'm really proud of, though, is the stop motion I made of me drawing a gem. (See below)

Six. This. Because it's relevant. 

Darin's temporary studio in his new home

Love // Christelle

You Have to Know the Rules to Break Them

In a drawing class sophomore year, our teacher had us pick a bust to portray with charcoal. I picked what I thought was the most interesting face, but it also turned out to be the hardest face to draw, especially with a foreign medium.

The end result I thought looked cubist and I told her, hey, I should just quit now and be the next Picasso. She said to me,

 "You have to know the rules to break them."

Fast forward three years and Wired publishes its third annual Design Issue. In his piece, "Why Getting it Wrong is the Future of Design," the editor in chief, Scott Dadish, recounts the moment he realized the power of selective imperfection when creating beauty. Not necessarily throwing the rulebook out the window, revolting against all conventions, but simply breaking a rule or two for maximum impact. He said, 

"Once i realized what I'd stumbled on, I started to see it everywhere, a strategy used by trained artists who make the decision to do something deliberately wrong... like Miles Davis intentionally seeking out the 'wrong notes' and then trying to work his way back, none of these artists simply ignored the rules or refused to take the time to learn them in the first place. No, you need to know the rules, really master their nuance and application, before you can break them."

Picasso knew the rules. Many founders of various movements knew the rules before they changed them. Which means that taking the time to learn what the masters knew is totally worth it, at least to me. 

Yeah. I'm pretty stoked that the CEO of Wired agrees with me.

Love \\ Christelle

Sunflowers

Van Gogh was a bit crazy, but his art... well, you've seen it.

In the third grade, my teacher Mrs. Walton brought in a print of Van Gogh's Sunflowers for us to see. She gave a little lesson on art and Van Gogh, the details of which I've lost with time. She gave us some crayons and some watercolors and encouraged us to create a masterpiece like Van Gogh's. My classmates started drawing right away, but I couldn't think of anything original to paint other than hills, a sky, the sun, maybe a stick figure. So I decided to do my own take on Van Gogh's Sunflowers. I was so enamored by the piece: how did he make it look that way? My artistic tools were obviously limited.

It came out looking like this:

3rd grade prodigy

Mrs. Walton held it up for the class to see, my mom framed it, I was very proud of it. 

Fast forward 14 years I'm sitting in Art History and my professor pulls up a slide of Van Gogh's Sunflowers. I'm feeling incredibly nostalgic and a bit giddy.

I've had my qualms with modern art. I've said time and time again I don't really understand it. 19th and 20th century modern artists were trying to dissemble the medium, trying to call attention to the art rather than using art to conceal art. Where the Old Masters saw a flat surface as a negative factor that could be only partially acknowledged, modernist painters came to regard these same limitations as positive factors meant to be acknowledged openly.

So that's where I straddle the line. Most of my peers still adhere to this modernist philosophy. I'm being trained in classical academic art. The thing is there's something about certain works of modern art i.e. impressionism and post impressionism, that touches me in ways that classical art sometimes doesn't. I'd like my art to touch people, in a way that transcends class, race, etc and reaches into the core of what makes us human. (A tall order. I may be taking myself too seriously.)

SO

How do you reconcile the personal experience of a modern piece with the power of a classically rendered painting?

Thoughts?

Love \\ Christelle

Just a Relationship

Here's what I learned this week:

• Faces don't have edges, so don't draw them that way.
• Use 3-4 values to create recessional curvature, and eliminate edges
• The reason this technique has us sketch then paint is so we can work out the problems ahead of time with a more malleable medium. 
• If your surrounding values don't look right, then whatever you're trying to depict won't look right.

 

I've been trying to come up with something different, or cool, or exciting to tell you guys. But my relationship with art right now is kind of like that point in a human relationship where you've been dating for a while and you can just sit and do your own thing and not talk. It's comfortable, and yeah you guys do cool and exciting stuff sometimes, but really the two of you have adopted a daily pattern and that's okay. 

I work on this piece when I can, but right now it's mostly on Sundays. It started snowing this week, and my little corner is right by two windows so I'll usually have a cardigan on. I'll pop open a San Pellegrino or a Fentimans and pretend I'm European. By the end of a session I'll have graphite all over my hands and sometimes on my face.

It's a simple relationship. 

Love \\ Christelle

Coming Back

One of my favorite things to do after a lesson in South Jordan is to run up to Utrecht up in Salt Lake City. It's nested in this tiny old street, all under construction, but surrounded notable neighbors including Chipotle and Barnes and Noble. Both of which I visited after picking up some pencil lead.

I finally made it up to South Jordan for a lesson. So much has changed. Darin's getting ready to move to a new home, Kelly's no longer at the Academy, and Kathy's finished her 5 foot by 3 foot painting, which she began glazing.

But there's nothing like walking into Darin's home re-experiencing that wood-y sweet smell that reminds you of how well you fit when you're just working on your art. Belonging somewhere that consistently pulls good out of you. 

Notice how worn Joseph is. His wrinkles, his posture depict the weight of the world. The angel, on the other hand, is perfect, she's idealized. Darin and I discussed the fact that maybe Mengs wanted to differentiate men from celestial beings. What do you think?

Love \\ Christelle