A Passage & A Painting

"Great paintings -- people flock to see them, they draw crowds, they're reproduced endlessly on coffee mugs and mouse pads and anything-you-like. And, I count myself in the following, you can have a lifetime to perfectly sincere museum-going where you traipse around enjoying everything and then go out and have some lunch.

But--" crossing back to the table to sit again '--if a painting really works down in your heart and changes the way you see, and think, and feel, you don't think, 'oh, I love this picture because it's universal.' 'I love this painting because it speaks to all mankind.' That's not the reason anyone loves a piece of art.

It's a secret whisper from an alleyway.  Psst, you. Hey kid. Yes you... a really great painting is fluid enough to work its way into the mind and heart through all kinds of different angles, in ways that are unique and very particular. Yours, yours. I was painted for you." 

The Goldfinch, by Donna Tartt

I know the painting I'm working on isn't necessarily one that you'd connect with. Anton Mengs, the original artist was a court painter and for whatever reason, the King wanted a depiction of the Angel Gabriel and Joseph.

I chose to reproduce this painting because it's large and challenging and skillfully done. Mengs uses techniques that I can only hope to master. My job right now is not to create original work for the sake of original work, but to absorb traditional and technical knowledge so I can render whatever message, whatever emotion in a way that will reach and hopefully touch my audience.

I do love working on this piece, though. I've had help from my teacher, Darin, who critiques my painting and shows me how to make it better. He helps me see what I don't see.

It's nearly ready for color, but I still have a few adjustments to make. 

• Highlights in the hair.
• Soften the edges of the drapery of both figures by bringing out the highlights and using three or four values to push back shapes that are in recession. 
• I need to fix Gabriel's neck, it's flat. His neck just needs a few more values. 

It'll take some time, my plan is to finish it this week! As of last night, the verdaccio has taken 97.75 hours.

Love // Christelle

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

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