With the new studio finally in working order, I’ve been able to get started on new work. I’ve discussed before my inclination to work once again in a truly “reductive” mode. I anticipated that I would pick up where I left off about 3 years ago and start working with wood by process of removal (holes, cuts, etc). Instead, I found myself wanting to simplify. I found myself wanting to work directly with wood and, while highlighting (exploiting?) it’s natural beauty, setting up some very subtle juxtapositions in the material. Perhaps my biggest struggle was allowing myself to be so direct, so simple, so concise. I asked myself many times, “Is this enough?” Or, “Shouldn’t I do more?”
Ultimately, after completing the first piece, I was shocked by its beauty. It seemed successful to me. And I liked that I was unsure about its validity. I felt that I was pushing my understanding of my own work. While this work is not literally reductive (like I’ve talked so much about), it is rooted in a broader sense of reductivism. Again, from the Minus Space Web site:
Reductive art is generally characterized by its use of plainspoken materials, monochromatic or limited color, geometry and pattern, repetition and seriality, precise craftsmanship, and intellectual rigor. Reductive art is inclusive and pluralistic in its approach, including geographic location, age, gender, medium, artistic strategy, and content of work.
What follows is a series of images of new work from the studio. They are shown in chronological order. I’ll also write a bit about the work where it may be helpful in shedding light on some of the nuances of the work.
Not yet titled #1
Walnut wood, Polyacrylic on Birch Plywood
11.75″ x 11.75″ x 0.75″
2009
This was the first piece I attempted in a new mode. I found a source for thin sheets of wood (3″ x 24″ x 1/16″, a bit thicker than normal veneer) and thought that it would enable to work in larger fields of “solid” wood than before. The piece above incorporates two sheets of walnut wood, each cut in half. As you can see, in the top half of the piece I glued down to 1/2″ birch plywood two halves of the same sheet. At bottom, I glued the two halves from the other sheet. Although both pieces are walnut, you can see just how different they look.
My next thought was that the darker half at bottom held too much weight for the piece. In other words, I felt the bottom half dominated the top half in a way. In order to equalize that difference, I opted to play on another level. To give more weight to the top half, I decided to apply a coating of glossy polyacrylic clear. Polyacrylic is known for being one of the most clear mediums available and it does not yellow over time. The bottom half of the piece was then finished in matte polyacrylic clear. While the bottom half of the piece remains darker, the top half is significantly shinier. I was unable to capture the difference in sheen in these images, but in person, it is quite obvious.
This is a side view of the piece above. Here I want to highlight the composition of the plywood and how it relates to the walnut sheets applied to the surface. This cabinet-grade plywood is made up of many layers of 1/16″ veneer core (as seen in the alternating light/dark stripes on the side). The walnut sheets applied to the surface are also 1/16″ thick. The result is that the walnut surface appears to be part of the plywood itself, as if it had been made that way in the factory. In reality, the veneer surface of manufactured plywood is paper thin. While it is a very subtle thing, I believe the interaction of the plywood layers and the hardwood surface serve to activate the piece. For me, looking straight on at the piece reveals a serene beauty. From the side, though, the piece comes alive.
The following pieces are similar to the one above in that the lighter colored wood at top is finished in high gloss while the bottom is finished in matte.
Not yet titled #2
Basswood/Walnut wood, Polyacrylic on Birch Plywood
11.75″ x 11.75″ x 0.75″
2009
Not yet titled #3
Basswood/Cherry wood, Polyacrylic on Birch Plywood
11.75″ x 11.75″ x 0.75″
2009
Not yet titled #4
Mahogany/Cherry wood, Polyacrylic on Birch Plywood
11.75″ x 11.75″ x 0.75″
2009
Not yet titled #5
Cherry/Walnut wood, Polyacrylic on Birch Plywood
11.75″ x 11.75″ x 0.75″
2009
Not yet titled #6
Mahogany/Basswood/Walnut wood, Polyacrylic on Birch Plywood
11″ x 11″ x 0.75″
2009
As is no doubt obvious, the piece above gets a bit more complicated. Here, I’ve mixed three woods and mixed up the composition. The same general principles found in the pieces above apply here too, but there is a slight change. In order to equalize the different wood types, to some degree at least, I’ve used three different sheens of clear coat. The Walnut is matte, the Mahogany is satin, and the Basswood is glossy. You can’t see it in the image, but trust me, it’s there.
Not yet titled #8
Mahogany/Basswood/Walnut wood, Polyacrylic on Birch Plywood
11.75″ x 11.75″ x 0.75″
2009
The same principles as the found in #7 above apply here.
Finally, a piece that is a bit of an outlier:
Not yet titled #9
Polyacrylic on Birch Plywood
11.75″ x 11.75″ x 0.75″
2009
This piece is a next step in exploring the possibilities of working simply with clear coat on plywood (a previous example can be seen here). In the work above, I used glossy polyacrylic clear coating to “paint” the area that has slightly different color. I filled in a ring of grain found naturally in the birch veneered surface of the plywood. For this work, I was thinking about this holes-in-wood piece from 2005. I’m honestly not too sure what to think about this piece right now. I like having “nature” dictate my actions. I like the subtle discoloration of the surface. I like the glossy sheen that comes and goes depending on the viewing angle. I’m not sure where this piece may lead, but I wanted to share it anyway.
As always, I appreciate any feedback you might want to share about this new work. I’m excited to see where it may lead and I will definitely write about that process here. Thanks for looking!
46 Comments
October 21, 2009 at 9:51 am
Hm.
You might remember my saying at one point or another that I love wood. I remember once we were talking and you said you once thought about painting on wood, and then realized the wood was more beautiful than anything you could paint on it, so why ruin it? And I replied I’d had the same idea at times, that I felt wood grain all by itself was wonderful.
In fact today I’m probably going to start stripping the window trim in my son’s bedroom. It took me over two weeks to reveal the American chestnut in my daughter’s room and I thought I’d never do anything like that again, but my wife likes how it looks so much, she wants me to attack my son’s room next.
So I love wood. I really and truly do. And I know you do too, and you certainly have a natural feel for it.
And yet: Hm.
I have to wonder about these. The early ones here could almost be samples in a lumber store, something by the register: “Check out the difference in these finishes!” The later ones, while interesting — you’re sort of painting with wood, making sort of translations of Don Voisines in a way — also remind me of this really nice cutting board a friend of mine made for me. You’d appreciate it, it’s lovely and functional and highlights the beauty of wood. But is it art?
Your use of different types of gloss is intriguing, but I’m afraid you may have taken minimalism too far. Reduce beyond a certain point and you have nothing, of course.
You have to follow your nose, J.T. If this is where you want to go, then go there. It may very well be that these are a good direction; it may also be that these will lead you through into something better. It’s hard not to second-guess yourself, especially if I’m here criticizing you, I imagine, but you have to do what pleases you.
October 21, 2009 at 2:45 pm
Chris,
I thought these pieces might prompt a comment from you. Thanks for offering up your thoughts.
In your first paragraph, it sounds like we both love wood. We’re off to a good start!
“Hm”? Hmmm…. here is where things turn.
I’m surprised you’re asking the age old question, “But is it art?” I put that one to rest a long time ago when I finally just told myself that it doesn’t matter. If you put something in front of me as art, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and accept it. I’ll only concern myself with its effectiveness as art.
I agree that these pieces will likely bring up associations with lumber stores (it is where the materials come from, after all). And you’re right to note the similarities with the sample finishes every store puts on display. I have put finishes of different sheens on top of wood. So have they. Pretty similar approaches right off the bat. However, they’ve achieved their goal once the finish is on the wood. End of story. What those samples lack, in my opinion, as art, is the absence of:
- sensitivity
- careful consideration
- a certain consciousness about the material, the composition, the weight and the application
- the ability to consider other arrangements than matte to glossy on a series of small, uninteresting pieces of wood
I think almost every single work of art can bring up associations with something else from reality. A painting of a reclining nude… well, reminds me of a reclining nude. A painting of a flower may remind me of one in my garden. A solid white canvas reminds me of a black canvas.
I don’t think the question is (or should be) about the work being too close to something that already exists in the world. Instead, it should be about what is brought to the work that doesn’t exist in that similar thing. An artist may bring a little or a lot more to the work. And that is where I think the “art” is. What is brought to the wood, to the canvas, to the photograph, etc?
“but I’m afraid you may have taken minimalism too far. Reduce beyond a certain point and you have nothing, of course.”
I have a few problems with this.
1) I don’t like the word “minimalism” but I’ve accepted it as part of the discourse about my work.
2) I’m presently wondering if I’ve simplified enough. See #3 below.
3) You say that if you reduce beyond a certain point, you have nothing. That made me think, how much would I have to reduce to actually end up with nothing? I came up with the following:
a. remove work from wall
b. Instead of 2 sheens of clear coating, cut to 1 sheen.
c. no clear coating at all
d. no sanding the wood
e. no mixing of wood types, cut to only one type of wood
f. no adding wood on top of plywood, leave plywood as is
g. no plywood at all, nothing
I’m probably leaving out some steps but as a quick exercise, I found 7 steps between my work and nothing. I’m comfortable with that amount of separation.
“You have to follow your nose, J.T. If this is where you want to go, then go there.”
This is absolutely right. And my nose is very much pointing this direction. I have to realize that not everyone is going to be able to see and appreciate what I am doing. But, there will be people who do. And that’s a wonderful thing.
I will say this. The piece at top, with the two sections of walnut, when I finished it I was taken aback by its beauty. I still am, in fact. I don’t know what it is about it, but I honestly believe it’s one of the best things I’ve ever made. Maybe you’d have to see it in person (although several people have and some were unimpressed). I’ve seen a lot of finish samples in lumber stores and I have never been as struck by them – if struck at all – as I am by these works. There’s something more in the work than you’ll find in those samples, I think. And that is what’s important.
October 21, 2009 at 3:21 pm
You sound a little bit like you might have been a little insulted by me. I hope you don’t consider my remarks that way; you know I respect you and your work. And of course you know I believe I’d have to see the work in person to really experience it.
When I ask “but is it art?” I’m asking something kind of specific. To me the question is, if I found this object outside of an art context, lying on the ground in a field somewhere, or at a yard sale, or some place otherwise not associated with Art, would I recognize it as a work of art?
To me this is an important question. Because if the object is indistinguishable from other non-art objects, then what am I looking at? The gallery around the object? The gallery verbiage? An artist’s statement of intent?
You write, “The piece at top, with the two sections of walnut, when I finished it I was taken aback by its beauty.” Of that I have no doubt. But are you in love with the wood itself? Because I love wood, as I wrote earlier. Wood all by itself is beautiful. No surprise there. There’s a reason why burled walnut dashboards cost extra.
But wood all by itself, as intensely gorgeous as it can be, isn’t art.
When I say “I’m afraid you may have taken minimalism too far” I don’t mean I think you have. I mean I’m not sure.
So my question is, while you’re seven steps (at least) away from having done nothing, have you done enough to take these objects from being non-art (like lumber yard displays) into being art?
I ask this somewhat rhetorically. I can’t tell from here and I’m not sure you can be sure, either. Because you made them, and also because, hey, you love wood.
I actually think the associations you mention — the reclining nude, for example — help obscure the value of an object as art. Because those associations are something of a crutch, aren’t they? I see it in my own work: Even if my composition is lousy and colors lame, well, it’s still a naked woman and hubba hubba!
Your job as an artist with these is to prevent that from happening, to get viewers to see these pieces of wood as art, not reminders of dashboards or cutting boards they might like to own. Like my job is to get viewers to see my paintings as more than naked chicks they’d like to get with. Or Mark Rothko’s job was to keep people from thinking, “That’d make a nice design for an area rug.” (Which is what I tend to think when I see his work.)
That’s what I’m getting at here. You have to follow your nose, but you also have to be painfully honest with yourself. That’s the job. The hard part. That’s what makes it art.
Again, don’t read this as: “You have to be honest with yourself. Honestly tell yourself these pieces suck.” Read it as: “You have to be honest with yourself. If you honestly are behind this work (and it seems to me you are so far), then keep going.”
October 21, 2009 at 4:38 pm
Hey Chris,
Sorry if my response came off as being insulted. I actually tried really hard to remove any hint of insult from it. I failed miserably! I was not, nor am I currently, insulted. I appreciate the feedback, even if I have problems with some of it.
“To me the question is, if I found this object outside of an art context, lying on the ground in a field somewhere, or at a yard sale, or some place otherwise not associated with Art, would I recognize it as a work of art?”
This is a worthwhile question, I think, as far as defining art goes. My answer would be “depends” and “does it matter?” I say depends because if the person was sort of oblivious, they might just see a piece of wood on the ground. They might not notice all of the decisions and alterations that are in the work. However, someone else might be totally observant and recognize that this wood is “different.” Would they know it’s “art,” per se? Perhaps not. But they might recognize it has something more.
I ask if it matters because ultimately I think you and I are only concerned with quality. It might be more challenging to recognize the quality of a piece if it is found on the ground in a field, but if it has quality it is still there. It’s up to the viewer to recognize it. Hanging in a gallery just focuses the context of the piece and makes it easier to see quality. It doesn’t create quality, but instead provides a more considered environment for it to be viewed in.
“Because if the object is indistinguishable from other non-art objects, then what am I looking at?”
Another good question… IF it is indistinguishable. If I were to actually unscrew the samples in the lumber store and present them as my work, then we’d really need to consider this question.
“But are you in love with the wood itself?”
Maybe. I think it’s great and that’s why I choose to work with it. But…
“wood all by itself, as intensely gorgeous as it can be, isn’t art.”
But, we’re not talking about wood all by itself. Right? You keep talking about wood, my love for wood, etc… but do you grant that we’re discussing more than “wood all by itself”? That’s the first step to seeing this work, I think.
“So my question is, while you’re seven steps (at least) away from having done nothing, have you done enough to take these objects from being non-art (like lumber yard displays) into being art?”
Yes, I think so. But not everyone will agree about that.
“hey, you love wood.”
Do you talk about this as much to other artists when considering their work? “Hey, you love graphite!” “Hey, you love acrylic paint!”
“Your job as an artist with these is to prevent that from happening, to get viewers to see these pieces of wood as art, not reminders of dashboards or cutting boards they might like to own.”
I’m not sure that’s my job, actually, “to get viewers to see these pieces of wood as art.” I can only make the work and hope that viewers will be open to it. I can only hope that they see the work for what it is, and not what it’s not. I can’t control the viewer. As we like to say at Artblog, we can only make the best work we can.
“You have to be honest with yourself. If you honestly are behind this work (and it seems to me you are so far), then keep going.”
And I shall!
October 21, 2009 at 9:44 pm
“I ask if it matters because ultimately I think you and I are only concerned with quality. It might be more challenging to recognize the quality of a piece if it is found on the ground in a field, but if it has quality it is still there.”
I think it does matter because I’d just as soon turn this statement around: If an object has artistic quality, then anyone would clearly recognize it as art, regardless of context. If the object is of high enough quality, it can’t be mistaken for anything else.
(Of course, plenty of bad art can’t be mistaken for anything else, either, but that’s sort of a separate direction of argument.)
“…but do you grant that we’re discussing more than ‘wood all by itself’?”
I’m willing to grant that at the moment. The importance of this, though, is in asking that question. Is this more than wood all by itself? Does whatever value this piece have emerge entirely from the wood itself, or did you actually add value to it?
That’s really the heart of the matter. Clearly you did some stuff to it — chose it, mounted it, coated it, and so on — but is what you did of much (or any) value to the finished piece? That’s the whole question we’re batting around here.
Again, I can’t tell from here for sure.
“Do you talk about this as much to other artists when considering their work? ‘Hey, you love graphite!’ ‘Hey, you love acrylic paint!’”
I know you were only joking a bit here but: I gues I don’t ask artists about it directly all that often (maybe not at all, actually) but I have discussed with more than one artist their love for their materials. I’ve mentioned on my blog more than once, I think, how much of being an artist involves a very tactile love for materials. I personally am infatuated with graphite on really good paper. And most oil painters talk about paint like it’s food, how buttery it is and so on.
Acrylics suck.
“I’m not sure that’s my job, actually, ‘to get viewers to see these pieces of wood as art.’ I can only make the work and hope that viewers will be open to it.”
I don’t mean to say it’s your job as in it’s something you should directly aim for. I’m not sure it works that way. But it is part of the job description, for that to be the result.
October 21, 2009 at 10:15 pm
“(Of course, plenty of bad art can’t be mistaken for anything else, either, but that’s sort of a separate direction of argument.)”
It is a separate direction of argument, but I think it goes to show that the discussion isn’t as clear cut as you might think. We know that your statement, “If an object has artistic quality, then anyone would clearly recognize it as art, regardless of context,” is obviously false. “Anyone”? How often do we go into museums and galleries and see people scoff at the greatest art in the world. I provided an example of an angry guy completely missing Anne Truitt. Do you mean to suggest that since he failed to recognize artistic quality (being part of “anyone”) that her work is, a) not good, and b) not art?
I also wonder about people who recognize artistic quality in things that aren’t art. We’ve seen it happen plenty of times.
I think the question is, does anyone (not everyone) recognize the artistic quality in the work? If so, then we’ve established that it’s art (if that needed establishing) and it has quality to some extent. Some people have responded very favorable to this work and therefore I think it’s successful at some level.
“That’s the whole question we’re batting around here.”
No, that’s the question you’re batting around here. I already know the answer.
“But it is part of the job description, for that to be the result.”
I’m not sure I agree with this, but I’m willing to be open to the possibility of it. I don’t think I can make anyone recognize the artistic quality of my work. Some people will and some won’t. I can only be appreciative of those who do.
October 22, 2009 at 8:16 am
Chris,
I just realized that in my last comment I referenced an experience I had recently at Anne Truitt’s Hirshhorn show, but I referenced elsewhere, not here. I want to write a little bit about the show, but I’ll share the experience so that my comment above makes sense.
While viewing some of Truitt’s smaller sculptures, a man and four young kids came walking by. The kids were laughing and pointing at the work. The guy looked very angry. After the kids passed, he snarled to me, “So what’s so great about this crap?” I just stood there stunned. He was offended by the work. He clearly thought is was not art. Needless to say, he didn’t think it was good art.
So, in the most likely context to recognize an object as art (i.e. a museum), he failed to recognize Truitt’s work. The experience actually made me a little sad since he was unable to experience what I was experiencing.
October 22, 2009 at 9:06 am
I have to say, I had the same thought as Chris when I saw the work, “Hm.” Not “Hm, this is bad” and not “Hm, this is good” but “Hm, I have to think about this.” I’ve struggled with the issue of how to make wood art that is about wood for many years and have found it to be a very difficult problem to solve. How do you use wood as art and have the viewer see it as art rather than just a theoretical/academic exercise that doesn’t really touch anyone? I know it isn’t easy. I see this as a start. Follow your inspiration and you never know where it will lead.
Part of the problem is it is really hard to look at these images and not compare the work unfavorably (and unfairly) with the Hank Gilpin show I just saw at Gallery Naga in Boston. He had one piece, not on their website, that is a beautiful 36″ x 36″ x 0.25″ sheet of walnut naturally warped that was amazing. It was a cut-off that some shop was going to throw away and he took it, cleaned it up, and mounted it with all the skill that he had developed over that last 40 years. He made it art although, visually, it wasn’t any more than a sheet of wood. The application was minimalistic but the work and craft that went into it were still significant (I’ll send you images).
You have to find your own way to make wood into art. I think this is a start. I think you’ll need to continue thinking about it a while. Good luck with the struggle.
October 22, 2009 at 9:49 am
Rob,
Thanks for the comments. As you note, your response is pretty similar to Chris’. I’ll respond to some of your comments.
“How do you use wood as art and have the viewer see it as art rather than just a theoretical/academic exercise that doesn’t really touch anyone?”
Broadly speaking, I guess this is a question to be answered. And if no one was touched by the work, it would definitely require further examination. But as long as someone is touched, then the question isn’t about it being “art” but about why some people are touched and some aren’t. What I’ve found interesting thus far is that a lot of people’s first response is “This is beautiful.” Then comes the “but…”. I’m not sure I understand why there needs to be a “but.” It seems that people are uncomfortable granting such simple work the status of “art.” I’m not sure why some viewers are unable to let the work be the work and let it do what it does.
I just saw the images of the Gilpin piece you sent over. You’re right, it does look beautiful. Kudos to him for making such a great piece. You mentioned that, “The application was minimalistic but the work and craft that went into it were still significant.” What was the work and craft that went into it? Based on your description, it sounds like actually less work and craft went into it than into my work. Not that the amount of work or craft that goes into a piece necessarily equates with the work having quality, I’m just curious what work went into the piece that I’m not seeing.
“You have to find your own way to make wood into art.”
Yeah, I’m not new to the wood game. Granted, I haven’t been around 40 years like Gilpin, but I have had a fair bit of success in working with wood… I wanted to say, “with wood as art,” but that seemed completely silly to me. We don’t say, “oil paint as art” or “graphite as art.” So I’m not sure what “make wood into art” really means. All artists are charged with making the best art they can with whatever materials they choose to use. I think the fact that wood apparently comes with so many challenges of viability as art, it makes for a fascinating exploration.
The question of making something into art was answered long ago. During my recent trip to Chelsea I saw a show of Carl Andre’s work. The show consisted of concrete blocks arranged in a geometric pattern on the floor. The question is no longer “is it art?” but instead the question is “can you see it and does it speak to you?” If it doesn’t, no worries. Perhaps the work is unsuccessful or perhaps you’re not attuned to it. If it does speak to you, embrace it and enjoy it. It happens so rarely, doesn’t it?
I really do appreciate the feedback and you taking the time to look.
October 22, 2009 at 10:20 am
“We know that your statement, ‘If an object has artistic quality, then anyone would clearly recognize it as art, regardless of context,’ is obviously false. ‘Anyone’?”
I wouldn’t call it false. I’d say it’s a matter of degree. I think we could say — and we can argue this point, I imagine — but I think we could say that the more quality an art object has, the more people would agree it’s art.
Also, I think we have to split out definitions of art. Your Truitt Scoffer, for example, clearly understood these objects were intended as art, he just didn’t accept them as art. In other words, he knew they were art, he just didn’t think they were any good. Most likely if he’d found a small pile of Truitt sculptures in the woods he’d know they were art objects; he’d just think they were lousy ones. Then again, presented without the price tag, he might’ve liked them more. Some scoffing comes from the context of the art object: “This is neat and all, but why is it in a big climate-controlled room surrounded by guards and alarms? You paid how much for that?”
Compare this to the same guy finding, say, Tracey Emin’s bed in the woods. He’d just assume someone had been living there, or had thrown out the contents of their bedroom en masse. There’d be no reason for him to assume it was a real work of art.
Another real world example: The Rufino Tamayo picked up from the trash in New York a couple of years ago. Here the painting had been thrown away — it was clearly presented as garbage — and yet it was recognized as a great work of art by a passerby. Elizabeth Gibson took it home and eventually discovered it had been stolen from its rightful owners years earlier. She returned it because she’s a lovely person.
Of course, quality is not the only trait that determines whether an object is art or not. It’s the only one that matters to you and me, maybe. But obviously there are plenty of other traits that signify “art” in the minds of most people: It’s paint on canvas, it’s big and rectangular, it serves no other obvious purpose, and so on. Those things might cause an object with very low quality to be classed as art. Thomas Kinkade comes to mind.
“I don’t think I can make anyone recognize the artistic quality of my work.”
Not as such, no. But you can compel them with the force of your genius. Which is only an amusing idea when it’s you or me. Obviously true geniuses do manage this. When I listen to Beethoven I just find the music wonderful; but when I listen to Charles Mingus, I feel compelled by his genius. Something about Mingus just yells “GENIUS!” at me. Not that I like Mingus better than Beethoven — I don’t — it’s just how his music sounds to me.
What I’m saying is, you can lead a horse to water but you can’t make him like your wood.
“We don’t say, ‘oil paint as art’ or ‘graphite as art.’ So I’m not sure what “make wood into art” really means.”
Now you’re just being dense like oak tree. Of course no one says “oil paint as art” because what the hell else do we make out of oil paint? Paint and graphite make marks, it’s what they do. People use them to draw and decorate stuff.
Wood, on the other hand, has a zillion uses. People decorate their homes with chunks of wood (some petrified). They make furniture and paneling out of it. And dashboards and cutting boards. So of course we have to specify “making art out of wood” because you can make so many things out of wood.
No one carves graphite, or makes a shifter knob out of oil paint.
“The question of making something into art was answered long ago.”
Not really. It was answered for a very small, cliquish, academic group of viewers. For most people it’s still a question, as evidenced by your Truitt Scoffer.
There are people for whom your question is settled. You can find them all over the art world. These people feel that anything at all can be art, including my favorite example, the guy who claimed all the shoe shops in Amsterdam were his art work. Or Yves Klein’s Zones of Immaterial Pictorial Sensibility, another good one: Empty space he sold as art.
At best these people can be said to be engaging in philosophy. (And in most cases even that’s a stretch.) They’re not making art. That’s why I made my question explicit: If this art work were found in a non-art context, would it be recognized as art? To me, that’s the dividing line. Other people have been moving the dividing line for themselves and others, using a lot of complex and opaque verbiage to cover up what they were doing; the end result of all of that is defining everything as art, which I think leads to nothing being art, in which case what the hell have we all been doing?
I personally find no value in “blurring distinctions between”. To me the value is in the distinctions.
October 22, 2009 at 10:30 am
Chris,
We’re gonna have to agree to disagree. I think this is all wonderful banter in terms of philosophy, but in terms of experiencing art, it serves no point. The only thing that really matters is if you like it or not. That’s the end of the story.
Oh, and the Truitt Scoffer definitely would not think her work was art if found in the woods. If anything, he would have thought they were really boring toy blocks. If he could have stopped feeling threatened by the work, he might have actually enjoyed it. His loss. After re-reading Truitt’s “Daybook,” I can assure you she lost no sleep over his kind of reaction.
October 22, 2009 at 10:40 am
Obviously it’s all about the actual work. As Darby says, “Writing about art is only useful when it leads into the experience of art.”
Still, I wonder about your attributing the Truitt Scoffer’s attitude to his “feeling threatened by the work”. Isn’t it possible he just didn’t like it? That he thought it was worthless?
It seems to me we’re in a bad place when we blame someone for not enjoying a particular work of art. It could just as easily be the artist’s fault, really. Or we could more plainly say that taste is what taste is. You like something or you don’t, and that’s that.
Otherwise we risk dismissing people from consideration. Perhaps all my views on art are invalidated because I think Takashi Murakami is terrible puerile kitsch. Am I threatened by his work? Is that right?
October 22, 2009 at 10:48 am
Chris,
Now now… you know I agree that the work just might be terrible or that he might just not like it. I’ve said that all along. But you should have seen this guy’s face. You should have heard him talk. It was as if someone had made a fat mama joke to him. He was threatened. He thought that the work was so simple, that anyone could do that, so therefore it had no value. He didn’t look at it. He didn’t consider it. He saw colorful blocks and thought it was crap.
I might be wrong, but I think Anne Truitt is a phenomenal artist. Every single piece might not be great, but this show is superb. For him to dismiss the work outright tells me he can’t see. For him to make such a public outburst suggests to me he felt threatened. “Why is that work presented in this huge museum, as if it’s so important, and my life is so insignificant.” That’s what I imagined running through his head on a subconscious level. I could be wrong, but I doubt it.
“You like something or you don’t, and that’s that.”
Isn’t that what I’ve been saying all along?!
October 22, 2009 at 11:01 am
I can understand, actually, why he might have felt threatened. I often find myself in despair over things I see in Chelsea. I sometimes wonder if there really is something wrong with me.
Well, that’s not quite right. I know there are a number of things wrong with me. What I wonder is if there’s some specifically wrong with me keeping me from seeing the artistic value of, say, Marlene Dumas.
As far as you like something or you don’t, that’s fine for taste. That’s really the only thing we can say about it. But creating art is more involved than looking at art, and that’s really what we’ve been discussing, the creation side of art. If you and I happened upon a gallery showing blocks of wood of varying levels of glossiness and discussed it, we’d eventually boil down to “I liked it” or “I didn’t like it”. And that would be fine.
But we’re not talking about that, are we? We’re talking about the genesis of that work. The process involved in deciding, have I done enough? Do I stop here? Have I given this my best?
I think it’s a major point in the studio process, maybe the major point: When do I stop? Am I done with this? A lot of uncertainty crowds around that decision.
Jasper Johns, whatever his faults as an artist — and I think he has a lot — nailed it when he wrote, “Take an object. Do something to it. Do something else to it.” Maybe I’m reading too much into that, but I take it as summing up the essential question in art: What is that something else? How do I know if it’s enough?
My wife picks on me all the time. She thinks I should sand down and paint over the worst of my paintings. Mostly she thinks this because I keep running out of panels to paint on. She feels it’s a waste of materials to keep a bad painting.
But I have trouble doing that because I’m always unsure of how finished anything is and if there’s something I can learn from the mistakes. I don’t go back and change old paintings, but I do look at them and wonder.
October 22, 2009 at 11:17 am
Chris,
I think you got the Johns quote from me… I’ve been using it a long time!
“We’re talking about the genesis of that work. The process involved in deciding, have I done enough? Do I stop here? Have I given this my best?
I think it’s a major point in the studio process, maybe the major point: When do I stop? Am I done with this? A lot of uncertainty crowds around that decision.”
We are talking about the genesis of the work. Well, I am anyway. I’ve thought about and will continue to ask myself questions about it. But I am putting it out there for you to view. In other words, these works were deemed complete and ready for public consumption. Once I complete a work, it’s there for you to decide if you like it. My impression is that you do like it, but you’re unsure about giving it the label of art. When I hear that, I gladly take the first part and ignore the second. If you don’t like it, then I am curious why. Do you think the work is too small? Do you not like this wood against the other? Do you think the composition is out of proportion? This is helpful feedback.
There was a small show of Anne Truitt paintings in the 70′s at the Baltimore Museum of Art. There was such an uproar about them that tons of people got to together and tried to get the government to stop funding the museum, or take down the show. The mayor called the museum director and assured him the money was safe and for him to keep doing his job. 30 years later and Truitt is a pretty major figure in art. People still scoff at her work, but I think it’s probably less than in the 70s. Perhaps it just takes time.
October 22, 2009 at 12:07 pm
I know you deem these works complete. That doesn’t mean you chose the right place to stop, does it? My impression, from your writing in the original post, was that you are uncertain about these. Naturally. You’re doing something different and you doubt your intuition. Which is great. I’d be more worried if you were a hundred percent confident. That’s why I responded. If you just threw these up like, hey, new work and doesn’t it rock the house? I might not have written a thing.
“My impression is that you do like it, but you’re unsure about giving it the label of art.”
Not quite. I really don’t feel I can make a determination on these. Work always needs to be seen in person and these particularly need it. A painting you can sometimes get an idea from a JPEG but your work generally needs to be seen and these, since you’re playing with surface sheen, really need it.
If I saw it and really liked it, I wouldn’t hesitate calling it art. The question in my mind — which can’t be answered except by a visit to your place — is whether I’d really like it. I’m willing to have faith that I would, because I’ve liked your work before. (Remember I got to hold one in my own two hands when we were mounting the Blogger Show — a happy memory for me.) So if you think they work, I’m willing to agree for now, until I experience them and can make up my own mind.
Are you getting a hotel room up here any time soon?
As far as taking time, I’m unsure about that. Sometimes it takes time for the public to catch up, but it can also be that it takes time for the art world to catch up. Sometimes the art world is just plain wrong (most of Chelsea) and sometimes the public is just plain wrong (Thomas Kinkade, who I wouldn’t believe had fans if I hadn’t met some here and there).
I tend to feel — with no evidence whatsoever — that really good work can be immediately appreciated. But maybe not. The idea of acquiring a taste for something can be easily mocked — Jackie Mason did a great routine on it — but sometimes people do need to do that.
Taste does change and develop over time, that’s for sure. Does it really improve? I wonder.
October 22, 2009 at 12:28 pm
Chris,
My bad… I thought you said somewhere above that you thought they were beautiful, but you may have been talking about wood in general. I apologize for putting words in your mouth.
I think I’m uncertain about the direction in general. Where it will lead. What these pieces will do. I am certain that the pieces above are finished. But that’s not to say the next batch will look the same. We’ll see. I’ve ordered a bunch of wood from Michigan that will be here next week. I think the next batch will be along these same lines.
“that really good work can be immediately appreciated.”
My response to this would be, immediately appreciated by who? By how many people? Is it a certain % of viewers? Like I said earlier, these pieces have gotten some great feedback and some unsure feedback. So far no one has completely bashed it. I’m thankful for that!
So we don’t know if this work is really great. It may be, or it might not be. But, I know for some people, it is. And I think that’s what’s important. We hope a lot of people will think it’s great, but that just might not be possible. Instead, we hope that of the people attuned to this type of visual/conceptual experience, that a lot of them like it.
I wonder if great art recognized by lots of people is done so because it’s great art, or because it’s accessible. In other words, how do we know Kincade makes bad art? If we go by numbers, he has to be one of the greatest artists in the world.
The other day a critic visited my studio and saw some of these new works. He asked if I wanted feedback. I said sure. He started off by saying he doesn’t like minimalism. He then proceeded to give feedback, the overall impression being that he didn’t love the work. Well, maybe minimalism is bad. Or maybe he isn’t attuned to that type of work. But his lack of feeling for the work did not bother me. Instead, if someone I know to be attuned to reductive work told me they didn’t really like the work, well, that would mean much more to me.
To use Franklin’s food analogies, I don’t like sushi. Hate it. But that doesn’t mean sushi is bad. Nor does it mean I have any foundation on which to critique sushi. My thoughts on sushi are worthless. However, I love hamburgers. I know hamburgers. I know that all hamburgers aren’t good. But, when I say a particular hamburger is good, well, I hope the chef takes it as a compliment.
No hotel rooms in NYC in the near term. Although, I may be working with a space in Manhattan to show some work. We’ll see if that develops. If any of these works make it up there, I’ll let you know!
October 22, 2009 at 1:16 pm
“I thought you said somewhere above that you thought they were beautiful….”
I’m sure the wood, as itself, is beautiful. Because I like wood.
Did I mention that?
“I think the next batch will be along these same lines.”
I always look forward to what you’re going to do next. I know you almost disown it, but I have that painting you did hanging across from me right now. It’s in my dining room over the piano. I get compliments on it. Occasionally I have to point out that it’s not one of mine.
“I wonder if great art recognized by lots of people is done so because it’s great art, or because it’s accessible. In other words, how do we know Kincade makes bad art? If we go by numbers, he has to be one of the greatest artists in the world.”
I don’t think the art has to be accessible to be considered great. Maybe it helps win over more people faster. I’m not sure. My wife fell in love with Jackson Pollock on sight, with no foundation for appreciating “difficult” art, with no knowledge of Life magazine or Greenberg or formalism or anything. She just loved it immediately because it was great.
Meanwhile, we can go back to Greenberg and talk about drawing a firm distinction between art and kitsch. We know Kinkade isn’t a great artist because he’s selling kitsch, not art. For more detail on that, go read Clem, he’s a better writer than I am.
“…I don’t like sushi. Hate it.”
Ah, this explains everything. You’re a philistine!
“If any of these works make it up there, I’ll let you know!”
And if I’m ever down around the D.C. area I’ll let you know. It’s not impossible; D.C. is one of the few places I travel to on occasion.
October 22, 2009 at 4:49 pm
Chris,
“I don’t think the art has to be accessible to be considered great.”
Yeah, I don’t think so either. But I do wonder if there is some correlation between the two. I’m trying to think of a super inaccessible work of art that’s great. Even Pollock at this point is pretty accessible. I see people on HGTV making their own Pollock’s all the time. And yes, I do watch HGTV. What of it?!
I’m having a hard time keeping up with you. At one moment it seems we’re talking about “anyone” and the next minute talking about people who have read Clement Greenberg. Do you think the millions of people buying Kinkade’s work think/know that they are buying kitsch? We know that, sure, but they think they are buying pretty great art.
“You’re a philistine!”
Thanks for blowing my cover, jerk! I was trying to keep that a secret. I am ruined!
October 22, 2009 at 7:21 pm
Hate sushi and you watch HGTV? Good lord, this conversation is over.
How you make smiley face? Like this
?
Anyway, I think one of the features of kitsch is that people who like it don’t realize it’s kitsch. Like I said, go read Greenberg. He explains it better than I can.
That’s not for anyone, that’s just for us.
Anyway, the fact that great art appeals to a lot of people doesn’t mean that which appeals to a lot of people must be great art. That’s a logical fallacy, that is.
October 22, 2009 at 8:20 pm
Chris,
I really think you are intentionally trying to make my head explode.
“Anyway, the fact that great art appeals to a lot of people doesn’t mean that which appeals to a lot of people must be great art. That’s a logical fallacy, that is.”
I’ve said repeatedly that this is not what I’m saying. I know you like to argue, but sheesh!!
October 22, 2009 at 8:33 pm
I was just refuting your suggestion that maybe Kinkade really is a great artist since he sells so much. I know you don’t really believe that anyway.
October 22, 2009 at 8:34 pm
Also, I think it’s adorable that you blog replaces smilies.
October 22, 2009 at 8:37 pm
Yeah, I’m just saying that a great piece of art might be recognized by no one, a couple of people, or millions. You said earlier that anyone would recognize a great piece of art, even if it’s on the ground in the woods. I think that’s silly.
Wordpress makes one sophisticated blog!!
October 22, 2009 at 8:42 pm
Well, maybe not absolutely anyone. But I’d think a lot of people would. Some people are just dense.
October 22, 2009 at 8:43 pm
Again, we’ll just agree to disagree…
October 22, 2009 at 8:47 pm
Well, I don’t even entirely agree with myself. You may have noticed that. I’m not sure about it. It’s possible that certain kinds of greatness (or something) can’t be recognized by more than a small number of people. I don’t know.
October 22, 2009 at 8:54 pm
“I don’t know.”
It took a while to get there, but I’m glad we eventually did.
I wonder if WordPress puts a limit on the number of smiley faces in one comment thread.
October 23, 2009 at 10:24 am
I thought I was pretty clear about my being an idiot earlier. No? Let me state for the record, then, that I am an idiot.
As far as smilies go, certainly, if there were a limit, WordPress would’ve exploded long ago.
October 23, 2009 at 10:40 am
“Which is more musical: a truck passing by a factory or a truck passing by a music school?” – John Cage
JT -
I always get a lot of joy when I stop by your blog and one of the “comments” at the end of the article is up in the 20+ range after a couple days.
I get where you’re going with these. I saw Andre referenced above. It’s my feeling that Andre, Kirkland, etc. provide a necessary part of the continuum of visual arts as response to life (just as painting, realistic images, abstract images, pop images, also do).
Of course if one sees some bricks at a construction site, one may not see it as art. But one goes to a gallery or museum to see more intentionally. When a viewer comes across a large warehouse sized room dedicated to a single row of bricks, they are given the choice to examine: they might feel compelled to take some time to consider the beauty in these simple building blocks of modern life (sitting within a giant room made of such blocks), or they may only choose to scoff and knee-jerk, as that angry dad in the Hirschhorn (“who paid for this crap?”). It’s their choice, but it is the arrangement and proclamation of the brick as an art object that allows for that choice to happen.
I remember first coming across that particular Andre installation in my early high school years, at the National Museum in Ottowa. It was before I had any training or formal exposure in the arts, yet it’s an image that sticks with me above nearly all others I saw that day, or even on that entire family vacation. Certainly those bricks had some impact.
My comment, beyond that it’s hard to tell exactly with these works on jpeg, is that the more complex pieces toward the bottom of the post tend to blur the argument. I like the idea of counterpoint between two exposed pieces of wood. I often set two unaltered found recordings against each other in my own work out of the same interest. When 5-6 thin slits are involved in a tight frame, I start to get the sense that very simple material is being pushed too hard — the counterpoint is a bit lost to me, or maybe just too obvious.
Anyway, that’s my take.
- Matt
PS – There’s a large rock sculpture (Stone Field Sculpture) by Andre in my town (Hartford) that has created an array of public response since the 1970s. I was walking by the site one day, and a corporate power lunch type of guy (it’s next to the Hartford insurance co.) felt the need to tell me that “his six year-old could do that”. I would love to meet that six year-old: could lifting two-ton boulders by hand, or operating a bulldozer in the backyard.
October 23, 2009 at 11:07 am
Thanks for the comment, Matt. I think you’re right. There are so many directions art can go in. My work will never be “great” in the way that van Gogh’s “Starry Night” is. It’s a wonderful painting and it’s accessible. It’s colorful, recognizable and has a WOW factor. But what’s funny is that when he was alive, the work was not recognized as great by most people.
My work is going to function more in line with Andre than Monet. It’s not going to be great to the masses. But, that’s not my goal. I can’t fit my vision into a more widely accepted view of greatness. Instead, I have to operate to my best abilities within my own path. I’m not on the 8-lane super highway. I’m on a side road. While that road isn’t as smooth or as fast as the super highway, it still takes you somewhere. It serves a purpose and has value. I’m comfortable with my path and I hope those who are either on my side road or appreciate my side road, find value in what I do. Who knows… perhaps sometime in the future there will be an on-ramp to the super highway and I can take it.
Wow, I really dragged out the highway metaphor. I hope it made sense!
October 23, 2009 at 5:11 pm
What I mean by “wood as art” is that I think you are trying to make wood the subject of the art, not a medium with which to make art. Some people love paint so much they also try making art that is about the paint, but really what they are doing is making art about color and texture. One could also love stone so much that you want to use stone as the subject, not just a medium. It poses the same problems that wood as art does. How do you make a work about a medium while also doing something to it to make it art. I know I can stick any board of wood on the wall and call it art. And it is art, but then what? I need to do something different next time or I’d get board and the viewing public would get board.
I know you aren’t new to doing this but this is a different series and direction than you other work, and as such, I think it is just a start. I don’t know what I would think of this work in person, the different finishes could have some interesting effects, but aesthetically, I’m a little bothered by the different strips of wood of the same color. I find it distracting to have a single color but have the grain going in different directions. The small section of cherry sapwood is especially distracting. I also think it would be more interesting large. Sometimes work that isn’t interesting at all on the small scale has real impact when it is blown up.
Just some thoughts.
October 23, 2009 at 5:31 pm
Rob,
I hear you. I just think that people don’t have an issue with “paint as art” because of the issues Chris raised above… that wood has so many uses other than art that it presents more of a challenge. I think that’s what makes the wood promising as a medium. When I give artist talks I often pick someone out of the crowd and ask them to please describe the look of their dining table. The most common answer? It’s brown. Maybe I’ll get a “dark brown” or “light brown.” Because wood is so common, we tend to overlook it. My work forces attention on the material and I think going forward those who have viewed my art will see wood elsewhere with greater focus and appreciation. That’s a good thing to me and one part of the success of the work.
I think we get at the heart of our differences here:
“I find it distracting to have a single color but have the grain going in different directions. The small section of cherry sapwood is especially distracting. I also think it would be more interesting large.”
I completely disagree with all three points. The grain going in different directions is what makes the work interesting. In doing so, I am building the composition in a very purposeful way. Especially in #1 at top. I think the opposing grain pattern in the bottom half is what activates the piece.
As for the cherry sapwood, it’s also what makes the piece. It jumps out because it’s so similar in tone to the basswood on top. I would have never used that piece of cherry without the sapwood. I love the wood that most craftsman/manufacturers would not use because of the “imperfections.” I hate the flat, consistent grain used in cabinets, furniture and elsewhere. But, I understand it. You have to appeal to as many people as possible with mass produced objects. But it’s so, so boring.
Lastly, while the work will likely gradually get bigger, I don’t think it will necessarily make it better or more interesting. I always think of the saying, “If you can’t make it well, make it big.” I’m very interested in working on a smaller scale and finding power in small packages. I think some of these pieces accomplish it better than others, but they would definitely need to be seen in person.
It’s not a bad thing at all, but it sounds like you have your own biases that might be preventing you from seeing these pieces. And this is what I mean by having different audiences, different people attuned to what I’m doing. If the opposing grain and presence of sapwood bother you, then I don’t think you’re going to be able to see what I’m trying to do. Those are a couple of the many decisions that go into the work and they are there for very specific reasons.
In coming work, these juxtapositions are going to get more pronounced, specifically the use of one wood type but different grains and coloration. I’ll be eager to see if they bother you even more, or if they open you up to the possibilities of working this way.
I appreciate the dialog!
October 23, 2009 at 6:04 pm
“I’d get board”
It occurs to me, J.T., that using the wood grain as your medium, using pieces of wood and their natural colors and variations, is actually not that far out. When artists use oil paints, they use them based on the natural inclination of the medium, its colors and consistencies, and they place them side by side in what appears to them to be a pleasing arrangement. (“Pleasing” here not intended to imply merely pretty or retinal — some artists aren’t interested in pretty paintings per se, but are nevertheless in some sense pleased with their arrangement.)
You’re doing the same thing. You could be placing found objects (which style I usually hate but which can be quite good) or paint or pencil marks, but instead you’re using wood.
I know you’ve been saying something along those lines for years but it just sort of came together for me.
Although I’d personally downplay the “see wood elsewhere with greater focus” part. That might be a happy side effect, maybe, but it’s hardly a worthwhile goal. Same with presenting bricks in a gallery setting so people see bricks in a new way. That’s pretty stupid, if you ask me. That implies that most people walk around in a total haze paying no attention to their surroundings, and it takes some superior being to bring them to full consciousness. Audiences are smarter than that, and it’s condescending to think otherwise. The typical thought process behind a piece like bricks in a gallery, I imagine, goes something like, “I, being a superior artist/gallerist/connoisseur, can see that this piece calls attention to an often overlooked object of everyday life. But the Great Unwashed need that kind of direction from us.”
You may hear from some people that their dining room table is brown, but there are people who could regale you with stories about their dining room tables. Personally I’m not sure what my dining room table is made from — I’m pretty sure it’s wood — and I’m sitting at it right now — but ask me about the wood trim around the windows in my house and I’ll give you a 20-minute dissertation. (I think you may have heard it, actually.)
Other people pay attention to things like thread counts on their sheets. Ask my neighbor across the way about his lawn but only if you’ve got half an hour to kill.
Anyway, I don’t think it’s your main point — “Look at all the wood that surrounds you!” — but I wanted to rant a bit. You worry me sometimes, J.T., because you’re so damned reasonable and smart but I can sense a little artspeak creeping in every now and then. Turn away from the Dark Side! :yoda:
Damn, there’s no Yoda emoticon.
October 23, 2009 at 6:18 pm
Chris,
YES! I’m glad you see that the wood is just paint, just graphite, just paper, etc. I think it’s potentially the most beautiful medium in and of itself (maybe marble beats it), but I’m just arranging things. Think of it as collage. My work has always been about leveraging that which is already beautiful (wood, scrapbook paper, photographs, etc). I’m glad this clicked for you.
“That might be a happy side effect, maybe, but it’s hardly a worthwhile goal.”
It’s not my primary goal, sure, but I do think it is worthwhile. Not super, extremely, unbelievably worthwhile, but I’m happy when I accomplish it.
“Audiences are smarter than that, and it’s condescending to think otherwise.”
Not in my experience, they aren’t. Sure, some people (like you and Rob), know a bit about wood, but I do think most people are that oblivious. I think I feel this way because of the number of “AHA!” moments I’ve had when talking about my work.
Chris… one of the challenges of having a discussion with you is that you bounce between the “unwashed masses” and “people who could regale you with stories about their dining room tables.” Sure, a very small number of people are totally observant about their tables. Some people know all about the wood trim in their house. But we need to decide if we’re talking about “everyone” or a super small subset of people. That would really help us keep focused. Most people I’ve talked to are completely clueless about wood (and I don’t mean what species it is, I mean what it really looks like). But on the rare occasion I have met those whose awareness of wood blows mine away.
Hey! If I’m going to get anywhere in this world o’ art I’m going to need some art speak. I don’t think I’ve gotten too carried away. Yet.
October 23, 2009 at 6:28 pm
I guess what I’m trying to say is that there is no Great Unwashed. People are smarter and more observant than they get credit for. The art world tends to behave as if people are stupid. That’s because most artists are pretty dumb. So they think, wow, wouldn’t it be great if I titled an empty spot of air and sold it? That’s so deep, man!
But it’s not deep. It’s stupid.
I don’t think everyone knows about wood. But a lot of people know about something. Personally I can’t follow football to save my soul, but there are people who otherwise seem uneducated to me but can rattle off football statistics like a genius.
Making it the explicit aim of your work to, say, recontextualize your materials sets you up as superior in some way to your audience. Even if they’re not wood experts, that still comes off as condescending. Talking down to them. “See how much wood you have ignored? Well, I pay attention to wood!” It seems silly and unnecessary.
As I said, if someone’s eyes do get opened up, I suppose that’s a good thing. But starting out with the assumption that they’re ignorant is unfair to your audience.
As I said, I know it’s not your primary aim. Not like the guy with the bricks. I mean, you’re in love with your materials. That’s something special right there. I doubt the brick guy gave a crap about bricks.
October 23, 2009 at 6:38 pm
I want to be careful to note that you’re ever so slightly putting words in my mouth, or thoughts in my head. I don’t think people are stupid, nor am I trying to preach to them. I’m just trying to bring forward the beauty of wood as it naturally exists in the world. Maybe 0.0001% of people even know that some wood is naturally a rich, bright purple, or yellow, or red.
A quick anecdote… it seems that every week someone in DC gets run over by a car or bus. Many times they die from their injuries. Sometimes the pedestrian is in their own world listening to music or exercising. Sometimes the bus driver is just day dreaming or yapping on a cell phone. If people are getting killed because they are oblivious, or dare I say, they can’t be bothered to LOOK, I don’t think it’s a stretch to say they aren’t paying super close attention to the beauty of wood. It doesn’t make them bad people. It’s just the way it is.
October 23, 2009 at 9:14 pm
I won’t argue with you about a lot of people being really, really dumb. I just think it’s wrong to assume they are. It’s not nice. It’s also wrong to assume you’re smarter than they are, especially if you’re an artist, since artists are really dumb.
I don’t mean you, of course. You’re one of the good ones, man.
I would like to add that at no point do I mean to argue with you. Just making observations, throwing half-digested thoughts out there, as brought up by your writing about your art.
October 23, 2009 at 9:14 pm
Which is my way of saying, if any of what I write seems incoherent, it’s not you, it’s me.
October 25, 2009 at 9:26 am
Radical work is never easy on first viewing. I think these become more interesting over time. It would be good to see them in person. The idea of using different clear coat gloss/non-gloss finishes as paint is real interesting. I like the plywood piece on your website.
October 25, 2009 at 2:25 pm
“Radical work is never easy on first viewing.”
The trouble with thinking this way is crappy work isn’t easy on first viewing, either. If you make excuses for your work’s failure to reach an audience by saying, “radical work is never easy on first viewing,” you might not be looking completely honestly at your work.
That’s why I avoid such glib pronouncements. Could be avant garde work, could be junk. It’s not helpful.
October 27, 2009 at 12:52 pm
[...] New Work Jump to Comments In conjunction with the other new works I recently posted, I’ve been exploring a similar approach using small pieces of hardwood [...]
November 9, 2009 at 6:37 am
From Wikipedia “Art is the process or product of deliberately arranging elements in a way that appeals to the senses or emotions.” For sure a very broad definition which by deduction suggests that there are no rules. Essentially, in my humble opinion, there are two forms of Art:
(1) Dead art which is nothing more than an assembly line of techniques with the single goal of selling to whoever will purchase. In this case the buyer is usually searching for a room accent.
(2) Art from the heart which is generated from the soul of the artist without concern for a buyer. If a buyer is available they are likely searching for pieces that evoke emotions and could care less if it fits with the decor of her or his living room. (Can you imagine someone turning down a Monet because it does not fit with the color decor of her or his living room?)
Your assembly of wood elements is obviously from the heart. I have never seen this before and find the concept fascinating as well as refreshing. One time, years ago, I made a cutting board for my wife. The wood was a rough 2 x 4 used in the construction of pallets, in this case a sort of gumwood from the southeast. After planning, cutting and gluing the squares of wood, then applying vegetable oil, the design provided by the grain looked eerily similar to a Rorschach card. I would imagine that with some careful searching, some unique designs could be developed using the ends of wood.
Nevyn
December 28, 2009 at 11:51 am
[...] the studio and I am excited to share the images with you. These four pieces follow in line with previously posted works using 1/16″ veneer on birch plywood and playing with different sheens of polyacrylic clear [...]
May 22, 2010 at 1:28 pm
Hey may I quote some of the content from this post if I link back to you?
May 22, 2010 at 8:50 pm
Dedra – Of course you can use this content. Thanks for asking and thanks for reading!
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