Drawing Final!

Well, this is the culmination of my first semester of drawing. The drawing is 5x7' by far the largest thing I've worked on yet. I like parts of it, but overall, it could have been a much stronger piece. I look forward to redeeming myself in the future. Still, with the amount of time I put into it I felt it was worthy of submission to the Foundation Show here at Tyler. I'll keep my fingers crossed.

Three New Drawings Oh My

Here are three drawings from Rubens Drawing foundation classes. Now all that's left is my Drawing final. 

Three Figures (Self-Portrait)

Figure with Raised Arm and Caravaggio Hand (Self-Portrait)

This piece has been submitted to the foundation show

                                         

Persona Struggle

This piece has been submitted to the foundation show

Drawing/2D First Semester Work

These images are some of the work I have done for my Drawing and 2D classes the first semester here at Tyler. I'm missing a couple of Drawing assignments, including my Drawing Final, which I will put up when I get them via email from the various people who have the images. 

Pictures!

Pictures of my art from the first semester of Drawing, and a few from my 2D class are coming up soon! Sorry that this has taken so long Rubens, it was a task just getting used to checking my email regularly. Forget regularly documenting my art haha

Also, new development in my life. "Where the Buffalo Roam" has quickly become one of my favorite movies. Watch it if you haven't.

Final Drawing

Well, I was supposed to blog as I went along, recording myt process in the research and whatnot of out final drawing....but I didn't. That's my fault, but instead of lamenting about it, I will provide a recap of what my process was with this drawing.
I started my thinking over Thanksgiving break, where I explored the idea of the use of white space and flat planes of tone to create a sense of space and depth. This interest was influenced by Egon Schiele's use of white backgrounds, and Salvador Dali's landscapes, which often depict flat planes of color. I also looked at an SVA 2009 Illustration catalog, drawing inspiration from a couple compositions and styles. I wanted to incorporate a figure that was at once rendered and outlined. Not saying that I would fall back into my old ways of heavy outlines, but that select parts would be outlined, and left flat as Schiele does, while other parts would be highlighted for importance by rendering. I was having a tough time tackling a composition with objects that I liked, but I knew I wanted an asymmetrical composition. I researched asymmetrical compositions on the internet, but did not find anything more useful than the understanding I already had of it. Perhaps this is because asymmetrical composition has no real formula and must be "felt out" instead.

When I returned from the break, I immediately went to the Library and picked up multiple Egon Schiele books,scouring through them and trying to absorb how he created such beautiful compositions. At this time, I was still really struggling with placing objects in the composition and what objects I wanted. I wasn't feeling any sort of connection to material objects, not one deep enough to put in my final drawing.

That's when I discovered Schiele's dual portraits, especially his dual self-portraits. I was intrigued by portraying yourself twice in one image, something I inadvertently practiced in my last assignment for the class by drawing myself three times. The three figures didn't really have a narrative though, and I wanted there to be one between the two me's that would be drawn in my final. BY choosing to go this rout, I ended up with a much more symmetrical composition, but I tried to skew it so that some asymmetry was left between the two figures.

I guess in a way Egon Schiele ruined this drawing criteria wise, as I lack objects in the drawing. I was troubled by his lack of objects in his portraits (all but a few of the later ones), and also influenced by it. Egon placed such importance on the human form and its emotion that objects were cast aside as distractions. I stayed true to myself on this one, by sticking to what I love dearest, the human form. While the subject matter is similar to most of my work (partially because it's an assigned self-portrait), I tried my best to push the piece materially and stylistically.

I suppose this rebellion from the criteria stems from the monotony I have felt simply cranking out assignments for 2D and most of 3D like an automaton. I wanted to take charge of this drawing and really make it mine. I hope it isn't a total disaster.

What the Heck is Art: Quote Response

"The point is, that every piece of art changes your whole perception of the rest of the world for the rest of your life.
And it's not a joke! And if it doesn't, then it's not art, it's a commodity."
- Lawrence Weiner responding to a question from Liam Gillick in "Between Artists"
pg20


Without blinking an eye, or giving a second thought, I can say I disagree with this quote on a very basic level. I don’t believe in extremes when it comes to philosophy, and I don’t believe it is the truth to say never. Weiner does so in saying that art can never be art and a commodity. I disagree with the severity of his statement.

I also happen to disagree with the first part of the quote, which states that each piece of art must change your perception of life in order to gain the moniker of art. Once again, I must disagree with the severity of the point. I believe art is an experience, an experience for the creator and the viewer. And with all experiences in life, art’s impact varies from person to person for various reasons and factors whose list is too long to reasonably formulate. Some experiences shape a person, defining them for the rest of their lives; others are fleeting moments easily forgotten or tossed aside. Not every experience leaves a lasting mark, at least not an evident one. Because of this I cannot agree that art must change your perceptions to be art.

Can art be art and a commodity? Sure. Why not? Artists sell their work every day, as a necessity to live in a world that revolves around wealth. If an artist sells his work, does that make it a commodity? Can art be created separate from the need for monetary investment, only later to be turned into a cash-making device? If the answer is no, then the term working-artist seems a bit silly to me. Maybe I’m not delving into this deep enough.

What does it mean to be a working artist? To me, without any experience in being one, it means to be able to create art and simultaneously survive in a society that necessitates personal wealth. Sure, you could go off the grid, live life as a hermit, and be autonomous of the restraints of a capitalist society; creating art. But then I do not think one deserves the title of working artist, a title specifically tailored for that society the hermit shuns.

Since the Renaissance, artists have been shifting the artist’s identity from craftsmen to creator. Centuries ago, art was a pure commodity. The Church or other wealthy patrons commissioned artists to create works of art whose subject matter they often had little control over. The patrons knew what they wanted, and the artists knew they had to deliver. In this era, art was a pure commodity, as the artist did not create to create, but to get paid. This has changed over the centuries, and an artist no longer is a craftsmen hired to depict religious scenes. An artist is able to develop his own ideas, work on what has meaning to him, and establish his artistic vision for others to see. While this vision may not reach everyone, or affect everyone it touches, it is out there. Artists working to expand the mind and the world are something that was nonexistent centuries previous.

I believe an artist can create art that is both art, and something that makes money. While the art is less of a commodity than say, a bar of soap, but is nonetheless a commodity the artist relies on for moneymaking. Whether the art is created with profit in mind or a profit is made from a piece of art made for art’s sake is an important distinction. But I think both can still be called art. Who am I to say otherwise?

I don’t like the seriousness attributed with saying that art must change your perceptions of the world forever to earn the title of art. I don’t like the lack of humor. I don’t feel any laughter from the quote. You need laughter, in art, and well, everywhere.

And maybe Weiner is correct. The danger in his quote is that each human will perceive art in different ways. Some works may resonate heavily with one person (possibly even change some perceptions) while not even eliciting a blink of an eye from the next person. In that way, each person can develop what he considers art, or not art. What styles, eras and movements one person believes to be art another may dismiss as silly musings. Maybe Weiner is correct, that the only art in your life is the stuff that changes your world perceptions and opens your mind. My art may different than your art, but we definitely both have art. I could get behind that. But I like to think I can enjoy something for simpler reasons and still call it art.

"Persona" Response

Persona is a film directed and written by Ingmar Bergman. The film is a fascinating study of identity, role-playing and the shifting border between truths and lies. These are some jumbled thoughts.

Elisabeth Vogler is a well renowned actress and artist, whose sudden shock into silence mystifies the scientific and medical community. She is healthy, but her will to not make a sound is driven by deep emotional and mental struggles. Sister Alma is assigned to be her nurse, a job she is unsure she can fulfill properly. After a short while at the hospital, Alma and Elisabeth are transferred to a seaside estate to recover in seclusion and peace. This isolation works well for the movie, as you are able to focus solely on the developing relationships between Alma and Elisabeth. Alma soon finds talking to Elisabeth to be cathartic, and she opens up to her in trust. As she talks more and more, she delves deeper into the psyche of Elisabeth, getting an understanding of why she remains silent. Bergman uses physical similarities between Alma and Elisabeth to establish the foundation of their relationship. As Alma talks to the silent Elisabeth, she is transformed into the actress, and Elisabeth the audience.

Elisabeth tries to escape a life of lies and shame, of false personalities and facades, by shutting up. Without speech, she can’t play her roles anymore; she can’t put on a show worthy of the stage. Without her voice she hopes to hide from the world of lies she had created for herself. She wants to escape the guilt of her failed abortion, of her motherless child, and her life as a mask. She is tired of always being the actress. But by silencing herself, in a way she just creates another façade. It’s another act.

Through Persona, Bergman shows the power of silence. Elisabeth utters not one word until forced to by the possibility of violent action from Alma more than half way through the film. Yet, without saying her single thing, her personality and inner struggles overtake the malleable nature of Alma’s character. Sister Alma’s voice is heard, but it is drowned out by Elisabeth’s silence. This is not an immediate effect, but as the film’s plot progresses it is a dominant element of the film.

Beyond the plot, the film is also a study of cinematography as Ingmar Bergman tries to compose a beautiful image with every shot. Moreover, from what I was able to absorb, he accomplishes the goal. Te slow pace of the film allows the watcher to appreciate intricate camera angles, prop placement, and shot composition. Unlike the fast paced nature of movies today that vomit images to you like a visual machine gun, Bergman slows Persona down to a snail’s pace to allow the full reception of the cinematography. I found myself caring less about the plot and characters and being more absorbed with the exquisite compositions and transitions found throughout the film. At such a slow pace, it was easier to absorb the cinematic elements, and much more difficult to pay attention to the plot.

Bergman’s compositions were utterly fantastic, each shot creating a complete image. Each composition is full of decisions both clearly and subtly made, a clever play between the obvious and delicate. It is obvious Bergman thought about each shot as a painting, and the film as a series of paintings meant to be viewed in succession. His tonal ranges match the moods of the plot, and vice-versa.

I have to admit that Persona loses me on many occasions. The slow nature of the film, while an excellent device to showcase the cinematography, it is a bit hard to sit through and pay attention to a plot that becomes increasingly convoluted. Bergman begins to intertwine reality with dreamlike states and perceived illusions, whose unmarked entry and exit make it hard to follow the flow of the movie. In fact, it disrupts much of the flow as I struggled to understand what the heck was going on. This confusion led me away from the plot, and from the fascinating ideas presented in the film. On many occasion I found myself questioning what just happened only to find myself missing what is going on at that very second, putting me even further behind in the comprehension of the film.