Wednesday 11 January 2012

Why do I like that picture?

Botticelli: Madonna and Child
As a practicing painter whenever I go through a gallery I can't help but analyse my reaction to pictures. Particularly if I like a picture I stop and ask myself, why?, what is it about this work that appeals to me? It is not always an easy question to answer, in fact it is very rarely an easy question, and having produced a fair number of paintings which, frankly, haven't pleased me, it gains a certain urgency. If I can pin down exactly why pictures appeal it should be fairly easy to incorporate those elements into my own work, right?

Well, no, of course it isn't as easy as that, if it were then painting like Titian would only be a slightly more complicated exercise at the back of a painting by numbers book. Nevertheless, despite what your school art teacher told you, you can't produce a pleasing work of art by chance, it is therefore entirely necessary to study the great works of the past to try and gain an understanding of what they have in common which have earned them that reputation.

Now obviously whole books have been written on this subject and I shall be returning to it several times, I imagine, over the coming posts. For now I want to limit myself to one observation which struck me forcibly during a recent trip around the Louvre. Approaching the great Italian gallery in the preceeding room there are two pictures hanging side by side by Botticelli. (one of which is at the top of this post) Now both were of the same subject, a Madonna and Child, both were a similar size and fomat, and coming from roughly the same period of the artist's career the physical features of the personages in both were very similar. The interesting thing though was that despite these very obvious similarities one picture strongly appealed to me and the other didn't. So what is going on?

Well clearly the first point to make is that the subject of the picture isn't enough in itself to make one like a picture because the subject in these two pictures was exactly the same. Now I do feel that the subject of a picture is of some importance and I will discuss this more later, but my Botticelli experience demonstrates that one can't like a picture just because of the subject matter. This might seem obvious but its common to hear people say 'I like seascapes' or 'flowers' or whatever it may be. In fact it seems clear that people (and I'm talking primarily about non painters here) are seduced by the subject matter and have difficulty to see beyond it.

Beyond to what? is the obvious question and the answer must be to the formal qualities of a painting. A painting, as Maurice Denis once said is firstly, before it is a 'horse' or  a 'nude woman' or anything else, merely areas of colour placed on a flat surface. Therefore one can deduce that the painter's first task is to arrange his coloured areas in pleasing combinations, of value, hue, chroma, size, shape and all the other formal elements of a picture likewise to create a pleasing whole. If he doesn't do this he cannot create a pleasing picture, if he does he will create, at the least, a pleasing picture, and has given himself the chance of creating a thoroughly good one.

The word 'whole' in the previous paragraph is key because the artist's principal difficulty in composing a picture is to maintain a balance between two competing forces; variety and unity. Too much unity and the picture is dull and monotonous, too much variety and it doesn't hang together as a coherent whole; This is what artists mean by 'breadth' the sense that unity of surface has been maintained across the whole canvas, and it is why finishing a picture, adding and refining detail can so often be the time that it begins to evapourate. This in turn perhaps explains why many schools of art from the impressionists onwards have opted for loose handling and have not risked losing their breadth by working towards a tight finish.

In Botticelli's case, my analysis did reveal that the picture that I didn't especially like did have its large tonal masses,  on which a sense of calm grandeur are so dependant, broken up a little by detail  thereby creating a slighly spotty effect. It was subtle and took a lot of looking on my part to pin down exactly why one picture didn't 'sing' quite like the other but given that the subject and treatment were essentially identical we have nothing left to fall back on but the formal qualities and of these, in my opinion value, or tone as it is often called, is the most important. And having made that claim it seems only reasnable that I dedicate my next post to trying to back it up.


WELCOME!

Edward Burne-Jones : The Sleeping Beauty
Welcome to my blog. Just what the world needed I hear you cry, another blog!

 Well, let me start by explaining the purpose of this one. I am a practising painter, I paint in a traditional realist manner, that is to say I take the natural world as the  source of all my images and put them together in such a way as to create a whole which does not fragrantly defy any natural laws of appearance. That I think is a fairly decent defintion of realist painting and would apply to pretty much every painter you've ever heard of who worked  in the western world between about 1400 and 1900. Perhaps one could argue about whether Hieronymus Bosch fits in there, but even in his most fantastical paintings the imagery is drawn for the most part from the natural world and the parts are represented realistically albeit in bizarre combinations. Before 1400 I think it fair to say that since the time of Giotto artists had been striving towards a greater understanding of how to represent the natural world so one could I think justifiably claim that realists painters today are working in a tradition stretching back seven centuries or more
.
That the tradition broke down around 1900 I think is unarguable, how and why will be topics for later posts but the fact remains that we currently live in an age where representative art is considered by the art establishments of the world as by defintion of no real value, hence the 'cold climate' of my title. There is currently a swing back towards the proper training of artists especially in the United States, where the thread of realism was never quite cut completely, which has been led simply by the ever increasing demand amongst art students for an education which attempts at least to give them the skills necessary to make worthwhile paintings and sculptures. Rather bizarrely the philosophy of the last century has been to raise the status of art objects to near mystical levels and yet at the same time suppose that they can, indeed should, be made by people without any formal training in the technical basis of their chosen fields.

In brief then I would like with this blog to explore the theoretical and philosophical issues behind creating art, especially realist art (using that word in the broad sense that I indicated above). No doubt I shall refer from time to time to my own practice, I don't want this blog to be dry and academic and the theoretical issues can only be made relevant by putting them into the context of actually making art, but this blog wont be a 'here's what I did today' type of record, there are plenty of those and many by painters of great skill and understanding. I shall look at the realist art world today, perhaps throwing it into focus by comparisons with what we may call the 'official' art world and I shall talk too about the wider cultural and artisitc world, artists like everybody else can't live in a vacuum and we are influenced by the times we live in, as much as we try to influence them. Although I think it true that we are living in a time of deep cultural malaise, in many ways a uniquely bad time, yet I am by nature optimistic and can't quite give myself over to complete despair, if I did I would have to stop painting, and that I could never do! The very fact that I can write this blog too, and that I can make contact with other like minded people, some of whom also have their own excellent blogs is itself a hopeful development; cultural fragmentation can create possibilities for good as well as harm.

 Readers may well have noticed the reference in my title to the great work of art crticism (and so much more) in 5 volumes by that great Victorian John Ruskin. My love and admiration for Ruskin and so many of his contemporaries will no doubt become very apparent with the development of this blog but I will finish this introductory post with a little hopeful quote from possibly the greatest Victorian of them all, William Morris : ' Meanwhile, if these hours be dark, as indeed in many ways they are, at least do not let us sit deedless, like fools and fine gentlemen, thinking the common toil not good enough for us and beaten by the muddle, but rather let us work like good fellows trying by some dim candle-light to set our workshop ready against tomorrows' daylight - that tomorrow when the civilised world... shall have a new art, a glorious art... as a happiness to the maker and the user.'