ART AND RAGE

Kathe Kollwitz, The Peasants' Revolt

In these divisive political times, words can't seem to keep pace with our anger.  Insults on social media are so prevalent that words have lost their sting.  Hyperbole is so overused that it no longer impresses, so people have resorted to lies instead. (As Nietzsche observed, "no one lies as much as an indignant man.")   Many people have given up searching for words that persuade, and settled for words to offend.

But when words become ineffectual as a means of expression, we can always rely on good ol' drawing to raise the decibel level.

Unlike words, drawing is not a polite game ruled by grammar and punctuation.  Drawing is a more primal mode of communication with a broader range of expressive tools.  In this sketch from Kollwitz's shattering series about the peasants' revolt of 1524, her charcoal strokes on paper are the equivalent of those arms flailing in rage and despair.

 

Kathe Kollwitz, study for The Peasants' Revolt

Goya's series on the disasters of war vents his feelings of anger and impotence using graphic forms that are more compelling than words.

Goya, a gang rape by soldiers

Amsterdam artist L.J. Jordaan penned this blood curdling image of the Nazi occupation of the Netherlands:

Oceans of words about the Vietnam war were written by armies of talented writers, yet Tomi Ungerer's stark drawings remain vivid in people's minds.

The talented Tom Fluharty could've made a career out of his blistering portrayals of Hillary Clinton:

It is not sufficient that an artist feels anger.  Quite the contrary, anger usually causes art to go astray; it creates a stress test for the connective tissue of art, and artists who aren't up to the task find that anger has left them with an ineffectual mess.  But artists with the ability to hold it together can channel their outrage into truly scalding works of art.

Today's polarized environment has revved up talented, indignant artists, such as Michael Ramirez on the right or Ann Telnaes on the left.  But I can think of none more unsettling and brilliant than John Cuneo.  His pen seems the sharpest, his ink the most acidic, his imagination the most outrageous.

A response to Donald Trump's statement that his opponents should "go back to where you came from."

An artist friend told me about this drawing,  "Cuneo can always make me gasp before I laugh. The cartoon’s idea is just a crude taunt, but his willingness to really GO there and SELL it is, ...well, frankly, a bit scary. "

This next Cuneo drawing-- simultaneously brutal and brilliant-- is an excellent example of what I mean by artistic powers strong enough to contain rage:

It's extremely difficult to balance art and anger, but when properly fused, the two make a powerful alloy.

BERNIE FUCHS, TEN YEARS LATER

The artist Bernie Fuchs passed away ten years ago today.  I was fortunate to get to know him; I interviewed him for weeks and listened to his reflections on life and art before he passed away. 

I never met anyone with a greater gift for color and design.  He was a truly humble man, but he understood the nature of his gift-- how could he not?-- and always tried his best to respect and protect it.   A generous spirit, he never resented the legions of artists who imitated-- or copied-- his work.  He simply hunkered down and moved on to something new.  He died with his astonishing strengths undiminished.

Surveying the art scene ten years after his death, Bernie's artistic strengths are no longer as fashionable.  The oversized, glossy magazines which showcased his art died long before he did. "Concept art" and "idea illustration" arose in an effort to make content more relevant and thought-provoking than the corny romantic fiction sometimes illustrated by Bernie's generation.  But as content took center stage, visual skill, and even talent itself, became suspect. Polished images were viewed as a distraction from the message. The stature of visual form shrank as simpler images and deliberately careless drawings served as vehicles for thought.  Meanwhile, "photo illustration" proliferated in response to economic demand, and computer gaming art arose in a symbiotic relationship with viewers with short attention spans.

Audiences eager to avoid being accused of narrow mindedness concluded that the safest path was to abandon all standards. 

No one can be certain where art will be in a hundred years, or how visual quality will be valued in the rectifying mirror of time.  But as I take stock after the first ten years, Bernie's radiant images still stand out for me across a carnival yard cluttered with weak, shoddy and sensational quasi-art.  On the tenth anniversary of his death, his status as a giant in his field remains secure.

DANIEL SCHWARTZ PAINTS AN ORANGE

When Daniel Schwartz was commissioned to "paint an orange" for an advertisement, he didn't reach for the orange paint.  The labels on the paint tubes were irrelevant; Schwartz wanted a full range of colors to paint orange:

Similarly, Schwartz didn't feel his oranges had to be round.  Instead, he used his vivid imagination to come up with creative, interesting shapes.

When you paint at this level, the normal assumptions about shape and color go out the window.

NEW BOOK ABOUT AUSTIN BRIGGS, part 2

Austin Briggs studied hard to become a full fledged painter.  He mastered color theory and pigments and painting technique, and for years his full color paintings were in high demand from the top magazines and advertisers in America.

But at heart, Briggs was a "drawing" guy and as he developed, his line work kept pushing its way through the paint to dominate his pictures.

Briggs' career took an unusual turn.  He started out using basic drawing tools, like every beginning student, and worked his way up to using a full set of Winsor & Newton oil paints.  But at the peak of his success he began to find greater satisfaction in using the simpler, more humble tools-- a litho crayon or a piece of vine charcoal-- this time, with all the wisdom gained from decades of experience.

NEW BOOK ABOUT AUSTIN BRIGGS

The very first book about the great illustrator Austin Briggs has just been published by Auad Publishing (previous publisher of books about Robert Fawcett, Albert Dorne, Henry Raleigh and other classic illustrators).

I had the great pleasure of writing the text for the book.  

Briggs was one of the true greats of 20th century illustration.  I've often written about him on this blog, especially about his drawing which I greatly admire.   But Briggs worked in every kind of medium and played a significant role in every type of illustration from comic strips (Flash Gordon) to pulp magazines to the early movies to magazines, books and records. He ended his life painting landscapes and gallery paintings in Paris.

I was able to delve into his fascinating life with the cooperation of the Briggs family.

The Briggs book is  9 x12, 160 pages, $34.95, available from the Auad web site.

In the days ahead, I'll be posting additional images by Briggs that I particularly like, to supplement the new book.  

SOME THOUGHTS ON MARK ENGLISH (1933- 2019)

The great illustrator Mark English, who played a dominant role in American illustration for decades, passed away on August 8.

Through a rare combination of moxie and creative talent, English worked his way from picking cotton in the fields near Hubbard Texas for $1.50 per day to becoming a nationally renowned illustrator who received more awards from the Society of Illustrators than any other artist. 

He was the last remaining member of a small band of artists who clawed their way up from small towns, secured low paying jobs in Detroit working on car ads, and from that rigorous training ground launched hugely successful free lance careers.  That path is now closed to young artists, but while it was still available, audacious young talent such as English, Bernie Fuchs and Bob Heindel were able to distinguish themselves and come to the attention of the top art directors in the country.

Like Fuchs and Heindel, English took big gambles.  I've previously quoted his recollections of the chances he took moving his young family from Detroit to become an illustrator in Connecticut:

I had moved to Connecticut and in my first year there I made 20% of the salary that I had made in my last year.... It was a tough year and I had a lot of time on my hands.  I think not having much work enhanced my career more than anything else.  I spent a lot of time experimenting, trying to come up with something unique and different, and I think toward the end of that year I managed to do that on a job for the Readers Digest [for the book, Little Women]....I think that three or four of the illustrations were accepted into the Society's annual exhibition that year.  One of them won an award and got me a little attention.  After that I got into magazines and my career was launched.

English recalled that during that dry spell he went eight months without getting a single assignment. His wife became worried as money became very tight but he wouldn't turn back. "I think [it was] the best thing that ever happened to me, but at the time I didn't think so.... I don't think that I ever worked harder at anytime than I did during those eight months, trying to get better and be more competitive."

When the lucrative illustration market began to dry up, like Fuchs and Heindel English didn't quit or become paralyzed with fear.  He boldly pushed forward in new directions and became a highly successful gallery painter.

English was the last of a truly remarkable generation of artists in America.  He made excellent use of his years so that, in the words of John Milton, he could present a true account of his talents to his maker.  For this, he deserves to be remembered and celebrated.  I highly recommend his biography by Jill Bossert.

DISAPPEARING INTO FOG

The esteemed illustrator Robert Andrew Parker is 92 years old, and his vision has become so poor he can no longer read or draw from a model.  Still, he goes to his studio every day and paints from imagination and memory.  This is his recent painting, "Plane Disappearing Into Fog."

Parker had a long, prolific career before macular degeneration began stripping him of his precious eyesight.  I especially like his etchings-- rich, imaginative works with strong compositions.  They take full advantage of the grainy textures and special "look" of the etching medium, something very unusual for the field of illustration.

Parker also made some striking images expressing his political views:

Most people regard eyesight as the crucial requirement for a visual artist, but there are other compensating qualities that can help to offset diminishing sight.  One is imagination.  Here is Parker's recent painting of a dogfight between a plane and a bug:

Another is the strength of character to continue working at age 92.

I've previously quoted Tennyson's famous poem, Ulysses, which describes the hero's resolve, at the end of a long life of adventure, to set out once again. He rousts his aging comrades to accompany him to see if "some work of noble note may yet be done."

Ulysses admits that old age has robbed his crew of much, yet he glories in what still "abides":  

 Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

R.I.P. MAD MAGAZINE-- POSTSCRIPT

Better than words could convey, this illustration from today's New York Times demonstrates the significance of the passing of the era of MAD:

After a week enjoying examples on this blog of the beautiful craftsmanship of the MAD artists, this drawing in the Times feels like a nutmeg grater on the eyes.

The fact that such a mishap was selected by the New York Times to illustrate the end of MAD reveals more about today's audiences than perhaps the paper intended.  MAD was irreverent yet it revered good drawing. The "usual gang of idiots" was never the "gang of lazy slobs."  They had high standards, excellent taste and they worked their asses off-- a trifecta that enabled them to clobber dozens of competitors, decade after decade. 

If MAD must depart, perhaps it is partially because audiences such as the NYT readership no longer understand, or even care about, standards in the visual arts.

A GALLERY OF MORT DRUCKER ART FROM MAD MAGAZINE

For my final gallery of art from the late beloved MAD Magazine, I've chosen the brilliant Mort Drucker.

Drucker's talent graced the pages of MAD for 50 years. Looking back, his long legacy seems almost supernatural.  

The Godfather

The Godfather

The Godfather

Drucker always said he loved his job.  There's no other way to explain the overflowing generosity of his drawing or his sustained high standards.

Most other cartoonists would draw this next panel with just the two heads of the speakers.  Drucker added twelve additional figures and a complex background, just for kicks.

Bob and Carol and Ted and Alice.  Unlike other caricaturists, Drucker had to draw multiple likenesses of each face with expressions that matched whatever was happening in the scripts he was given.

Beverly Hills Cops

Patton: even the tanks are drawn at a jaunty angle

MAD Magazine will be forever enshrined in the annals of great and important American magazines.  As we've seen, many excellent artists contributed to that reputation.  But in my opinion, no one contributed more than the great Mort Drucker.