ONE LOVELY DRAWING, part 77

In one of the greatest passages of western literature, Dante begins The Divine Comedy:

Midway through the journey of life, I found myself in a dark wood where the right way was lost. 

For me, this lovely etching by Martin Lewis, titled Which Way? is the visual equivalent. 

We all set out on life's path eager to digest the world, but there comes a point midway through the journey when we realize that the world has been quietly digesting us all along, and that it's likely to win the race.  

Like Dante's dark woods, Lewis' blanket of snow covers the road and obscures the landscape. Our puny headlights are outmatched.  The road ends ahead but is that a cross or a telephone pole?  

I love the mood of this drawing, the fear rising in our chest from uncertainty and the lump in our throat from those stars in the sky.  

This image wouldn't be nearly so meaningful if it wasn't handled so effectively.  The lighting is brilliant.  The control of value is extraordinary.  Compare the information Lewis shares (the sharp details in the snow, for example) with the information he withholds (the silhouettes in the car).  

A beautifully orchestrated piece. 

ELEVEN REBELS ON THE ROOF

In 1961, two noteworthy events occurred in the art world: 

           1.  The artist Piero Manzoni sold cans of "Artist's Shit" as 

                 conceptual art.

          2. Eleven young realist painters took to the rooftops of 

              New York to rebel against the modern art trends of their day.

 

Today Manzoni's canned shit enjoys a place of honor in the prestigious Tate Art Museum in London.  I've been unable to locate a single work by the eleven realists at the Tate, but I'm displaying their work today on the equally prestigious IllustrationArt blog.

In an exhibition of paintings called “A Realist View” at the National Arts Club, the eleven questioned whether the new so-called freedom of modern art was an improvement.  They wrote, “This freedom from obligation has resulted, very largely, in an impoverishment of the artist’s imagination, not an enrichment of it.”  New York Times art critic Emily Genauer described the eleven as "the new rebels."

For a century modern artists had prided themselves on being rebels against the establishment.  Post-impressionists, cubists, fauvists, futurists, surrealists, modernists, dadaists, orphists, expressionists, abstract expressionists, conceptual artists, and pop artists (quickly followed by op artists, postmodernists, neo-expressionists, minimalists, color-field artists, graffiiti artists, installationists, performance artists, earthworks artists and assorted other types) have all enjoyed their time in the headlines.  By 1961, "rebellion" was commonplace.  But Genauer asserted that the eleven were "the most rebellious of all the new rebel art groups around today." 

The eleven artists were committed to realism, but they wanted to show how reality, when perceived through different eyes, could be original, diverse and fertile. 

Artist Burt Silverman painted psychologically insightful pictures.  He didn't speak in symbols or concepts.  As Auden wrote, "God must be a hidden deity, veiled by His creation."

Contrast Silverman's brand of realism with Harvey Dinnerstein's allegorical mural representing the parade of the 1960s:

Dinnerstein painted it in a sharply realistic but fantastical style, very different from the work of the others.

Daniel Schwartz explored bold colors and patterns in his work:

"Epiphany" by Schwartz

David Levine worked very differently, with a powerful graphic style

Aaron Shikler softened realism for his elegiac tribute to President Kennedy which is hanging in the White House  (unless of course the current occupant has taken it down):

The work of the eleven demonstrated different faces of realism, showing how it still offered plenty of meaningful opportunity for innovation, variety and growth.

The excitement of the new is difficult to resist.  Art that surprises us with unexpected valuations of things can be titillating... at least for a while.  After 1961, the role of the artist-- and the definition of art-- have expanded to the point where boundaries are almost impossible to find.  

During this same period, astrophysicists discovered that the increasing speed of the expansion of the universe will eventually rob the universe of all life, heat and meaning. Unless its trajectory changes, The future universe will be one in which even subatomic particles will no longer cohere, and matter will dissipate into a formless sea of entropy.

KENT WILLIAMS RELINQUISHES CONTROL

You put your left foot in, you take your left foot out,

You put your left foot in, and you shake it all about.

                                                        --- The Hokey Pokey 

Many contemporary artists seem to have have concluded that accuracy and realism are no longer sufficient, so they start a picture in a careful, realistic style then rough it up with an element of wildness-- a spill, a splatter, a deconstruction, a crude gesture.

Here, for example, the talented Jack Unruh proves that he can master fine detailed pen work but then offsets it with a loosely applied thick, wet black brush:

Next, the talented Joe Ciardiello draws with a sensitive, delicate line, but comes back with spatters of fluorescent paint and a primitive black brush that runs dry halfway through its mission:

Each in their own distinctive way, artists seem to feel that a picture benefits from the open clash of two opposite extremes.  They first demonstrate their great control of technical skills (as if to prove their credentials) then balance it with with pagan elements (as if to avoid the shame of appearing too civilized).  When done well, this increases the range of the drawing.

Andrew Wyeth, after slaving away on a very precise, careful painting, looked at it in despair and decided the only way he could cure it was to risk everything by throwing a cup of paint right in the middle of the picture. Then he quickly left the room before he lost his nerve and attempted to re-assert control. 

One of my favorite artists who pairs control with lack of control is Kent Williams:

Note how the fine line, detailed realism of this bird is enhanced by a messy ochre stain:

It contributes freedom and a casual looseness to what otherwise might be a too tight drawing.  It improves the composition and design, expands the range and contributes a more organic, natural feel to the work. 

Here is another example of an accomplished drawing where Williams gambled with an out-of-control spill and ended up improving it beyond what tight drawing might have accomplished:

 

After paying the terrible dues necessary to learn how to draw with control, how much of that control are we willing to surrender?  That is the question: