Floating Figures, 8'x5'
Preliminary sketch, 24"x18"
Preliminary sketch, 24"x18"
Oil Study, 36"x30"
Preliminary studies, charcoal, 24"x18":
Floating Figures, in-progress, 8'x5':
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Semester 3 Artwork
Artist Statement #4, Semester III
Artist Statement
Cameron Bennett, Group 4
Spring Semester 2011
For me, in the creation of a painting, the end-result is not all that matters; the artist’s gesture, the process of the creation of a work, is an equally important and inseparable part of the equation. In my experience, the limitations which come from working from life call heavily upon my creativity and powers of memory and imagination, moreso than if I were to work from a photograph; photography’s objective recording power somehow diminishes painterly creativity for me. On this note, I find that I often do more interesting work when operating under limited conditions, with less time, or with unfamiliar or difficult materials.
Working as an indexical responder to the visual qualities of nature, not of the photograph, and then personally mediating these responses, I attempt to create figurative paintings which are readable and unreadable, naturalistic and also un-natural, about painting itself, but which can also be viewed through other filters, one of which is the universal human condition.
Reading List, Semester III
Bibliography
Third Semester
Cameron Bennett
Group 4
Batchelor, David. Chromophobia, Reaktion Books Ltd, London, 2007
Bazin, Andre. “The Ontology of the Photographic Image,” What is Cinema? University of California Press, Berkeley, 1967, 9-16
Beeber, Neena. “The Heat of the Moment,” American Theater, November, 2005, Vol. 22 Issue 9: 48-52
Benjamin, Walter. “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction,” The Nineteenth Century Visual Culture Reader, Ed. Vanessa Schwartz and Przyblyski, Jeannene M. Routledge Taylor and Francis Group, NY and London, 2004, 63-70
Currie, Gregory. “Photography, Painting, and Perception,” The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, Winter91, Vol. 49 Issue 1: 23-29
Fischer, John. Review of “Photography and Philosophy: Essays on the Pencil of Nature,” Notre Dame Philosophical Reviews, http://ndpr.nd.edu/review.cfm?id=15286
Flint, Kate. “Painting Memory,” Textual Practice, Winter, 2003, Vol. 17 Issue 3: 527-542
Hawker, Rosemary. “The Idiom in Photography As the Truth in Painting,” The South Atlantic Quarterly, Summer, 2002: 541-554
James, Sarah. “What Can We Do With Photography?” Art Monthly, Dec, 2007, Issue 312: 1-4
McGrath, Robert L. “Sight & Insight: The Radical Realism of Burton Silverman,” Sight & Insight: The Art of Burton Silverman, Madison Square Press, New York, 1998, 13-23
Sanden, John Howard. Portraits From Life in 29 Steps, North Light Books, Ohio, 1999
Sanden, John Howard. International Artist, Oct/Nov 2001: 39-45
Third Semester
Cameron Bennett
Group 4
Batchelor, David. Chromophobia, Reaktion Books Ltd, London, 2007
Bazin, Andre. “The Ontology of the Photographic Image,” What is Cinema? University of California Press, Berkeley, 1967, 9-16
Beeber, Neena. “The Heat of the Moment,” American Theater, November, 2005, Vol. 22 Issue 9: 48-52
Benjamin, Walter. “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction,” The Nineteenth Century Visual Culture Reader, Ed. Vanessa Schwartz and Przyblyski, Jeannene M. Routledge Taylor and Francis Group, NY and London, 2004, 63-70
Currie, Gregory. “Photography, Painting, and Perception,” The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, Winter91, Vol. 49 Issue 1: 23-29
Fischer, John. Review of “Photography and Philosophy: Essays on the Pencil of Nature,” Notre Dame Philosophical Reviews, http://ndpr.nd.edu/review.cfm?id=15286
Flint, Kate. “Painting Memory,” Textual Practice, Winter, 2003, Vol. 17 Issue 3: 527-542
Hawker, Rosemary. “The Idiom in Photography As the Truth in Painting,” The South Atlantic Quarterly, Summer, 2002: 541-554
James, Sarah. “What Can We Do With Photography?” Art Monthly, Dec, 2007, Issue 312: 1-4
McGrath, Robert L. “Sight & Insight: The Radical Realism of Burton Silverman,” Sight & Insight: The Art of Burton Silverman, Madison Square Press, New York, 1998, 13-23
Sanden, John Howard. Portraits From Life in 29 Steps, North Light Books, Ohio, 1999
Sanden, John Howard. International Artist, Oct/Nov 2001: 39-45
Paper III, Semester III
Silverman and Sanden: Revealing and Concealing
Cameron Bennett
In my last essay “Organic Self-Sufficiency in Contemporary Painting,” I adopted an extreme stance on the practice of painting which is this: that painters should never use photography as an aid to their painting. In that essay, my main purpose was to try to explain what I believe is lost when painters rely on photography. In this essay, operating from the same premise, I hope to give clearer examples of the actual awareness contemporary realist painters have about the complexities of this issue, and how they choose to deal, or not deal with it. This is done for the purpose of better discovering my own place in contemporary realistic painting.
A painting which is very telling about the state of contemporary realist painting is Burton Silverman’s “Reflections”. In it, he depicts himself, camera in hand, as a reflection in a glass door, dissolving into the partly visible interior of his painting studio. His figure blends into his easel, which is, figuratively, a part of him. Silverman is part photographer, part painter. What I find telling about this painting is that Silverman, unlike many realist painters, by the inclusion of the camera, is honest about his use of photography in the practice of his painting.
In the monograph on Silverman, “Sight and Insight,” Robert McGrath writes: “Purportedly the result of a photograph, the work of art is palpably not the product of mechanical duplication. Employing a deliberately ‘painterly’ facture…the painter/photographer develops his composition in a visibly brushy manner….the marks of the painter…what the critic Arthur Danto has called ‘protective pigmentation’ are everywhere invoked as a bulwark against the look of photography…it is clearly the painter’s brush and not the camera’s lens that has shaped the finished work of art.” He also writes: “…the artist’s refusal to look through the viewfinder, to instantiate, as it were, the intervention of the camera’s lens between himself and his subject, would seem to assert the priority of individual perception and the primacy of painting over photography.” What I find strange about this is that a painting which wishes to place painting over photography should be one which simultaneously confesses a reliance on photography for its own creation, and then does so much to conceal that fact with abundant painterly facture. Further, contrary to McGrath, I assert that it is, in fact, the camera which is the primary shaper of this particular image, and that the brush’s role is secondary. Also, I insist that painters like Silverman, even in admitting openly their use of photography, are unaware of the extent to which they do rely on it for the creation of their paintings (almost completely).
Honest as the painting is about its use of photography, it is that very relation to photography which could cause it to be marginalized by contemporary art critics, to be considered pastiche, still caught up in what Andre Bazin calls the “Resemblance Complex.” According to Bazin, all realistic painting produced in the age of photography is still struggling with this complex. Bazin’s main argument is that painting should strive mainly for aesthetic quality and not attempt to compete with the camera for realism, which always outperforms the painter in that enterprise. We can assume that Bazin has abstract painting in mind as the remaining choice for painters. Bazin, however, in his essay “The Ontology of the Photographic Image” never acknowledges that realism in painting can be aesthetic.
Good realist painting, whether done from life or from photographs, ought to transform the visual reference into something artistic. I merely argue here that that act of transformation is not sufficient to make the act of painting from photographs justifiable: the transformation then becomes a disguising of the reliance on the photograph, a hiding of its photo-look, which is what Silverman does in his work. But, even if I have shown that realistic painting can be aesthetic, is this sufficient to establish its primacy over photography as an art form? If photography were merely taxonomic, then yes. What Bazin also does not explore in his essay, however, is not only the aesthetics of realistic painting, but also the aesthetic potential of photography. Photographs can be artistically manipulated, transformed, just in the way that realistic paintings can manipulate and transform, aestheticize the visual world.
So where does this leave us? Perhaps back at the argument that anything painters can do, the camera can do better. Or perhaps now, we have merely established equal footing for both disciplines, each now having aesthetic potential.
Silverman is open about his use of photography, but never seems to address whether he should or should not use it. For me, this question continues to be a complex and confusing one. I do not believe for one moment that I am the only painter who agonizes over the issue of whether or not to use photos in the production of his or her paintings. Time and again, realists hide the extent to which they rely on the camera, which would seem to indicate that there exists with them a discomfort surrounding this issue. Those who are honest about their use of photography, like Silverman and renowned portrait painter John Howard Sanden, adopt an “ends justify the means” attitude, which would seem to indicate that they are philosophically comfortable using photography. Sanden writes: “What matters is the result.” I do not believe that they are genuinely comfortable with their use of the camera, however, and here is why: their actions seem to reveal their very insecurities about it.
Sanden is a golden example of this, and he is especially schizophrenic about his own approach to portrait painting. In his books, articles and videos he enthusiastically proclaims the bold, direct, premier coup methods of his heroes in art (the main one being John Singer Sargent, whose ouvre of portraits is well known to have been produced entirely from life) while simultaneously teaching a technique for his own paintings which is very indirect, very careful, and relies almost entirely on photographs. To his credit, Sanden is capable of impressive life sketches in oil, made quickly from the live sitter. But! Sanden falls far short of his own inspirational hype about working directly, in premier coup. The premier coup method he employs for his head studies is never used in his finished paintings. Here is Sanden’s predicament: he knows how deeply he is indebted to the camera and feels uneasy about it, hence his need to create for himself the persona of the bravura, alla prima painter who works from life, however disingenuous that persona may be.
Incredibly, he lays himself bare to this accusation in magazine articles, books, and videos time and time again, yet I never hear of or have never read any criticism like the one I am delivering here. Each of his demonstrations commences with a preamble on the benefits of working like Sargent, (alla prima, from life) and then comically, proceeds to a demonstration of painting in which he tediously works from a photograph, beginning with a tight, complete drawing in line, to which he then adds color and value, from the darkest shadows up to the lights and so on. Are the paintings done in this way good? Yes, they are very skillful, but they look like photographs. His life sketches, to my eye, have a joy and spontaneity about them which is lacking in the finished works.
Silverman, like Sanden, does more-than-adequate work from life. He is well known for his drawings. He even, on occasion, will do a painting from a life-drawing, as in his portrait of his dying mother, or the gentleman in “Trattoria.”
The lesson here is, I think, that each artist works sufficiently well enough without the use of photos to put the camera away permanently. Of the two artists, I argue, Silverman’s paintings, when done from photos, have less of a photo look to them. Sanden, when working from photos, seems to only be able to copy the photo as closely as he can, and then only afterwards add flashy touches of paint. The result is that his paintings look much more like photographs, which for me, is an undesirable and unfortunate effect, one which gives them a kitschy quality.
The bottom line, however, is this: each of these artists attempts to simultaneously hide and reveal the contribution photography makes in his painting. Each does this, I argue, because he is uncomfortable with the role the photograph plays in his art, and he is aware of the shaky philosophical ground he is left on. I share this state of unease in my own art, as do, apparently, many contemporary realist painters. How simple the equation would be if painters left the camera behind and worked self-sufficiently, using only their own organic powers of draftsmanship, memory, and imagination, which many artists have, like Silverman, but seem to not have sufficient faith in. I, for now, at least, am attempting to push myself in this direction, am working from the figure, and have put the camera down.
Bibliography:
Bazin, Andre. “The Ontology of the Photographic Image,” What is Cinema? University of California Press, Berkeley, 1967, 9-16
McGrath, Robert L. “Sight & Insight: The Radical Realism of Burton Silverman,” Sight & Insight: The Art of Burton Silverman, Madison Square Press, New York, 1998, 13-23
Sanden, John Howard. Portraits From Life in 29 Steps, North Light Books, Ohio, 1999
Sanden, John Howard. International Artist, Oct/Nov 2001: 39-45
Cameron Bennett
In my last essay “Organic Self-Sufficiency in Contemporary Painting,” I adopted an extreme stance on the practice of painting which is this: that painters should never use photography as an aid to their painting. In that essay, my main purpose was to try to explain what I believe is lost when painters rely on photography. In this essay, operating from the same premise, I hope to give clearer examples of the actual awareness contemporary realist painters have about the complexities of this issue, and how they choose to deal, or not deal with it. This is done for the purpose of better discovering my own place in contemporary realistic painting.
A painting which is very telling about the state of contemporary realist painting is Burton Silverman’s “Reflections”. In it, he depicts himself, camera in hand, as a reflection in a glass door, dissolving into the partly visible interior of his painting studio. His figure blends into his easel, which is, figuratively, a part of him. Silverman is part photographer, part painter. What I find telling about this painting is that Silverman, unlike many realist painters, by the inclusion of the camera, is honest about his use of photography in the practice of his painting.
In the monograph on Silverman, “Sight and Insight,” Robert McGrath writes: “Purportedly the result of a photograph, the work of art is palpably not the product of mechanical duplication. Employing a deliberately ‘painterly’ facture…the painter/photographer develops his composition in a visibly brushy manner….the marks of the painter…what the critic Arthur Danto has called ‘protective pigmentation’ are everywhere invoked as a bulwark against the look of photography…it is clearly the painter’s brush and not the camera’s lens that has shaped the finished work of art.” He also writes: “…the artist’s refusal to look through the viewfinder, to instantiate, as it were, the intervention of the camera’s lens between himself and his subject, would seem to assert the priority of individual perception and the primacy of painting over photography.” What I find strange about this is that a painting which wishes to place painting over photography should be one which simultaneously confesses a reliance on photography for its own creation, and then does so much to conceal that fact with abundant painterly facture. Further, contrary to McGrath, I assert that it is, in fact, the camera which is the primary shaper of this particular image, and that the brush’s role is secondary. Also, I insist that painters like Silverman, even in admitting openly their use of photography, are unaware of the extent to which they do rely on it for the creation of their paintings (almost completely).
Honest as the painting is about its use of photography, it is that very relation to photography which could cause it to be marginalized by contemporary art critics, to be considered pastiche, still caught up in what Andre Bazin calls the “Resemblance Complex.” According to Bazin, all realistic painting produced in the age of photography is still struggling with this complex. Bazin’s main argument is that painting should strive mainly for aesthetic quality and not attempt to compete with the camera for realism, which always outperforms the painter in that enterprise. We can assume that Bazin has abstract painting in mind as the remaining choice for painters. Bazin, however, in his essay “The Ontology of the Photographic Image” never acknowledges that realism in painting can be aesthetic.
Good realist painting, whether done from life or from photographs, ought to transform the visual reference into something artistic. I merely argue here that that act of transformation is not sufficient to make the act of painting from photographs justifiable: the transformation then becomes a disguising of the reliance on the photograph, a hiding of its photo-look, which is what Silverman does in his work. But, even if I have shown that realistic painting can be aesthetic, is this sufficient to establish its primacy over photography as an art form? If photography were merely taxonomic, then yes. What Bazin also does not explore in his essay, however, is not only the aesthetics of realistic painting, but also the aesthetic potential of photography. Photographs can be artistically manipulated, transformed, just in the way that realistic paintings can manipulate and transform, aestheticize the visual world.
So where does this leave us? Perhaps back at the argument that anything painters can do, the camera can do better. Or perhaps now, we have merely established equal footing for both disciplines, each now having aesthetic potential.
Silverman is open about his use of photography, but never seems to address whether he should or should not use it. For me, this question continues to be a complex and confusing one. I do not believe for one moment that I am the only painter who agonizes over the issue of whether or not to use photos in the production of his or her paintings. Time and again, realists hide the extent to which they rely on the camera, which would seem to indicate that there exists with them a discomfort surrounding this issue. Those who are honest about their use of photography, like Silverman and renowned portrait painter John Howard Sanden, adopt an “ends justify the means” attitude, which would seem to indicate that they are philosophically comfortable using photography. Sanden writes: “What matters is the result.” I do not believe that they are genuinely comfortable with their use of the camera, however, and here is why: their actions seem to reveal their very insecurities about it.
Sanden is a golden example of this, and he is especially schizophrenic about his own approach to portrait painting. In his books, articles and videos he enthusiastically proclaims the bold, direct, premier coup methods of his heroes in art (the main one being John Singer Sargent, whose ouvre of portraits is well known to have been produced entirely from life) while simultaneously teaching a technique for his own paintings which is very indirect, very careful, and relies almost entirely on photographs. To his credit, Sanden is capable of impressive life sketches in oil, made quickly from the live sitter. But! Sanden falls far short of his own inspirational hype about working directly, in premier coup. The premier coup method he employs for his head studies is never used in his finished paintings. Here is Sanden’s predicament: he knows how deeply he is indebted to the camera and feels uneasy about it, hence his need to create for himself the persona of the bravura, alla prima painter who works from life, however disingenuous that persona may be.
Incredibly, he lays himself bare to this accusation in magazine articles, books, and videos time and time again, yet I never hear of or have never read any criticism like the one I am delivering here. Each of his demonstrations commences with a preamble on the benefits of working like Sargent, (alla prima, from life) and then comically, proceeds to a demonstration of painting in which he tediously works from a photograph, beginning with a tight, complete drawing in line, to which he then adds color and value, from the darkest shadows up to the lights and so on. Are the paintings done in this way good? Yes, they are very skillful, but they look like photographs. His life sketches, to my eye, have a joy and spontaneity about them which is lacking in the finished works.
Silverman, like Sanden, does more-than-adequate work from life. He is well known for his drawings. He even, on occasion, will do a painting from a life-drawing, as in his portrait of his dying mother, or the gentleman in “Trattoria.”
The lesson here is, I think, that each artist works sufficiently well enough without the use of photos to put the camera away permanently. Of the two artists, I argue, Silverman’s paintings, when done from photos, have less of a photo look to them. Sanden, when working from photos, seems to only be able to copy the photo as closely as he can, and then only afterwards add flashy touches of paint. The result is that his paintings look much more like photographs, which for me, is an undesirable and unfortunate effect, one which gives them a kitschy quality.
The bottom line, however, is this: each of these artists attempts to simultaneously hide and reveal the contribution photography makes in his painting. Each does this, I argue, because he is uncomfortable with the role the photograph plays in his art, and he is aware of the shaky philosophical ground he is left on. I share this state of unease in my own art, as do, apparently, many contemporary realist painters. How simple the equation would be if painters left the camera behind and worked self-sufficiently, using only their own organic powers of draftsmanship, memory, and imagination, which many artists have, like Silverman, but seem to not have sufficient faith in. I, for now, at least, am attempting to push myself in this direction, am working from the figure, and have put the camera down.
Bibliography:
Bazin, Andre. “The Ontology of the Photographic Image,” What is Cinema? University of California Press, Berkeley, 1967, 9-16
McGrath, Robert L. “Sight & Insight: The Radical Realism of Burton Silverman,” Sight & Insight: The Art of Burton Silverman, Madison Square Press, New York, 1998, 13-23
Sanden, John Howard. Portraits From Life in 29 Steps, North Light Books, Ohio, 1999
Sanden, John Howard. International Artist, Oct/Nov 2001: 39-45
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Paper II, Semester III
Organic Self-Sufficiency in Contemporary Painting
Cameron Bennett
Recently, I shared a deep conviction of mine with several fellow painters which left them aghast: that so-called “perceptual” painters should not use photography as reference for their paintings. At this point, you the reader will either roll your eyes, put down this essay and move on to something else, or you will read on, out of curiosity, perhaps, but most likely not out of sympathy.
Why do I have such a strong reaction to realistic painting when I know, or suspect, that it has been done using photography? Why do I have such an urge to ascribe a right-and-wrong morality to Art, which is, ultimately, completely amoral? Is the guilt I feel about using photographs in my fine art a kind of anal-retentiveness, the unhappy result of a strict upbringing? Whatever the reasons, I can not free myself from the feeling that something is wrong with the general praxis of representational painting today, and I seem to be very much in the minority in this belief. 1
In this essay, I will make several points, each one subject to the overarching idea that there is a general trend in our society which is this: the human organism is becoming mechanized.2 I will try to show that painters are in denial about the extent of their reliance on photography, which, I argue, is a kind of mechanization, and will discuss what is lost when the painter relies too heavily on the camera. Further, I will discuss certain philosophical differences between photography and painting and how they relate to perception. Lastly, I will share my own personal reflections on current artistic quandaries relating to the themes in this essay.
I submit that if photography, digital or otherwise, were to evaporate from the universe, most painters would not be able to function. If forced to rely on their own powers of draftsmanship, memory, and imagination, their products would be vastly inferior to, or at least vastly different from, what they had been doing with photography.
I believe that two things are sacrificed when painters use photographs:
1. the essence of the original subject which will become the subject of the painting 3
2. the self-sufficiency arising from the powers of the artist found in its own organism: draftsmanship, memory, and imagination 4
Walter Benjamin’s idea of “aura” is similar to my thinking about the first instance. Benjamin writes: “…every day the urge grows stronger to get hold of an object at very close range by way of its likeness, its reproduction.”5 Digital photography has arrived and it is ubiquitous, attached even to cell-phones, and the internet has given us almost total access to reproductions of everything under the sun. Benjamin: “…that which withers in the age of mechanical reproduction is the aura of the work of art.”6 My thinking about Benjamin’s “aura” is that it is a concept which can be applied to every original thing that is reproduced, not merely the work of art. So, as in the first instance of what happens when painters work from photos, if the aura is lost or diminished in the mechanical citing of the original subject, as in the photo, the painting done from that photo will capture even less of that aura. This is undesirable. And if it can be argued that the painter who works without photos still diminishes aura, he or she at least does so organically, self-sufficiently, which is more desirable.
A painter like Eric Fischl might be a very good example of an artist who exhibits the phenomenon I mention in the second instance. Fischl, a painter working in a realistic style, relies heavily on photographs for his paintings. He does this for a number of reasons. For him, looking at nature, which is not in an enclosed rectangle, is more difficult to process than looking at a photograph of nature, which is enclosed in a rectangle. “Even more so than a square or an oval, “ he states, “ the rectangle seems to be the way our heads interpret space.”7 Fischl also is more at ease working from photographs, at least in the use of the human figure, than he is in working from the figure itself. “I’m not able to distance myself from real people…When I work from photographs, there’s a neutrality…and then I can feel much more relaxed about using them in ways which fit my vision.”8 Further, on the subject of attempting to work without photographs he says: “When I first started I was trying to paint from memory, but the complexity of the body---the shape, the shadings, the gesture---kept showing my memory had failed.”9 I use Fischl as an example because he is a well-known artist who is highly reliant on photography, he is an organism reliant on the mechanism. I am arguing that he and many, many like him, are not self-sufficient as painters because of this reliance. This, to my mind, is undesirable.10
Photography is a self-sufficient medium. Photographers do not need paintings to make photographs. The average realist painter of today is not self-sufficient because photographs are essential to his or her paintings. Painters who use photographs defend themselves by calling photography merely a “tool” or an “aid,” adding that they really could do without photographs if they had to, as though photography were dispensible.11 This is interesting to me because this mentality of so many painters is, actually, an insult to photographers. Would any artist working in any medium like to be told that his or her medium is a “mere” this or that, or that it is dispensible, inessential? The insult is magnified, too, because most realist painters who use photography are completely in denial of just how essential the photograph is to their painting. Clearly, if the painter were to rely on the powers of his or her own organism and not lean so heavily on the camera, then uncomfortable situations like this would be completely avoided. I have been saying for years now: let painters make paintings and let photographers make photographs. This would be desirable.
There are painters whose work is conceptually vested in photography, like Gerhard Richter. Richter, then, if viewed through the lens of my arguments, is above reproach because his work is completely honest about its use of the photograph. Richter, unlike realist painters who are dishonest about the extent to which they rely on a separate mechanical device for their paintings, does what all these painters ought to be doing in the first place: he makes himself the mechanical device. “I am not trying to imitate a photograph: I’m trying to make one. And if I disregard the assumption that a photograph is a piece of paper exposed to light, then I am practicing photography by other means.”12 In other words, by “making” the photograph himself, he makes himself (the painter, the organism) become the camera. This is what I have been saying for years: The painter must be the camera. This is desirable. Of course, in this instance, it is what Richter says and not what he does to which I respond positively. When Richter makes a photo-realistic painting, he still relies on the photograph in a way which is not self-sufficient. Of course, he, and other photo-painters like him, may do this because it is central to their concept.
Ultimately, I am aware of the differences between the camera’s recording capabilities and those of even the most highly trained artist. The camera can do things that the painter can’t. The painter can not compete with the camera’s speed at capturing actual shape, value, and color. Also, according to philosopher Kendall Walton, photographs are “transparent” because we actually “perceive” the objects in them, while paintings are not because they exhibit “intentional dependence,”13 that is, they are mediated by the flawed vision of the painter.14 Richter, turns the entire issue on its head. He argues that photos and paintings are both merely representations, and that “…all representational practices are similarly inadequate.”15 He says: “ Most images would have us forget the fact that what we see when we see an image is the curtain, or veil, or screen, or canvas of representation, its very fabric.”16 This concept is central to Richter’s photo-paintings, but he fixates on the inadequate aspects of both mediums, and ignores the fact that photos and paintings can record faithfully. I argue that the human organism, under proper circumstances, can record as faithfully as a camera. The painter is able to strip away the self, to a certain extent, and become an indexical channeller of nature. This is what real draftsmanship is: it is a Buddhist-like elimination of the personal to get to the truth of vision. Believe it or not, this is what the academies used to teach: this Buddhist-like enterprise called “seeing.” “Seeing” is necessary for faithful drawing.17
Even so, I feel it’s pointless to pit the camera against the artist; the purpose of art is not to merely record natural visual effects as well as a mechanical device can. For the perceptual painter, I feel, it should be about transforming those effects into something else. This should be done, preferably, as organically as possible. As I mentioned well above, if this organic artistic process involves the making of many studies from which the final work is produced, the essence of the subject may in some ways be compromised.
Here is where I second-guess myself: cannot the photo actually allow a certain essence of the subject to be retained, where a drawing or painting might not, as in the likeness of the sitter in a portrait? Barthes would answer in the affirmative; photos posess for him the punctum, the emotional response. Perhaps in losing one kind of essence in the painting made from a photo, another kind of essence is gained. Perhaps aura is exchanged for punctum. But then, on the other hand, why make a painting if the photo does it all?
Being a lover of naturalism in art, I am often completely seduced by quality paintings which have been done from photographs, even traced from them. I used to think that if the photo allowed the painter to do beautiful paintings, then those paintings are better than lame paintings done from life. Now I am not so sure. Perhaps I am standing at a philosophical crossroads between representation and non-representation. Non-representational painting, at least, relies far less, if at all, on the mechanism, arising from something inside the artist which is not tempered by the appearances of nature, as is the case with the representational painter.
I love representation in painting, perceptual realism. Unfortunately, my enjoyment of realistic painting will now always be tainted by not knowing the organic/mechanic ratio of a work. For me, I feel gypped when that ratio is not 100%/0%,18 and this ratio is what I strive for in my own painting. Of course, owing to the direction in which the winds of change are blowing, that ratio probably won’t always be, at least not for every work.
Notes:
1 I may be in the minority among painters with these ideas, but I am not entirely alone. The Art Renewal Center, headed by its Director Fred Ross, has created a forum in which he and other contemporary traditionalist painters seek to refute the arguments put forward by David Hockney in his book “Secret Knowledge, Rediscovering the Lost Techniques of the Old Masters.” Hockney postulates that many of the so-called great masters used lenses and photographic apparati in their work. Ross and his coterie argue that these apparati were used for purposes other than painting, and that nothing more than sound draftsmanship is behind the works of the masters.
2 I’m not a great fan of science fiction, but I think the concept of the “cyborg” (part man and part machine, think Robocop, Six Million Dollar Man, Terminator, Star Trek, etc.) is very useful in communicating a point about where our society is heading. Do we not see a greater and greater dependence on gadgets, especially those which are attached to the human body, or inside it? Do people not walk around in public with telephone headsets permanently attached to the sides of their heads and i-phones in-hand? This is what I call the “cyborg phenomenon.” The other term I will coin here is “screen worship,” that is, a growing necessity to process and partake of our three-dimensional world on a two-dimensional screen.
3 In the first instance, a painting from a photograph is a response to a response. This is undesirable. The essence of the original subject is overly reduced. A painting direct from the subject is desirable. More of the essence is retained.
4 In the second instance, a painting from a photograph lessens the organic input of the organism, the living artist. It is lessened because of the reliance on the mechanism, the camera. When this becomes general praxis, the powers of the organism, the artist, are diminished if not completely lost. This is undesirable. A painting made without reliance on a mechanical device would call upon more of the powers of the artist. When this becomes general praxis, the powers of the artist strengthen. This is desirable.
5 Walter Benjamin, The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction, The Nineteenth Century Visual Culture Reader, (New York and London, Routledge Taylor and Francis Group, 2004)p. 66
6 Benjamin, 65
7 Neena Beber, “The Heat of the Moment,” American Theater, Nov. 2005, p.49
8 Beber, 49
9 Beber, 50
10 Even though I use Eric Fischl as an example of a worst-case scenario contemporary cyborg artist, I completely sympathize with him. Painting from photographs is truly much simpler than painting from life, especially if one cannot afford to hire models or find time for the hours necessary to make, and then synthesize, multiple drawings and studies into finished works. I speak from experience. For some of us, the temptation is then to not even draw from the photo, but to trace it, which for me is the most inexcusable kind of crime of which an artist can be guilty. It certainly saves time, but, I believe, it is tantamount to selling-out. For the full potential of the organically driven, self-sufficient artist, drawing is sacrosant. Ingres is known to have said: “Drawing is the probity of Art.”
11 Predictably, on the blogosphere, I have found blog after blog revealing just the kind of attitudes described above. Incredibly, I have even found at least two or three places where comments are made to the effect that it is only the neophyte of painting who feels strongly that photographs should not be used in painting. I am, first of all, completely insulted by that, and secondly greatly troubled by it because it reveals the extent to which, to my mind, painters have really ceased to think about what they do.
12 Hawker, Rosemary, “The Idiom in Photography As the Truth in Painting,” The South Atlantic Quarterly, Summer, 2002, p.543
13 Currie, Gregory, “Photography, Painting, and Perception,” The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, Winter91, Vol. 49 Issue 1, p.24
14 Even Victorian discussions drew parallels between the personal aspect of memory and vision. In her article “Painting Memory,” Kate Flint writes: “Strikingly, these two versions of memory---on the one hand physiological, on the other, subjective and personal---correspond to the two co-existing versions of vision… with their internal variables… the variations in vision which are produced by the optical differences to be found between different people’s eyes,and the subjectivity inherent in every act of processing one’s visual impressions.” Textual Practice, Winter, 2003, Vol. 17 Issue 3. p.530
15 Hawker, 547
16 Hawker, 551
17 The academies also used to place strong emphasis on training the memory of the artist. Le Coq de Boisbaudran taught in France in the mid 19th Century. His “The Training of the Memory in Art and the Education of the Artist” is a perfect example of this emphasis put on strengthening memory for better drawing.
18 In her article “What Can We Do With Photography?”(Art Monthly, Dec, 2007, Issue 312, p.1) Sarah James relates the gallery-going public’s shift from a feeling of being “gypped” by galleries holding only photographic exhibitions to being “…more comfortable with the photograph-and its artistic status-than it ever has been.” My interpretation of this remark is that the public likes to see art which reflects the hand of the artist, be it in painting or other media, and that, for a time at least, the mechanical aspect of photography did not satisfy. Now, however, with the public’s broader acceptance of photography in the realm of art, we are seeing a broader reception of the mechanical, the photoraph, over the organic, that is, the thing made by the hand of the artist, the organism.
I confess, that I almost always feel “gypped” in the presence of a photograph. When looking at images, I always prefer to see the organically produced work. This is completely personal and not a judgement of photography as an art form, and I am totally aware of arguments which could be made about photography qualifying as “organic,” though I will not address this here.
In the seventies and eighties, my childhood friends and I were acutely sensitive to the use of synthesizers, drum machines and samples in pop-music. They were not the “real thing.” Entire genres of music were dismissed by us because of this conviction. Often, I would turn on the radio, get excited about a favorite song just beginning, and then groan with disgust because it was actually the sampled original tacked-on to the beginning of, and used through, a piece of music by an altogether different artist. The postmodernist would validate this practice by calling it appropriation. For me, I felt “gypped.” In college, synthesizers which used samples of recorded acoustic instruments and then made them playable on an electronic keyboard were decried as sounding “canned.” In short, the organic original was replaced with a mechanical simulation. People felt “gypped.”
Bibliography:
Beeber, Neena. “The Heat of the Moment,” American Theater, November, 2005, Vol. 22 Issue 9: 48-52
Benjamin, Walter. “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction,” The Nineteenth Century Visual Culture Reader, Ed. Vanessa Schwartz and Przyblyski, Jeannene M. Routledge Taylor and Francis Group, NY and London, 2004, 63-70
Currie, Gregory. “Photography, Painting, and Perception,” The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, Winter91, Vol. 49 Issue 1: 23-29
Fischer, John. Review of “Photography and Philosophy: Essays on the Pencil of Nature,” Notre Dame Philosophical Reviews, http://ndpr.nd.edu/review.cfm?id=15286
Flint, Kate. “Painting Memory,” Textual Practice, Winter, 2003, Vol. 17 Issue 3: 527-542
Hawker, Rosemary. “The Idiom in Photography As the Truth in Painting,” The South Atlantic Quarterly, Summer, 2002: 541-554
James, Sarah. “What Can We Do With Photography?” Art Monthly, Dec, 2007, Issue 312: 1-4
Cameron Bennett
Recently, I shared a deep conviction of mine with several fellow painters which left them aghast: that so-called “perceptual” painters should not use photography as reference for their paintings. At this point, you the reader will either roll your eyes, put down this essay and move on to something else, or you will read on, out of curiosity, perhaps, but most likely not out of sympathy.
Why do I have such a strong reaction to realistic painting when I know, or suspect, that it has been done using photography? Why do I have such an urge to ascribe a right-and-wrong morality to Art, which is, ultimately, completely amoral? Is the guilt I feel about using photographs in my fine art a kind of anal-retentiveness, the unhappy result of a strict upbringing? Whatever the reasons, I can not free myself from the feeling that something is wrong with the general praxis of representational painting today, and I seem to be very much in the minority in this belief. 1
In this essay, I will make several points, each one subject to the overarching idea that there is a general trend in our society which is this: the human organism is becoming mechanized.2 I will try to show that painters are in denial about the extent of their reliance on photography, which, I argue, is a kind of mechanization, and will discuss what is lost when the painter relies too heavily on the camera. Further, I will discuss certain philosophical differences between photography and painting and how they relate to perception. Lastly, I will share my own personal reflections on current artistic quandaries relating to the themes in this essay.
I submit that if photography, digital or otherwise, were to evaporate from the universe, most painters would not be able to function. If forced to rely on their own powers of draftsmanship, memory, and imagination, their products would be vastly inferior to, or at least vastly different from, what they had been doing with photography.
I believe that two things are sacrificed when painters use photographs:
1. the essence of the original subject which will become the subject of the painting 3
2. the self-sufficiency arising from the powers of the artist found in its own organism: draftsmanship, memory, and imagination 4
Walter Benjamin’s idea of “aura” is similar to my thinking about the first instance. Benjamin writes: “…every day the urge grows stronger to get hold of an object at very close range by way of its likeness, its reproduction.”5 Digital photography has arrived and it is ubiquitous, attached even to cell-phones, and the internet has given us almost total access to reproductions of everything under the sun. Benjamin: “…that which withers in the age of mechanical reproduction is the aura of the work of art.”6 My thinking about Benjamin’s “aura” is that it is a concept which can be applied to every original thing that is reproduced, not merely the work of art. So, as in the first instance of what happens when painters work from photos, if the aura is lost or diminished in the mechanical citing of the original subject, as in the photo, the painting done from that photo will capture even less of that aura. This is undesirable. And if it can be argued that the painter who works without photos still diminishes aura, he or she at least does so organically, self-sufficiently, which is more desirable.
A painter like Eric Fischl might be a very good example of an artist who exhibits the phenomenon I mention in the second instance. Fischl, a painter working in a realistic style, relies heavily on photographs for his paintings. He does this for a number of reasons. For him, looking at nature, which is not in an enclosed rectangle, is more difficult to process than looking at a photograph of nature, which is enclosed in a rectangle. “Even more so than a square or an oval, “ he states, “ the rectangle seems to be the way our heads interpret space.”7 Fischl also is more at ease working from photographs, at least in the use of the human figure, than he is in working from the figure itself. “I’m not able to distance myself from real people…When I work from photographs, there’s a neutrality…and then I can feel much more relaxed about using them in ways which fit my vision.”8 Further, on the subject of attempting to work without photographs he says: “When I first started I was trying to paint from memory, but the complexity of the body---the shape, the shadings, the gesture---kept showing my memory had failed.”9 I use Fischl as an example because he is a well-known artist who is highly reliant on photography, he is an organism reliant on the mechanism. I am arguing that he and many, many like him, are not self-sufficient as painters because of this reliance. This, to my mind, is undesirable.10
Photography is a self-sufficient medium. Photographers do not need paintings to make photographs. The average realist painter of today is not self-sufficient because photographs are essential to his or her paintings. Painters who use photographs defend themselves by calling photography merely a “tool” or an “aid,” adding that they really could do without photographs if they had to, as though photography were dispensible.11 This is interesting to me because this mentality of so many painters is, actually, an insult to photographers. Would any artist working in any medium like to be told that his or her medium is a “mere” this or that, or that it is dispensible, inessential? The insult is magnified, too, because most realist painters who use photography are completely in denial of just how essential the photograph is to their painting. Clearly, if the painter were to rely on the powers of his or her own organism and not lean so heavily on the camera, then uncomfortable situations like this would be completely avoided. I have been saying for years now: let painters make paintings and let photographers make photographs. This would be desirable.
There are painters whose work is conceptually vested in photography, like Gerhard Richter. Richter, then, if viewed through the lens of my arguments, is above reproach because his work is completely honest about its use of the photograph. Richter, unlike realist painters who are dishonest about the extent to which they rely on a separate mechanical device for their paintings, does what all these painters ought to be doing in the first place: he makes himself the mechanical device. “I am not trying to imitate a photograph: I’m trying to make one. And if I disregard the assumption that a photograph is a piece of paper exposed to light, then I am practicing photography by other means.”12 In other words, by “making” the photograph himself, he makes himself (the painter, the organism) become the camera. This is what I have been saying for years: The painter must be the camera. This is desirable. Of course, in this instance, it is what Richter says and not what he does to which I respond positively. When Richter makes a photo-realistic painting, he still relies on the photograph in a way which is not self-sufficient. Of course, he, and other photo-painters like him, may do this because it is central to their concept.
Ultimately, I am aware of the differences between the camera’s recording capabilities and those of even the most highly trained artist. The camera can do things that the painter can’t. The painter can not compete with the camera’s speed at capturing actual shape, value, and color. Also, according to philosopher Kendall Walton, photographs are “transparent” because we actually “perceive” the objects in them, while paintings are not because they exhibit “intentional dependence,”13 that is, they are mediated by the flawed vision of the painter.14 Richter, turns the entire issue on its head. He argues that photos and paintings are both merely representations, and that “…all representational practices are similarly inadequate.”15 He says: “ Most images would have us forget the fact that what we see when we see an image is the curtain, or veil, or screen, or canvas of representation, its very fabric.”16 This concept is central to Richter’s photo-paintings, but he fixates on the inadequate aspects of both mediums, and ignores the fact that photos and paintings can record faithfully. I argue that the human organism, under proper circumstances, can record as faithfully as a camera. The painter is able to strip away the self, to a certain extent, and become an indexical channeller of nature. This is what real draftsmanship is: it is a Buddhist-like elimination of the personal to get to the truth of vision. Believe it or not, this is what the academies used to teach: this Buddhist-like enterprise called “seeing.” “Seeing” is necessary for faithful drawing.17
Even so, I feel it’s pointless to pit the camera against the artist; the purpose of art is not to merely record natural visual effects as well as a mechanical device can. For the perceptual painter, I feel, it should be about transforming those effects into something else. This should be done, preferably, as organically as possible. As I mentioned well above, if this organic artistic process involves the making of many studies from which the final work is produced, the essence of the subject may in some ways be compromised.
Here is where I second-guess myself: cannot the photo actually allow a certain essence of the subject to be retained, where a drawing or painting might not, as in the likeness of the sitter in a portrait? Barthes would answer in the affirmative; photos posess for him the punctum, the emotional response. Perhaps in losing one kind of essence in the painting made from a photo, another kind of essence is gained. Perhaps aura is exchanged for punctum. But then, on the other hand, why make a painting if the photo does it all?
Being a lover of naturalism in art, I am often completely seduced by quality paintings which have been done from photographs, even traced from them. I used to think that if the photo allowed the painter to do beautiful paintings, then those paintings are better than lame paintings done from life. Now I am not so sure. Perhaps I am standing at a philosophical crossroads between representation and non-representation. Non-representational painting, at least, relies far less, if at all, on the mechanism, arising from something inside the artist which is not tempered by the appearances of nature, as is the case with the representational painter.
I love representation in painting, perceptual realism. Unfortunately, my enjoyment of realistic painting will now always be tainted by not knowing the organic/mechanic ratio of a work. For me, I feel gypped when that ratio is not 100%/0%,18 and this ratio is what I strive for in my own painting. Of course, owing to the direction in which the winds of change are blowing, that ratio probably won’t always be, at least not for every work.
Notes:
1 I may be in the minority among painters with these ideas, but I am not entirely alone. The Art Renewal Center, headed by its Director Fred Ross, has created a forum in which he and other contemporary traditionalist painters seek to refute the arguments put forward by David Hockney in his book “Secret Knowledge, Rediscovering the Lost Techniques of the Old Masters.” Hockney postulates that many of the so-called great masters used lenses and photographic apparati in their work. Ross and his coterie argue that these apparati were used for purposes other than painting, and that nothing more than sound draftsmanship is behind the works of the masters.
2 I’m not a great fan of science fiction, but I think the concept of the “cyborg” (part man and part machine, think Robocop, Six Million Dollar Man, Terminator, Star Trek, etc.) is very useful in communicating a point about where our society is heading. Do we not see a greater and greater dependence on gadgets, especially those which are attached to the human body, or inside it? Do people not walk around in public with telephone headsets permanently attached to the sides of their heads and i-phones in-hand? This is what I call the “cyborg phenomenon.” The other term I will coin here is “screen worship,” that is, a growing necessity to process and partake of our three-dimensional world on a two-dimensional screen.
3 In the first instance, a painting from a photograph is a response to a response. This is undesirable. The essence of the original subject is overly reduced. A painting direct from the subject is desirable. More of the essence is retained.
4 In the second instance, a painting from a photograph lessens the organic input of the organism, the living artist. It is lessened because of the reliance on the mechanism, the camera. When this becomes general praxis, the powers of the organism, the artist, are diminished if not completely lost. This is undesirable. A painting made without reliance on a mechanical device would call upon more of the powers of the artist. When this becomes general praxis, the powers of the artist strengthen. This is desirable.
5 Walter Benjamin, The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction, The Nineteenth Century Visual Culture Reader, (New York and London, Routledge Taylor and Francis Group, 2004)p. 66
6 Benjamin, 65
7 Neena Beber, “The Heat of the Moment,” American Theater, Nov. 2005, p.49
8 Beber, 49
9 Beber, 50
10 Even though I use Eric Fischl as an example of a worst-case scenario contemporary cyborg artist, I completely sympathize with him. Painting from photographs is truly much simpler than painting from life, especially if one cannot afford to hire models or find time for the hours necessary to make, and then synthesize, multiple drawings and studies into finished works. I speak from experience. For some of us, the temptation is then to not even draw from the photo, but to trace it, which for me is the most inexcusable kind of crime of which an artist can be guilty. It certainly saves time, but, I believe, it is tantamount to selling-out. For the full potential of the organically driven, self-sufficient artist, drawing is sacrosant. Ingres is known to have said: “Drawing is the probity of Art.”
11 Predictably, on the blogosphere, I have found blog after blog revealing just the kind of attitudes described above. Incredibly, I have even found at least two or three places where comments are made to the effect that it is only the neophyte of painting who feels strongly that photographs should not be used in painting. I am, first of all, completely insulted by that, and secondly greatly troubled by it because it reveals the extent to which, to my mind, painters have really ceased to think about what they do.
12 Hawker, Rosemary, “The Idiom in Photography As the Truth in Painting,” The South Atlantic Quarterly, Summer, 2002, p.543
13 Currie, Gregory, “Photography, Painting, and Perception,” The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, Winter91, Vol. 49 Issue 1, p.24
14 Even Victorian discussions drew parallels between the personal aspect of memory and vision. In her article “Painting Memory,” Kate Flint writes: “Strikingly, these two versions of memory---on the one hand physiological, on the other, subjective and personal---correspond to the two co-existing versions of vision… with their internal variables… the variations in vision which are produced by the optical differences to be found between different people’s eyes,and the subjectivity inherent in every act of processing one’s visual impressions.” Textual Practice, Winter, 2003, Vol. 17 Issue 3. p.530
15 Hawker, 547
16 Hawker, 551
17 The academies also used to place strong emphasis on training the memory of the artist. Le Coq de Boisbaudran taught in France in the mid 19th Century. His “The Training of the Memory in Art and the Education of the Artist” is a perfect example of this emphasis put on strengthening memory for better drawing.
18 In her article “What Can We Do With Photography?”(Art Monthly, Dec, 2007, Issue 312, p.1) Sarah James relates the gallery-going public’s shift from a feeling of being “gypped” by galleries holding only photographic exhibitions to being “…more comfortable with the photograph-and its artistic status-than it ever has been.” My interpretation of this remark is that the public likes to see art which reflects the hand of the artist, be it in painting or other media, and that, for a time at least, the mechanical aspect of photography did not satisfy. Now, however, with the public’s broader acceptance of photography in the realm of art, we are seeing a broader reception of the mechanical, the photoraph, over the organic, that is, the thing made by the hand of the artist, the organism.
I confess, that I almost always feel “gypped” in the presence of a photograph. When looking at images, I always prefer to see the organically produced work. This is completely personal and not a judgement of photography as an art form, and I am totally aware of arguments which could be made about photography qualifying as “organic,” though I will not address this here.
In the seventies and eighties, my childhood friends and I were acutely sensitive to the use of synthesizers, drum machines and samples in pop-music. They were not the “real thing.” Entire genres of music were dismissed by us because of this conviction. Often, I would turn on the radio, get excited about a favorite song just beginning, and then groan with disgust because it was actually the sampled original tacked-on to the beginning of, and used through, a piece of music by an altogether different artist. The postmodernist would validate this practice by calling it appropriation. For me, I felt “gypped.” In college, synthesizers which used samples of recorded acoustic instruments and then made them playable on an electronic keyboard were decried as sounding “canned.” In short, the organic original was replaced with a mechanical simulation. People felt “gypped.”
Bibliography:
Beeber, Neena. “The Heat of the Moment,” American Theater, November, 2005, Vol. 22 Issue 9: 48-52
Benjamin, Walter. “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction,” The Nineteenth Century Visual Culture Reader, Ed. Vanessa Schwartz and Przyblyski, Jeannene M. Routledge Taylor and Francis Group, NY and London, 2004, 63-70
Currie, Gregory. “Photography, Painting, and Perception,” The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, Winter91, Vol. 49 Issue 1: 23-29
Fischer, John. Review of “Photography and Philosophy: Essays on the Pencil of Nature,” Notre Dame Philosophical Reviews, http://ndpr.nd.edu/review.cfm?id=15286
Flint, Kate. “Painting Memory,” Textual Practice, Winter, 2003, Vol. 17 Issue 3: 527-542
Hawker, Rosemary. “The Idiom in Photography As the Truth in Painting,” The South Atlantic Quarterly, Summer, 2002: 541-554
James, Sarah. “What Can We Do With Photography?” Art Monthly, Dec, 2007, Issue 312: 1-4
Paper I, Semester III
Representing Politicism, Politicizing Representation
Cameron Bennett
During the question and answer session after MFA candidate Jason Lounds’ graduating talk, he was asked why his photographs, which involved the depiction of obviously heterosexual couples, did not represent any gay couples. His response was that the heterosexual experience was what he knew, and that was where he chose to focus. In other terms, the question opened up the issue of the representation of the Other in the work of art, a practice which many have attempted to show is inescapably ideological, political.
One might have noted the dominance of heterosexual couples in Lounds’ work and accused him of omission, of a kind of disavowal, of not representing a visible contingent of society. On the other hand, had Lounds chosen to depict gay couples in his work, others might have criticized him for being presumptuous, for attempting to represent an experience he himself could never really know, perhaps even for exoticizing the Other. One sees how easily a political aspect enters into artistic discourse, and one can see how inescapable these types of criticism are for the artist whose work is traditionally representational, as a photographer and a painter might be, and whose work then also represents society, as some photographers’ and painters’ work does. How relevant for me, then, a representational painter and a group 3 student studying the politics of representation in Critical Theory, to have witnessed Lounds’ exchange.
How is this relevant for me as a painter? First of all, I have a current fascination with signs and symbols, that is, one thing representing another, which has been a theme in my recent coursework. Secondly, as a portrait artist and illustrator, and even in my personal work, I have represented people of varying ethnicities, genders, and sexual orientations. My interest in the variety of humanity has always motivated me to include that variety in my painting. But with representation comes responsibility. Is my illustration of a black man playing harmonica in the street a representation of a stereotype? In my painting of a homeless Argentine man unconscious in a doorway, have I entered into a violation of sorts of this man’s integrity, identity, and yes, even though he was in plain sight of thousands of passers-by, perhaps even his privacy? Or have I actually fulfilled a kind of obligation to represent these types of people, these Others? Or on the other hand, who am I to presume to give voice to these people?
In an effort to paint representationally, but yet, sidestep these issues, I recently produced a body of work in which I alone was the model for every piece. If one sees the artist as a mediator, as a represent-er of the experience of life which includes all of us, then the act of mediation becomes immediately politicized. Perhaps with these works alone, the only mediation occurring is a self-mediation, one in which I am not presuming anything because I am only addressing, representing, and attempting to give voice to my own experience, the experience of the Same, and not presuming to represent the Other at all. Also, tempted as I was to include in the work signs and symbols from “exotic” cultures, I was responsible enough to use only those from my own culture.
Of further relevance to me is the question: is abstract painting (non-objective, non-iconic) the most responsible form of painting because it never presumes to represent anything other than itself? If so, this would seem to support the Greenbergian notion of the necessary self-referential aspect a work of art must have to be valid. It would also seem to be the reason behind the omission of black activist art in favor black abstract painting in Janson’s 1962 art history text, as outlined in Maurice Berger’s article “Race and Representation.” I feel, however, that the argument of omission could be applied to abstract painting just as easily as it could be to realist painting, and so the idea that there exists a form of painting more responsible than another form is, actually, a myth.
So, in focusing on the Same or Self in his work, was Jason Lounds being omissive in his work, or merely honest? As Hans Haacke has stated: “There is no non-ideological position,” that is, there is nothing presentable which can be entirely divorced from one’s culture, from mediation, and therefore, from a politicization. If this is true, if there is no escaping politics in the arts, then why can’t I just paint whatever I wish, including and excluding the Other whenever and as much as I please? I should be able to, with impunity, as long as I am doing so with responsibility and without presumption. So, was Lounds representing responsibly? Of course he was…a representational focus on the Self is never irresponsible, unless expectations exist prior to that representation which calls for the representing of a broader spectrum.
In conclusion, the readings from the group 3 Critical Theory course related to my work in so far as they dealt with representation, but specifically with representation of the Other, and also with the myth of the unmediated (un-culturally biased) representation, or image. These are sociological aspects of representation. There is, however, also a stylistic and formal aspect of representation which is equally relevant for me, but less discussed in the course. This is the question of the politics of representational painting itself: that just as representation of the Other can be politically loaded in any medium, it can be shown that painting itself can be just as loaded, based solely on how representational (naturalistic, perceptual, or realistic) or non-representational (abstract, non-objective, non-iconic) it is.
Because representation in art is absolutely inescapable (art is representation) and with it politics, I feel liberated from attempting to express at every turn a proper political stance through my art. Nevertheless, in any representation, I bear a responsibility to at least attempt to represent in as unbiased a way as possible, even though I can never escape my cultural bias entirely.
As Zhang Longxi writes in “The Myth of the Other: China in the Eyes of the West”:“…to know the Other is a process of Bildung, of learning and self-cultivation, which is neither projecting the Self onto the Other nor erasing the Self with what belongs to the Other.” Representing in this way in my own medium of paint, as I believe Lounds did through his medium of photography, I can represent as honestly as possible myself or the Other.
Endnotes:
Maurice Berger, “Race and Representation,” How Art Becomes History, New York: IconEditions, 1992. p.86
Robert Morgan, “Interview With Hans Haacke,” Artists, Critics, Context, Readings in and Around American Art Since 1945, Ed. Paul Fabozzi, (Prentice Hall)2002, p. 309
Zhang Longxi, “The Myth of the Other: China in the Eyes of the West,” Critical Inquiry, Autumn, 1988, p.131
Bibliography:
Berger, Maurice.“Race and Representation,”How Art Becomes History. New York: IconEditions, 1992.
Longxi, Zhang. “The Myth of the Other: China in the Eyes of the West,” Critical Inquiry, Autumn, 1988: 108-131.
Owens, Craig. “The Discourse of Others: Feminists and Postmodernism.” The Anti-Aesthetic: Essays on Postmodern Culture. Ed. Hal Foster. New York: New Press: W.W. Norton, 1998. 65-88
Solomon-Godeau, Abigail.“Going Native.” Art in America, July, 1999: 119-130.
Benjamin, Roger. “Matisse in Morocco: A Colonizing Esthetic?” Art in America, November, 1990: 156-211.
Cameron Bennett
During the question and answer session after MFA candidate Jason Lounds’ graduating talk, he was asked why his photographs, which involved the depiction of obviously heterosexual couples, did not represent any gay couples. His response was that the heterosexual experience was what he knew, and that was where he chose to focus. In other terms, the question opened up the issue of the representation of the Other in the work of art, a practice which many have attempted to show is inescapably ideological, political.
One might have noted the dominance of heterosexual couples in Lounds’ work and accused him of omission, of a kind of disavowal, of not representing a visible contingent of society. On the other hand, had Lounds chosen to depict gay couples in his work, others might have criticized him for being presumptuous, for attempting to represent an experience he himself could never really know, perhaps even for exoticizing the Other. One sees how easily a political aspect enters into artistic discourse, and one can see how inescapable these types of criticism are for the artist whose work is traditionally representational, as a photographer and a painter might be, and whose work then also represents society, as some photographers’ and painters’ work does. How relevant for me, then, a representational painter and a group 3 student studying the politics of representation in Critical Theory, to have witnessed Lounds’ exchange.
How is this relevant for me as a painter? First of all, I have a current fascination with signs and symbols, that is, one thing representing another, which has been a theme in my recent coursework. Secondly, as a portrait artist and illustrator, and even in my personal work, I have represented people of varying ethnicities, genders, and sexual orientations. My interest in the variety of humanity has always motivated me to include that variety in my painting. But with representation comes responsibility. Is my illustration of a black man playing harmonica in the street a representation of a stereotype? In my painting of a homeless Argentine man unconscious in a doorway, have I entered into a violation of sorts of this man’s integrity, identity, and yes, even though he was in plain sight of thousands of passers-by, perhaps even his privacy? Or have I actually fulfilled a kind of obligation to represent these types of people, these Others? Or on the other hand, who am I to presume to give voice to these people?
In an effort to paint representationally, but yet, sidestep these issues, I recently produced a body of work in which I alone was the model for every piece. If one sees the artist as a mediator, as a represent-er of the experience of life which includes all of us, then the act of mediation becomes immediately politicized. Perhaps with these works alone, the only mediation occurring is a self-mediation, one in which I am not presuming anything because I am only addressing, representing, and attempting to give voice to my own experience, the experience of the Same, and not presuming to represent the Other at all. Also, tempted as I was to include in the work signs and symbols from “exotic” cultures, I was responsible enough to use only those from my own culture.
Of further relevance to me is the question: is abstract painting (non-objective, non-iconic) the most responsible form of painting because it never presumes to represent anything other than itself? If so, this would seem to support the Greenbergian notion of the necessary self-referential aspect a work of art must have to be valid. It would also seem to be the reason behind the omission of black activist art in favor black abstract painting in Janson’s 1962 art history text, as outlined in Maurice Berger’s article “Race and Representation.” I feel, however, that the argument of omission could be applied to abstract painting just as easily as it could be to realist painting, and so the idea that there exists a form of painting more responsible than another form is, actually, a myth.
So, in focusing on the Same or Self in his work, was Jason Lounds being omissive in his work, or merely honest? As Hans Haacke has stated: “There is no non-ideological position,” that is, there is nothing presentable which can be entirely divorced from one’s culture, from mediation, and therefore, from a politicization. If this is true, if there is no escaping politics in the arts, then why can’t I just paint whatever I wish, including and excluding the Other whenever and as much as I please? I should be able to, with impunity, as long as I am doing so with responsibility and without presumption. So, was Lounds representing responsibly? Of course he was…a representational focus on the Self is never irresponsible, unless expectations exist prior to that representation which calls for the representing of a broader spectrum.
In conclusion, the readings from the group 3 Critical Theory course related to my work in so far as they dealt with representation, but specifically with representation of the Other, and also with the myth of the unmediated (un-culturally biased) representation, or image. These are sociological aspects of representation. There is, however, also a stylistic and formal aspect of representation which is equally relevant for me, but less discussed in the course. This is the question of the politics of representational painting itself: that just as representation of the Other can be politically loaded in any medium, it can be shown that painting itself can be just as loaded, based solely on how representational (naturalistic, perceptual, or realistic) or non-representational (abstract, non-objective, non-iconic) it is.
Because representation in art is absolutely inescapable (art is representation) and with it politics, I feel liberated from attempting to express at every turn a proper political stance through my art. Nevertheless, in any representation, I bear a responsibility to at least attempt to represent in as unbiased a way as possible, even though I can never escape my cultural bias entirely.
As Zhang Longxi writes in “The Myth of the Other: China in the Eyes of the West”:“…to know the Other is a process of Bildung, of learning and self-cultivation, which is neither projecting the Self onto the Other nor erasing the Self with what belongs to the Other.” Representing in this way in my own medium of paint, as I believe Lounds did through his medium of photography, I can represent as honestly as possible myself or the Other.
Endnotes:
Maurice Berger, “Race and Representation,” How Art Becomes History, New York: IconEditions, 1992. p.86
Robert Morgan, “Interview With Hans Haacke,” Artists, Critics, Context, Readings in and Around American Art Since 1945, Ed. Paul Fabozzi, (Prentice Hall)2002, p. 309
Zhang Longxi, “The Myth of the Other: China in the Eyes of the West,” Critical Inquiry, Autumn, 1988, p.131
Bibliography:
Berger, Maurice.“Race and Representation,”How Art Becomes History. New York: IconEditions, 1992.
Longxi, Zhang. “The Myth of the Other: China in the Eyes of the West,” Critical Inquiry, Autumn, 1988: 108-131.
Owens, Craig. “The Discourse of Others: Feminists and Postmodernism.” The Anti-Aesthetic: Essays on Postmodern Culture. Ed. Hal Foster. New York: New Press: W.W. Norton, 1998. 65-88
Solomon-Godeau, Abigail.“Going Native.” Art in America, July, 1999: 119-130.
Benjamin, Roger. “Matisse in Morocco: A Colonizing Esthetic?” Art in America, November, 1990: 156-211.
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