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chanticoThe decision to work in a non-representational style for my latest project (or one of many, really) came out of a lot of churning over what makes, well, Art. Which is a ridiculously large and unspecific question, so framing it as it relates to my life: can illustration be Art? Can fantastic art be Art? And what, really, separates the wheat from the chaff?
My answers for the first two have always been yes and yes, but those have been knee-jerk, instinctual responses and that doesn't cut it for me these days. Being educated in a very rigid fine arts environment, my arguments focused more on using historical examples both modern (Mucha, Rockwell) and classical (most of the great masters, illustration scenes from mythology and the Bible) to show that, clearly, dismissing illustration as a field salted by commercialization was a presumptuous mistake based in ill-educated snobbery. I required wearing the mask of the snob myself to argue the academic record, and that worked often enough that I never actually had to define what it was about those masters that elevated them from commercial illustrators to adored artists. Alas, because I never defined that, I've hit a wall in my own work. So now I have to ask my third question-- in the spirit of intellectual and artistic honesty, at least.
Staring to think of it, I come up with technique. Is it just the skill with which a scene and an idea can be rendered? Because that's what I've been working on for *years*, laboring under the belief that if I can just render skillfully enough, I'll find *it*. I don't really believe this is the case anymore, the further I study; certainly my work could use a lot more technical ability, but I'm getting to the stage where I can clearly convey what I wish, and the spark still isn't present. Plus, spending a lot of time in the gaming art world, I routinely see pieces that are very sound and beautiful in their draftsmanship and still very, very boring. I mean, don't get me wrong-- great technique certainly makes it *easier*. But it isn't the answer.
So if it ain't technique (at least in full), then what about symbolism?
See, this is one of the ones I bristled at a lot in art school-- it seemed to me that people dismissed the symbolism of the fantastic out of hand. Does your painting have an elf? Then it isn't art. Hackles, this raised them. And there *is* an incredible amount of that in the art world, like I said; I remember one thread in particular on an art blog I stumbled across that showcased the best Speculative Art out there, and the replies, while not universally negative, were certainly not gushing. The paintings were exquisite in both technique and concept, but because of the symbolism used (robots, swords, faeries) they were greeted with upturned noses.
But then, maybe those commenters weren't complete idiots. Those images and objects, those airships and barbarians and zombies, each one of them *means something*. They are symbolic shorthand for a slew of archtypical data, and depending on your background, the read of that data is going to be different. A robot means more to me than them, because I have the cultural background to make sense of the symbol and place it within a larger context. The examination of the relationship between viewer and work is so *very* Fine Art, but most of them don't see it that way. They look at a dragon and the data they receive isn't "Power. Grace. The exaltation of imagination over the mundane", it is "Silly, childish, shallow, cheap." So does it all come down to what I'll classify as Taste, then? Are your personal tastes all that separates the great from the dreck?
I think that's closer, but I can't accept it as the end all be all, either. It is certainly a big factor among consumers, and dilettantes-- man, I don't mean that to be snobby, I just cannot think of a different word for "people who dabble in art but have not spent years in contemplation and experimentation") There are plenty of artists out there that I don't *like*, but I still recognize have done great goddamn work. Rothko, for example. And I think a lot of other artists are willing to reach across the isle to the fantastic when they seem something really incredibly touching, depending on the movement. I don't think I'll find much common ground with artists who believe that the use of *any* symbolism makes art kitschy (and that is an argument for another day), but those who recognize the use of it, sure.
All right: what is illustration, at it's base? Storytelling. Accessible delivery of an idea-- emphasis on the accessible part. This is where a lot of the frisson takes place, I suppose: there are those who believe that if art is accessible to the populace, it ain't Art. *That* is the attitude I cannot stand, as I think it has its roots firmly in classism, and I dismiss it as having validity in my questioning. I do not believe that the use of symbolism to communicate an idea is, at it's base, bad. I don't think technique is the vehicle of greatness. I think both of these things are *tools*, tools to be used in the creation of something great.
Which leaves one thing, really. Doing something different. Doing something that not only touches something in someone, but uses the tools of technique and symbolism and storytelling to tell a story we haven't heard before. I mean, what that is will depend a lot on who is looking at the piece, and the line between original use of established visual mythology and Oh Look, Another Vampire is a very fine one indeed, but at it's core, I think that is what defines a great piece of art: when someone looks at your image, and feels WONDER. The wonder of something previously unseen, whether or not is uses the dressing of the fantastic or the mundane or the abstract, even if it is only the slightest variation on another piece or concept. That? That I think holds true with art of *any* form: dance, writing, ceramics, music, painting.
This makes me job a lot harder, dammit. Because now that this feels right, I can't very well as sit there and paint yet another clockwork man just because I know it will sell and feel satisfied with myself because the anatomy is good. I am just NOT content with that. So. There is now a HELL of a lot more sitting and thinking work I put into these things. Let's see if it pays off in the end, shall we?
My answers for the first two have always been yes and yes, but those have been knee-jerk, instinctual responses and that doesn't cut it for me these days. Being educated in a very rigid fine arts environment, my arguments focused more on using historical examples both modern (Mucha, Rockwell) and classical (most of the great masters, illustration scenes from mythology and the Bible) to show that, clearly, dismissing illustration as a field salted by commercialization was a presumptuous mistake based in ill-educated snobbery. I required wearing the mask of the snob myself to argue the academic record, and that worked often enough that I never actually had to define what it was about those masters that elevated them from commercial illustrators to adored artists. Alas, because I never defined that, I've hit a wall in my own work. So now I have to ask my third question-- in the spirit of intellectual and artistic honesty, at least.
Staring to think of it, I come up with technique. Is it just the skill with which a scene and an idea can be rendered? Because that's what I've been working on for *years*, laboring under the belief that if I can just render skillfully enough, I'll find *it*. I don't really believe this is the case anymore, the further I study; certainly my work could use a lot more technical ability, but I'm getting to the stage where I can clearly convey what I wish, and the spark still isn't present. Plus, spending a lot of time in the gaming art world, I routinely see pieces that are very sound and beautiful in their draftsmanship and still very, very boring. I mean, don't get me wrong-- great technique certainly makes it *easier*. But it isn't the answer.
So if it ain't technique (at least in full), then what about symbolism?
See, this is one of the ones I bristled at a lot in art school-- it seemed to me that people dismissed the symbolism of the fantastic out of hand. Does your painting have an elf? Then it isn't art. Hackles, this raised them. And there *is* an incredible amount of that in the art world, like I said; I remember one thread in particular on an art blog I stumbled across that showcased the best Speculative Art out there, and the replies, while not universally negative, were certainly not gushing. The paintings were exquisite in both technique and concept, but because of the symbolism used (robots, swords, faeries) they were greeted with upturned noses.
But then, maybe those commenters weren't complete idiots. Those images and objects, those airships and barbarians and zombies, each one of them *means something*. They are symbolic shorthand for a slew of archtypical data, and depending on your background, the read of that data is going to be different. A robot means more to me than them, because I have the cultural background to make sense of the symbol and place it within a larger context. The examination of the relationship between viewer and work is so *very* Fine Art, but most of them don't see it that way. They look at a dragon and the data they receive isn't "Power. Grace. The exaltation of imagination over the mundane", it is "Silly, childish, shallow, cheap." So does it all come down to what I'll classify as Taste, then? Are your personal tastes all that separates the great from the dreck?
I think that's closer, but I can't accept it as the end all be all, either. It is certainly a big factor among consumers, and dilettantes-- man, I don't mean that to be snobby, I just cannot think of a different word for "people who dabble in art but have not spent years in contemplation and experimentation") There are plenty of artists out there that I don't *like*, but I still recognize have done great goddamn work. Rothko, for example. And I think a lot of other artists are willing to reach across the isle to the fantastic when they seem something really incredibly touching, depending on the movement. I don't think I'll find much common ground with artists who believe that the use of *any* symbolism makes art kitschy (and that is an argument for another day), but those who recognize the use of it, sure.
All right: what is illustration, at it's base? Storytelling. Accessible delivery of an idea-- emphasis on the accessible part. This is where a lot of the frisson takes place, I suppose: there are those who believe that if art is accessible to the populace, it ain't Art. *That* is the attitude I cannot stand, as I think it has its roots firmly in classism, and I dismiss it as having validity in my questioning. I do not believe that the use of symbolism to communicate an idea is, at it's base, bad. I don't think technique is the vehicle of greatness. I think both of these things are *tools*, tools to be used in the creation of something great.
Which leaves one thing, really. Doing something different. Doing something that not only touches something in someone, but uses the tools of technique and symbolism and storytelling to tell a story we haven't heard before. I mean, what that is will depend a lot on who is looking at the piece, and the line between original use of established visual mythology and Oh Look, Another Vampire is a very fine one indeed, but at it's core, I think that is what defines a great piece of art: when someone looks at your image, and feels WONDER. The wonder of something previously unseen, whether or not is uses the dressing of the fantastic or the mundane or the abstract, even if it is only the slightest variation on another piece or concept. That? That I think holds true with art of *any* form: dance, writing, ceramics, music, painting.
This makes me job a lot harder, dammit. Because now that this feels right, I can't very well as sit there and paint yet another clockwork man just because I know it will sell and feel satisfied with myself because the anatomy is good. I am just NOT content with that. So. There is now a HELL of a lot more sitting and thinking work I put into these things. Let's see if it pays off in the end, shall we?
