So this quarter, I've had the mixed blessing and burden of being in a seminar called “The Creative Process in Studio Art”. The seminar has been a little bit of a burden because while it is only worth two units, the workload has been greater than its units would suggest. At the same time, however, the class has brought me numerous opportunities to interact with ideas and concepts that I've never encountered, and if nothing else, gave me a chance to visit some pretty legit museums.
Our focus during the course was largely on modern art. If you're like me, the phrase modern art will bring feelings of skepticism and suspicion. Can these people really justify this as art? Does this actually take any skill? He sold that toilet seat for how much?
For me, these are indeed the thoughts that accompany my ears' reception of the phrase “modern art”. Or at least it was before taking this seminar.
I still have rather ambivalent feelings about a lot of the stuff that gets classified as modern art, but this class did legitimately change the way I see much of it.
The change in my feelings is especially notable because it occurred without my realizing it at first.
For me, these are indeed the thoughts that accompany my ears' reception of the phrase “modern art”. Or at least it was before taking this seminar.
I still have rather ambivalent feelings about a lot of the stuff that gets classified as modern art, but this class did legitimately change the way I see much of it.
The change in my feelings is especially notable because it occurred without my realizing it at first.
A bit of downtown SF outside the MoMA.
The first main event of the seminar was a field trip to the Museum of Modern Art in San Francisco, a significant museum by almost any standard. As I went through the museum, my defenses were fairly high. The artworks were pretty much guilty until proven innocent by my judgment, but I did try to give every piece I saw a fair chance to earn my interest. Some remained uninteresting. This is the ultimate failure of an artwork by my standards. Even a work that evokes emotions of complete disgust can be quite successful if that's what the artist was aiming to create for the viewer. But a piece that leaves the viewer indifferent has done nothing to justify its creation (Revelation 3:16, anyone?).
Jean Arp's 'Concretion humaine sans coupe'.
Anyway, while some pieces were not interesting to me, some were. And some that weren't interesting at first became fascinating upon further inspection. One of my favorite pieces that I encountered at the MoMA was a sculpture by Jean Arp, who lived from 1886-1966. This was one of those pieces that seemed uninspiring at first. As I approached the bronze sculpture, I felt like I was looking at it from the wrong angle, so I went around to the other side. As I moved around it, it seemed like each side presented a shape that changed the dynamic of the whole thing. I kept moving around it, but I could not find a view that allowed me to feel like I was taking in the whole piece at once. In this way, the sculpture brought me a feeling of discontent that is difficult to describe (the picture really doesn't capture the phenomena I experienced). I walked around the piece for probably three minutes until I finally gave up on finding the view that would best enable me to digest the piece as a whole.
But I realized that this made it a very significant work. This feeling is something that would be extremely difficult to create for a viewer on command. Even if this piece's shape was completely random (as one is tempted to conclude), it was able to evoke in me a feeling that I can't even rightly put into words.
But I realized that this made it a very significant work. This feeling is something that would be extremely difficult to create for a viewer on command. Even if this piece's shape was completely random (as one is tempted to conclude), it was able to evoke in me a feeling that I can't even rightly put into words.
Georges Braque's 'Vase, palette, et mandoline'.
So that was one experience that kind of sums up a number of similar experiences that punctuated the visit to the museum. And of course, one can't view works by the likes of Picasso, Matisse, Braque, Magritte, and other eminent artists without being overcome by a sense of historic significance.
Over the course of the ensuing weeks, we viewed a series of PBS documentaries called Art 21, which document the works and inspirations of various modern artists of the 21st century. The films showed some of the greatest crackpots I've ever seen, people whose jobs seem to be supported by a simple overabundance of wealth in certain circles of rich people. But of course, other artists seemed more well founded and legitimate. Long story short, I had a pretty long series of exposures to the modern art culture before the next museum visit a month and a half later.
The next visit was to the Crocker museum in Sacramento. This museum had a more diverse selection, with the first floor devoted to modern art, and the second floor reserved for older pieces collected by the Crocker family. I reacted to the first floor of the museum much like I had reacted to the MoMA, remaining rather skeptical (with the exception of a couple of pieces that were simply astonishing, such as Stephen Kaltenbach's "Portrait of My Father", featured below).
Stephen Kaltenbach's 'Portrait of my father'. This epic 14'x9' acrylic on canvas took the artist seven years to paint in a countryside barn. The work was almost a sort of meditation for him as he recreated this mental snapshot of his father on his deathbed in the years following his father's death. The full impact of the painting is incomplete without a close up view (below), which shows the broad strokes of color that give the painting a cosmic feeling, as well as the tiny details that give each wrinkle and strand of hair its own careful shading.
It was when I reached the second floor of the museum that I received the greatest surprise of the entire seminar, because it was there that I encountered more traditional pieces for the first time since starting the seminar. The feeling that hit me as I walked the halls of landscape and still life paintings was one of emptiness. Certainly, the walls contained a token few paintings that were breathtaking simply for their technical difficulty, but for the most part, the paintings felt devoid of meaning. Produced simply to “look nice”. Now I'm not saying there's not a place for such works, but as I perused the traditional paintings, I couldn't help but miss the comparative depth and complexity contained within the modern art I had been skeptically approaching.
Looks great, but what's it about? (Check out Celia's comment below)
Thus, it came as a surprise to myself that observing traditional art turned out to be how I came to a greater appreciation of modern art. Because while at times modern art has its own feeling of emptiness in the secular pursuit of meaning, it at least has a clear intention to reach beyond the simple intention of decorating a wall, and exists to grasp at something outside what we normally think about.
Before I wrap up this post, I have to talk about the last stop that we made as a class, which was a trip to the home studio of a guy named Dave Lane.
Before I wrap up this post, I have to talk about the last stop that we made as a class, which was a trip to the home studio of a guy named Dave Lane.
He may be the most eccentric person I've ever met. We pulled up to the house, and he was sitting on the steps of the porch, apparently awaiting our arrival. He seemed like he was probably about fifty-five years old, and he wore a light sweater and loose-fitting slacks.
A mini planet mover.
When beginning a discussion of Dave Lane, it is almost necessary to enter into another universe—an alternate reality of sorts. His is a world characterized by whimsical and strange machines that carry out the physical laws of the universe. Planet movers, star makers, and devices for creating twilight were all among the creations I witnessed in his backyard workshop. And these devices are constructed at massive size, as the pictures below display. To create these machines, he uses piles of old farm equipment, factory parts, and all manner of metal parts predating the 1960s.
He discussed these creations as if they were really created to live up to their names.
He discussed these creations as if they were really created to live up to their names.
The lower part of the 'Device for Creating Twlilight'.
“See, what you do here is just move this lever, and that operates the pump to push the light through,” he explained as he showcased his “Device for Creating Twilight”. The thing is, he never actually introduced us to the universe in which his art takes place. He simply rattled on about the different functions of his devices, and I suppose he expected us to pick up on the idea of the theme of his art. But it certainly could have sounded like he was simply insane. I'm pretty sure he's not though.
Equally intriguing were his so called "thought maps", visual representations of his patterns of thought, which link dozens of little ideas all together into a single “map”. Looking at the maps was an incredible window into his mind, and helped explain his eccentricity. Most of the maps were just on paper, but several made it into three dimensions, sometimes being transferred chaotically onto globes, which were placed on miniature planet movers. In this way, it felt like there was some overarching connection between his thought maps and his interstellar physics machines, but I still haven't been able to articulate that connection.
Another thing worth noting is that he does all of this simply out of a need to express himself. He has a day job working for the state as an engineer managing water supplies. He simply does art as he is financially able, and occasionally gets commissioned to do a public work. He has won multiple state fairs, but you can tell that that's not why he does it. He really just loves to create and think, and try to convey his ideas to others through art.
Overall, the visit to his home studio is probably better illustrated than described, so here are some pictures to give a better idea of what it was like.
Overall, the visit to his home studio is probably better illustrated than described, so here are some pictures to give a better idea of what it was like.
So together, all these things have constituted the highlights of my experience in my art seminar this quarter. I certainly encountered new ideas and gained fresh perspective. I'm still pretty reserved toward modern art, but I have definitely gained a new appreciation for it, and have found that much of it can be very worthwhile when given enough consideration.