"Don't Try to Understand an Artist" Sarasota Visual Art June 2012

Don’t Try to Understand an Artist by Pamela Beck

by Pamela Beck

I went with a friend to a local gallery where one of the featured artists was present. My friend liked a drawing and asked the artist: “What was your inspiration while you drew this?”

“I was in the zone,” the artist replied. “But I think a lot about John Coltrane and Jean-Michel Basquiat.”

My friend felt confused. Unfortunately, he wanted the artist to make sense; Do you, too, labor under the illusion that artists can explain the precise source of their “inspiration?” Then you also must think people know what you’re talking about when you describe your nighttime dreams.

We often hear artists discuss their work. But the reasons for the compulsion to make it, where that comes from and what will result, are as mysterious to artists, as the origins of our dreams are to ourselves (although both come from the same fertile place.)

Jean-Michel Basquiat, In Italian, 1983. Acrylic, oil paintstick, and marker on canvas mounted on wood supports, two panels. The Stephanie and Peter Brant Foundation, Greenwich, Connecticut

Here’s what some artists have to say on the subject:

Jean-Michel Basquiat: I start a picture and I finish it. I don’t think about art while I work. I try to think about life.

Helen Frankenthaler: There is “no formula. There are no rules. Let the picture lead you where it must go.”

Henri Matisse: I do not literally paint that table, but the emotion it produces upon me.

John Chamberlain (from an interview with Joan Altabe): All who don’t do something peculiar to their own insanity fall on their face. I feel I have an attitude and it’s being explored. The more places I can put that attitude, the more places it comes out. It’s my insanity that I’m letting out.

I dare you to describe that “insanity.” Then I double dare you to stop trying. After all, there’s a simpler way to understand artists, their work and “the zone.” Consider Jackson Pollock’s approach to defining artists and their art: “Every good painter paints what he is.”

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"A Contemporary Art Story: Artists and Collectors" For Sarasota Visual Art June 13, 2012

A Contemporary Art Story: Artists and Collectors by Pamela Beck

by Pamela Beck

I’ve known of friendships between collectors and the artists they collect, where everything is simpatico. There’s a meeting of the minds whenever they talk and the collectors get first dibs on the artists’ new work.

But that’s not the tale of this reporter, no. More often what I’ve seen resembles the ongoing turf war between mothers and teenage daughters. Here’s a peek into these rich and often adversarial-by-nature territories.

It starts out:
“I’m interested in your new work and can’t wait to see it, “ says the collector to the artist. (”I’m excited that you found a college you like and hope you get accepted,” says the mother to the daughter.)
That turns into: “When are you finally going to finish that new work?” (“When did you say that admission application deadline is?”)
And ends up: “I can’t believe it’s taking you so long; how hard can it be to complete? (“I can’t believe it’s taking you so long; how hard can it be to complete?”)

In any relationship where somebody wants something from you, you’re probably going to resent being told how quickly to do it. And whether it’s an artist or teenager pressed into service, the response is likely to be a major eye roll coupled with colorful unprintable responses that signal “don’t push me.”

Norman Rockwell, "The Connoisseur", 1962 The Saturday Evening Post, January 13, 1962 (cover) Oil on canvas mounted on board 37 3/4 x 31 1/2 in. Private collection

In the case of an artwork, a personal, complicated act of unique invention has occurred that can’t be punched out on a time sheet for an impatient collector. (The teenager parallel stops here, however. If you’re reading this high school seniors, punch the damn timesheet; the admissions office could care less about your aversion to deadlines.)

When the artwork is finally done, the artist and collector meet again. They exchange pleasantries, but their true heated feelings float above their heads like visible thought bubbles. The collector expects the artist to miraculously distill the abstract process of creation into explanations that will enlighten the collector and rationalize the purchase of this long awaited work of art.

But by this time, the artist, protective of the art and irritated by the collector, would rather donate the work to an overseas children’s orphanage or at least, find a more sophisticated collector. The collector, at this point, often feels the artist is acting entitled or suffers from delusions of grandeur. And what’s more, the collector thinks, the artist should take less money. After all, the artist gets to paint all day, and in comfortable clothes too. What’s to complain about?

But then, they both eye the artwork. The artist sees that the collector really does like it and can buy it on the spot. The collector sees the artist may have a Napoleon complex but the work is really good, so who cares? The artwork wins. It gets sold and all is good until the next round begins again.

Mothers and teens, artists and collectors, this is their story: inextricably connected, eternally annoyed.

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"Start the Conversation" for Sarasota Visual Art, May 2012

Start the Conversation by Pamela Beck

by Pamela Beck

Recently I was at a Sarasota party where a group of older art collectors discussed several art events of this past season. Talk included “Beyond Bling,” the Ringling Museum’s show of hip-hop inspired art; street artist MTO’s “Fast Life,” the now whitewashed wall mural that caused a public uproar; S/aRt/Q’s “Voyeur,” an exploration of observation and art through a peephole; and exhibitions at the new Clothesline Gallery.

Of course there were fans and foes of each. Some got kudos for talent and originality; others, thumbs down for technique and “attitude.” Attitude? Yes, that was the word used. Predictably, the age divide was at play here.

This “attitude” label sparked a lively conversation. We discussed how artists use their work to respond to and interpret their private lives; but like the rest of us, they can’t help being impacted by the world at large through the unavoidable exposure to an abundance of constant information.

Seen from the perspective that contemporary art is not only personal but also reflects our shared time in history, some people began to reconsider the “them/us” they unknowingly constructed with artists they disliked. Furthering this thought, the concept that today’s art is tomorrow’s artifact is provocative.

Talk drifted to ideas rather than opinions. We considered how you might not like a particular work but your reactions are valuable for what they reveal about yourself, the artist and our culture. This led to a discussion about the importance of looking at all kinds of new work for both personal satisfaction and as a firsthand way to participate in our current evolving world.

All this resulted from a conversation about a couple of artists with “attitude” problems. Good thing; otherwise it might have been a short night.

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Art or Artist for Sale?

Years ago I spent an hour in the basement of a N.Y. gallery where I worked, during the opening night of a one-man exhibition taking place upstairs.

It was a glitterati affair: major collectors mingled with artists, and that period’s foremost art critic, Hilton Kramer of the N.Y. Times, had arrived to review the show of this up and coming painter. His words, read by countless people across the world, could change an artist’s career. The gallery owner wanted Kramer to meet the artist. There was just one problem: the artist, who had arrived earlier, could no longer be found.

That’s because he was hiding in the basement.  I discovered him sitting in one the rectangular painting bins, stacked with the stored artworks like a painting for sale himself.

Therein lay his conflict he confided.  Shouldn’t the artwork upstairs stand on its’ own?  The review should be in response to his art not his charm. This was a point of pride.  He was not for sale.

Meeting Kramer would also be too big for him, he disclosed. We discussed how rare it is to be aware that a present moment could profoundly alter your life, rather than realizing it in retrospect.  In addition, he felt to be there at that moment’s inception would toy with the proper order of things, like when humans step into nature to save one species from another.

He stayed in the bin. I sat on the floor next to him until I knew Kramer had gone. Then we went upstairs. “Where have you been? You just missed Hilton Kramer! It’s too late now,” people shouted.

The review came out.  The artist’s show went on to be a success. “It was right for me to be a painting that night,” he said to me as we were taking his show down. “Yeah,  I replied. "Good call."

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"Connection" for Sarasota Visual Art, May 2012

Connection – 300 Words by Pamela Beck

by Pamela Beck

Every time I stand in front of the elegant black forms in a Robert Motherwell painting from his “Elegy to the Spanish Republic” series, I feel it. And I feel it when I look at the pulsing spirituality of a Mark Rothko canvas, or the flat color planes of poetry from Richard Diebenkorn’s “Ocean Park Series,” or the perfect round beauty of a nude by Aristide Maillol or the intriguing psychologically charged work of Francis Bacon and Egon Schiele.

What I feel is a visceral response, a connection forged between the artists and myself based on my reaction to their work. It has little to do with right and wrong and more to do with yes or no. I bet we all have that moment when we look at a work of art before those critical “outside voices” start to crowd in.

It seems so simple; we all have feelings about the art we see. Yet comfort with our own reactions to it often seems elusive. It’s replaced with the idea of what we should like and insecurity about looking foolish.

I’m not rejecting the importance of art education. We’re hardwired for curiosity, exploration and classification. It’s natural and relevant to see art within historical and contemporary contexts. It’s interesting to understand different techniques and fascinating to talk with artists about their own work. But it doesn’t have much to do with whether I’m moved by the artwork or if it stays with me once I’ve left it.

Experiencing art trumps the explanation of it. If we allow ourselves to have unscripted responses to the work before us, we actually become part of the creative process ourselves and that’s when the good stuff starts happening. That exchange, based on our own reactions, becomes its own reward. And that’s when we feel it.

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Interview with artist Jake Fernandez, Sarasota Visual Art 5/16/12

Featured Artist: Jake Fernandez

Jake Fernandez graduated from the University of Florida and received his Masters of Fine Arts from the University of South Florida. He is known for creating complex pictorial structures through the observation of light and space. His works are in numerous public and private collections. He is represented by ACA Galleries in New York City. Interview conducted by Pamela Beck.

Conservatory 1, pastel on paper, 24in x 72in , copyright Jake Fernandez 2012

How does working in a technology-fueled world differ from when you were working in the seventies?

In the seventies I was very interested in the NASA photos of the lunar terrain with its hash marks and lined grids. At the time, I had the contrarian idea of “constructing” a painting from individual fragments to a complete composition, rather than the traditional general to specific method of covering the entire picture plane and refining the image until finished. I thought the “tiling” of colors or seeing digitally, made more sense. Image making technologies in the last thirty years are generally based on this concept.

There’s no question that technological advances have always influenced artists. Many early 20th century artists, like Leger or Sheeler, celebrated the machine by painting them as a glorified subject. But I’m interested in the machine’s process, its modus operandi that traces and reveals its own internal bias. I often mimic the repetitive actions of machines when I work, in order to find my own bias or “fingerprint.”

Jake Fernandez, Studio with works in progress

Who has been of great influence to you and your work?

My earliest and most profound influence came from a man named Osmin Perez (aka Andoba.) He worked for my grandmother in Cuba, where I’m from. He was a gardener by day and a timbalero (musician that plays the timbales) by night. He was humble and uneducated but possessed the powers of a shaman. In addition to being a gifted percussionist, he could communicate with animals, and foretell future events with uncanny accuracy. As a young child Andoba taught me by example the limitations of logic, but more importantly how to live in a magical world of one’s own making, which I think is essential for an artist.

Hidden Mandala , 96in x 96in oil on wood, copyright Jake Fernandez 2011 (2)

How do you create the 3D quality of your work in paintings like “Myakka Fork” and “Hidden Mandala?”

Most of my paintings have a bas-relief component. By including this shallow three- dimensional surface, a kind of visual shift is produced resulting in a more dynamic visual experience. I build the surfaces (bas-relief) by attaching pieces of wood or building up the surface with plaster. I work each layer independently.
By isolating each pass and concentrating on a singular step at a time I’m able to go into a meditative trance that makes the work more automatic than calculated. The overall geometric patterns of the painting are pre-set but what happens between those parameters is more automatic and intuitive than calculated.

Perpetual Frieze, Houston Street Frieze, Section 1, photo collage, 9.5in x 25.5in, copyright Jake Fernandez 2012

Where did the idea for your photo collage, “The Perpetual Frieze”, come from?

I think the photo-collages were born out of necessity. I worked for years in a basement on Bond St. in NYC and my closest access to nature was a community “garden” on nearby Houston St. and the Bowery. I would photo-document this blighted area, take the photos back to the studio cut and re-assemble the photo fragments into a new configuration.

Perpetual Frieze, Houston St, Detail K, photo collage, copyright Jake Fernandez 2012

I found it intriguing that the same photos taken from a decaying urban landscape could be transformed into a lyrical scene by simply relying on my imagination to rearrange the mosaic-like fragments. “The Perpetual Frieze” based on that garden, was started in 1984 and I continue to intermittently add pieces to this day. The piece now measures over 9” x 25 ft in length.

Are their particular themes or ideas that inspire your work?

Inspiration is a concept that I find totally mysterious. In my case it is completely unpredictable. I know not what triggers it.

What are you working on now?

I am currently working on two commissions along with my ‘Trie Garden Project”, which is a series of paintings based on the medieval garden at The Cloisters in NY.

From the Bridge, pastel on paper 20in x 27in, copyright Jake Fernandez 2011

What would be your fantasy exhibition space, a place that feels most in sync with what your work is expressing?

In reality, I am actually planning to install the “Trie Garden Project” in Frank Gehry’s “Upper Room”, which is on the top floor of a building he designed for the St. Monica Church in Santa Monica, California, next year. It’s about thirty-five feet in diameter with curved walls, a domed ceiling and a circular skylight. To me this really is a fantasy come true.

But if the Rothko paintings are ever moved out of the Rothko Chapel …now that would be something.

What do you see as the role of the artist in society today?

To be a shining example of survival against all odds.

What aspects of the contemporary art world would you change if you could?

I would like to see things that are truly extraordinary and less derivative.

Imaginary Shoreline(Surf), oil on linen, 33in x 96in, ©Jake Fernandez2011

If you could pick any people dead or alive to go to dinner with, who would they be and why?

If fictional characters are included then Chance the Gardener from the movie “Being There” because I admire his innocence and irrational optimism, not to mention his suits. Shirley MacLaine’s my other choice. What can I say, she’s Shirley MacLaine.

When you are about finished with a work, do you return to rework it? What makes you know that you’re done and can walk away?

Actually, I never go back and rework a painting. I go through the process, however byzantine, in sequence and don’t “correct” or “refine” the piece. An artist whose name I can’t recall once said, “Paintings are never finished, only abandoned.”

Giverny Redux, Study 7, graphite on paper 22.5in x 30in, copyright Jake Fernandez2011

Do you approach your work differently today than thirty years ago?

Not really. I am much more comfortable with the process now.

What would your personal flag look like if one could represent you?

Torn but still flying.

You describe yourself as a dreamer, do you feel like you have anything in common with, say, an accountant?

I have to balance my checkbook.

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 For Sarasota Visual Art, visit http://sarasotavisualart.com/