Speak Softly

There's a certain prejudice among many artists which is not often discussed, but is occasionally addressed in books written by and for artists. It manifests as something of a snobbery in regards to one's chosen medium, as well as one's choice of subject matter. The hierarchy of the major mediums goes something like this: oils, watercolors, acrylics, pastels/charcoals. Artists and a great many non-artists alike tend to think of oils as the pinnacle of all mediums and if you can successfully master them, then you are a true artist. I guess one can assume that the more fussy or difficult your medium, the more hoodsies you deserve as an artist. I'm not entirely sure how choosing to work predominantly in oils over, say, acrylics, makes you a superior artist to one who would choose the latter medium, but it does happen. Likewise, if you're a portraitist, and especially a portraitist in oils, then you are in theory Lord and Master, and all other artists must bow low before you. While I haven't experienced much of this prejudice first hand, I have been witness to those who consider collage and assemblage artists to be lesser artists than traditional painters, and are quite frequently looked down upon with undisguised disdain.

Personally, I find it all pretty disgusting. An artist is an artist is an artist. Everyone has different skills, choices, techniques and preferences and as such cannot be compared with those of other artists. An artist's work must stand on its own merit and need not adhere to the biases of some close-minded, shallow and preconceived ideas put forth by artists-cum-art-snobs. An artist must be beholden to no one's standards save their own. As a group artists tend to be undervalued and often misunderstood and to pick apart and demean many within our group simply because we think we're better than them in some way is absurd.

After pouring your very soul into a work, nobody wants to hear from another artist that their work is shit and is merely masquerading as something called "art," while the critic's work is the true masterpiece by dint of its medium and subject.

And Taking the Opposing Viewpoint

Some artists I'm glad I never met:

Mary Cassatt. Repetitive in a very boring way. I don't care how edgy she was considered by her contemporaries in regards to her perspectives and color palettes. I find her to be repetitious and, frankly, irritating as hell.

Gustav Klimt. Ugly people and blobs of gold on virtually every canvas.

Edvard Munch. The man's early work was delicate and lovely, but then all his subjects started to resemble not very well executed space aliens. Yuck.

Paul Gauguin. An arrogant man in his time and a tedious painter with minimal skill.

Georgia O'Keeffe. Enough with the big labial flowers and the steer skulls. This woman makes me go temporarily insane whenever I see her work.

I could fill an ocean with a list of the artists I'd rather not think about.

Artists I Would Like to Have Met

There are so many artists that I would like to have met. These are some of them:

Vincent Van Gogh. I'm enthralled with the idea that he could complete an entire painting within an hour. To work at that speed and execute the work so beautifully is an incredible feat. This concept is especially mind-blowing in regards to portraits, which are notoriously difficult. How was this possible?

John Singer Sargent. I would be humbled in his presence. His portraits are amazing: the life he infused in his sitters' eyes, the luminous flesh tones he achieved, the breathtakingly subtle lighting. His work moves me like no other artist.

Jackson Pollock. His later works, specifically the splatter paintings, are incredible in their layers of color and texture. His are among the few paintings that I consistently defy museum rules over by running my fingers lightly over their surface when the docents turn their heads (I know this is very bad). I can't help it. They beg to be touched.

Pierre-Auguste Renoir. His pinks and his reds are startling and life just vibrates throughout his works. While many works have a calming effect on me, Renoir's make me positively giddy.

Claude Monet. How could I not like an artist who couldn't let go of a subject until he had painted it to death? Having the compulsion to paint the same scene repeatedly, sometimes literally hundreds of times under varying conditions, is a man of my own heart. A little OCD can make for a compelling body of work.

Beautiful works by mind-bogglingly talented artists, every one of them.