I Like it, I Don't Like it

I've been trying to decide exactly why I like certain artists and not others and there doesn't seem to be any particular reasoning to it, though when I really dislike the artist personally, I almost never like their work either. For example, I can't stand Gauguin as a person because I consider him to have been an incredibly arrogant and obnoxious man and I loathe the man's paintings equally as much. Every last canvas. Even when I was a child, I couldn't stand to look at his work. But by the same token, I adore Van Gogh who was also an arrogant, obnoxious human being yet I not only feel a warm spark for who he was but love all his work as well, in spite of the fact that he routinely made basic painting errors on virtually every canvas.

Most of the time it isn't the subject matter that makes the decision for me as to whether I like the work or not, but the artist who is the deciding factor, oddly enough. One exception to this personal rule of mine would be Gustav Klimt. There is nothing particularly irritating about the artist as a man yet his work is among the most annoying I can think of (except for maybe Mary Cassatt whose work, to me at any rate, is equally irritating to behold). I've also found that even when I come to a body of work knowing little to nothing about the artist personally, the work that I find least appealing (or in many cases, downright horrible) usually ends up being by an artist I end up disliking just as much once I learn about their lives.

Apparently for me, the person who has created the work is equally as important as the work itself. I'm not sure why this is so important a factor for me, but it obviously is. For some people, the artist and their work can be seen as separate entities, whereas for me, they are intimately entwined. I guess in my mind, an ugly soul makes ugly art. I'm still trying to work out why, exactly, I feel this way.


Self Portrait, graphite on handmade paper, digitally altered to halftone, 2008.

Drawing 101: No Previous Experience Necessary

I'm always surprised when people tell me they wish they could draw but they have no talent and so it isn't possible. Granted, drawing really well requires a certain degree of talent, as does any skill, but in all honesty, anyone can draw. And like any other skill, it can be learned and mastered. I don't know why people don't believe this when I tell them that once they learn the basics, they can draw just about anything. Take a class. Buy a book. There are a ton of books at Barnes and Noble, all of them called "You Can Learn to Draw in Six Easy Lessons" or some variation thereof, yet so many people think there is some great mystery involved in creating a drawing. You don't have to be an "artist" to make a pretty picture.

Granted, being an actual artist is very different from someone who likes to draw just because it's fun or because they enjoy meeting new people in an adult ed art class at the local tech school. While an artist can learn new skills and develop new techniques and abilities, I don't believe that someone who isn't an artist in their heart and soul can "become" one through a few lessons. Either you is or you isn't. But even the isn'ts can master enough skill to make a pretty good show of it. It's what you carry inside you that makes the difference between the Sunday Draw-er and the Real Artist. When art is the air you breath all day long and every little thing you do is somehow done with creativity on the brain and you can do nothing less, then you're an artist.

But to all my non-artist friends who swear they can't draw so much as a stick figure: try it, you just might be surprised at what you can do and how quickly you can do it. Honestly.

Sketch of Edison Jack standing, graphite on handmade paper, 2008.

All My Missing Artwork

I don't have any of my own artwork up in my house anywhere. Not a single piece. Not too long ago, a woman who lives here in town who is a storyteller by profession (how many of them to do you meet in a lifetime?) was walking by and invited herself into my house to see it and be given a tour of it. Odd, yes, especially since I had never met this woman before, but as I know she lives in a very old house and I live in a very old house, I understood her curiosity in seeing what David and I had done with our house as opposed to hers, which is just a mile or so from ours. (David and I have actually seen her house before as it was on the historic house tour one year and we went through it, though she didn't know this at the time).

Well, anyways, we went room to room with me pointing out what we have done and what we plan on doing and she offered her opinions on many things; some quite astute and some, like herself, very odd. She asked me what I do and I told her I'm an artist and she told me she's a storyteller who performs regionally (I knew this already) and as we roamed about my home, she began to ask, "Is this one of your paintings?" each time we passed a different work and each time I replied, "No, I didn't paint that." When she finally just came out and asked me if any of them at all in the house were mine, I had to answer that there wasn't a single painting of mine in here. I have never found this to be curious as I would far prefer to look at others' work than my own (since I can see my stuff any old time and frequently do), but she found it strange. Honestly, I had never given it much thought nor do I believe has anyone else who lives in my house or, prior to her visit, anyone who has just been in my house (or maybe they have thought it odd but just never said anything).

But of late I have been thinking about this. Maybe I should have something that is mine in here somewhere. I actually have two places right now in need of artwork: a corner wall in the living room that until recently had a lovely Charles Franklin Pierce cow painting on it and an entire wall up one side of the stairs that has never had a piece on it but has simply been begging for something to adorn it since we moved here. I've been toying with some subject matter and think that perhaps after the holidays, when life settles back down to its usual dull and uneventful self, I'll start a painting for one of those two spaces. Both will have to be fairly large, so either will be a considerable amount of work, but I think I might enjoy this.

Looking at the finished product every day, however, might be a different story.