Disasters

Well, every so often, I might call a painting I've finished a "disaster." All artists produce works that just don't work for whatever reason.

But in this case, I'm referring to natural disasters. Hurricane Ike brought frightening ruin to the Texas coast, and it reminds me how fragile our lives and our material things are.

Here in the California desert, it's unlikely we'll ever have to be overly concerned about hurricanes. Sometimes we get tornados, but they're rare.

The problem here: earthquakes. The state is riddled with fault lines. Some are active, some haven't been but could become active. We live less than 100 yards/100m from a relatively inactive fault -- a state highway lies right on top of it. And we're about 20 miles/32.2km (as the crow flies) from the San Andreas fault, which is guaranteed to cause a major disaster, 'tho' no one knows when. Someday, this area is going to get nailed. Whether we'll still be alive to see it is the issue. Or it could happen a minute from now.

The painting I've shown includes a small portion of one branch of the San Andreas fault. The fault runs along the front of the palm trees, which tend to grow along faults since underground water is able to seep close to the surface. From this viewpoint, you are standing on the Pacific plate, moving slowly towards the left. The palms and the hills behind them are on the North American plate, moving slowly to the right. Someday, the city of San Francisco will be where the palms are now, IF all that movement enables the city to survive.

Johnny One-Note

In my previous post, I mentioned a weekly art show I used to visit from time to time and how much I enjoyed a desert landscape painter that showed there.

I remember another painter I used to see at that show. I can't recall his work in detail, but it featured mountains, a lake and pine trees. All in browns and greens. ALL of his paintings.

For you see, he painted the same painting over and over again. Big ones, small ones, horizontal and vertical ones of each size. But the image was essentially the same on each canvas.

If a customer really liked the image, s/he would have no problem finding the right size and format for the available space in the home or office. If people didn't like the image, well, there was nothing else to look at in this guy's booth, so the buyers would move along and look elsewhere.

I never did talk with the artist. I'd love to know if he discovered the image was a winner: that's why he painted it and it only. Or: was it an image he liked and therefore banked his time and his material costs on re-painting it ad nauseum?

I've heard artists like this referred to as "Johnny One-Notes." No variety, no experimentation--just do what's safe and, possibly, saleable. While it isn't unusual for artists to become known for doing a certain subject with variations, THIS guy took it to an extreme.

Frankly, I think that's sad. If he's still painting and selling work, I hope he's grown in his art AND in his ability to take chances.

First Influence

If you were to read my Bio/Statement on my Website http://southwestspaces.com/biography%20and%20statement.html (which is, of course, required reading for all!!), you would see some of the artists from the past who have influenced the way I work on my landscapes.

One artist, however, is missing from the list. This was a man with a German accent who I used to see at a weekly art show in the early 1970's at Griswold's in Claremont, CA. He painted mostly desert scenes that had an Old Master quality about them. His world was always "at the spring," with everything in bloom and rugged mountains rising tall behind the saguaros and ocotillos.

I was attending college in those days (actually, one of numerous runs in college) and wasn't working. So, sadly, I wasn't able to buy one of his paintings. I think this artist (whose name I don't remember) figured I might buy a piece sooner or later: he always made it a point to get up from his chair and come over to talk to me as I stood there, practically drooling over the beauty of his paintings.

Indeed, to this day I wish I would have found a way to hustle the money to buy one. He captured the sheer majesty of the desert in a way that inspires me today. I consider him the first influence in my painting career, and unfortunately, I'm unable to list his name because I don't know it. I doubt that he is alive today, and since Griswold's stopped doing the art shows years ago and has changed ownership at least once (it isn't even called "Griswold's" anymore), and since his studio/gallery that was located in Pomona, CA is long gone, I have no way to locate him or even search for his paintings online.

So the lesson is this: if you see art that touches you in a deeply profound way: BUY IT!! Now!! You, like me, may regret not doing so years from now. Truly one-of-a-kind art from one-in-a-kind artists is rare, and when you finally realize how much better your life would be if you only had "that painting" or "that sculpture" or whatever -- it may be too late.

You can buy that flat-screen TV anytime. They'll be around. Artists may not be.

Cactus and Other Critters

Bunnies aren't the only desert critters I put into paintings.

This is a cactus wren that I included in a large (48" x 60"/1.2m x 1.5m) painting. Cactus wrens are not the most colorful birds around, but they have a call that's unlike any other sound you've heard. When you hear it, you know you're in the desert.

Bunny Art

If you've ever wondered where my avatar (with the desert cottontail bunny-rabbit) came from:

It was one of our yard bunnies. I put out small amounts of food for the wild critters -- not enough for them to live on so they're not dependent on us -- and I take pictures of them. Bunnies, Gambels quail, roadrunners, coyotes (I don't put food out for them, but feeding prey indirectly feeds the predators), hawks, whatever. I use these photos as reference material to paint critters, almost always in a different, more dramatic context.

Look carefully at the attached image, and you'll see my avatar bunny near the bottom, right of center in a large (48" x 60"/1.2m x 1.5m) painting of the southern California desert in the Palm Springs area.

Concerned

I worry a lot, especially about things I can't control.

Take the painting, "Song of the Angels" on the right by William Bouguereau, quite possibly the best artist of the 19th century and arguably of all time. Many people today would not appreciate a painting like this and don't understand why it is an example of great art.

As one who is inspired by classical art, I'm concerned that kids today are not exposed to great art. Even college students are led to believe that work like this is "sentimental," "derivative, "boring" and worse.

Sadly, we have many art "professionals" who promote an agenda that de-emphasizes developing skill and discipline in the arts. It's like music students learning to play, sing or compose music without learning anything about scales, chord theory or other basics.

Add to this the fact that when school budgets get tight, the first things eliminated from the curricula are the art and music programs.

I'm one of those who believe so many people, maybe especially in America, see art as being entirely trivial -- nothing more than a decoration that matches the sofa and window treatment and that "ties the whole room together." And kids, and even many adults, know (and will learn) nothing about art and what great art can do for us. What will this do to the future of art and to those of us who make (and try to sell) traditional/classical art?

A fella by the name of Brian Yoder has a Website where he discusses the topic of great art in more depth than is possible here. Whether you agree with his viewpoint or not, his comments will make you think. Find his thoughts in his "frequently asked questions" section: http://www.goodart.org/faq.htm

Also, an outfit called the Art Renewal Center has many online articles and a vast collection of traditional artwork (also online): http://www.artrenewal.com (note: some of the art shown on this site, including the home page, does show nudity -- not to be confused with pornography IMO).

Meanwhile, I'll be busy -- painting in the classical style, and worrying whether or not anyone will even like this stuff in 10-20 years.

Art is My Drug

As I sit here at the confuser, I have a TV tuned to VH1's "Drug Years," a set of programs about the late 1960's-'70's and the proliferation of marijuana, LSD, speed and other stuff that became popular among the hippie culture. The programs bring back a lot of memories for me.

By 1968, I was already a year out of high school and was beginning to take on the look of the "hippies" I knew in community college. (The look eventually evolved into biker dress without the gang colors of Hells Angels et al). Many of the people I hung with used drugs; yet, for whatever reason, I didn't get into that stuff myself. Well, OK, I took ONE puff on a joint out of curiosity about the taste and how it felt to fill one's lungs intentionally with smoke. That was it. I've sometimes wondered why I never got caught up with drugs as others around me did.

I only thing I can figure is: I'm a rebel. Always have been. I wouldn't be an artist today if I wasn't willing to break away from convention and do something like that, especially when some people tell you "you can't make it as an artist." That just makes me want to prove them wrong.

I seem to rebel against whatever is popular, whatever the status symbols are, and -- of course -- the status quo. When the movie, "The Titanic" came out and it became such a hit, I made it a point NOT to see it. When SUVs became the rage, I hated 'em -- and still do. And when people tell me to accept things the way they are; or to take the safe, easy way -- hey! I'LL SHOW YOU!!!

And drugs and alcohol. Using them never struck me as being a very bright thng to do. I saw people who were out of control and acting stupid. I hate being out of control and acting stupid. I need discipline to do art and to grow in it, even when I wasn't that self-disciplined in the late '60's-early '70's.

I'm sure my rebellious nature has caused me a lot of problems over the years. But it also saved me from the negative consequences of using drugs.

Besides, art is my drug. Nothing else can compare to the high I get when a painting is turning out better than I expected. I'm not sure if art is cheaper than drugs, but I have something to show for it when the high is over. That works for me!