Showing posts with label illustration. Show all posts
Showing posts with label illustration. Show all posts

Tuesday, May 6, 2014

Digital painting and the question of value...

"Wow, this painting is great! ...oh, it's only digital." 



A couple of weeks ago, I saw a wonderful illustration posted on Facebook that had been reposted from artist/illustrator Kelley McMorris' blog. At the top was a sketch of a digital artist thinking and planning his/her next digital art creation - paying attention to light, form, composition, color, message. This kind of thinking goes into the creation of a digital work BEFORE one ever puts pen to tablet just as it goes into creating a traditional artwork before putting brush to canvas. At the bottom of the illustration, however, was another sketch of the same artist sitting back in his/her chair and saying, "Computer draw me a horse." The two sketches demonstrate the difference between what actually happens in the process of creating a digital artwork and what the public perception of such art might be.

Until I took up digital painting, I probably suffered from the same misconceptions. Now, I know better and, like many other digital artists - illustrators, cartoonists, 3D fantasy creators, fractal artists as well as digital painters - I'm anxious for the day that digitally created art is perceived by both the public and gallery owners and art critics as valid and valuable art. That day has not yet arrived. Few critics can even agree on what constitutes "digital art" let alone consider it for the rarefied atmosphere of upscale galleries. Isn't most photography digital now? Photography as art seems to make the cut for what constitutes "fine art" though photo composites and significantly altered and textured works are not viewed the same way. Besides, I don't recall any photograph ever bringing $44 million at auction. (I'm speaking of the recent auction price for the Barnett Newman "Onement VI" painting that looks like a blue ping pong table top).

I hope you'll pardon my outrage about this but just because some ritzy art critic decided to tout Newman's series of paintings in New York art circles doesn't make it art, let alone art worth $44 million. Perhaps it's the "little green monster" at work in me, but I can assure you that a great deal more thought, time, effort, reflection about mood and message went into my digital painting pictured above than went into this work. Give me a roll of blue painters' tape and a gallon of oil based house paint and I could create the match for this in red or yellow or whatever color the critic might like. Then there is the $75 million for a 1950 Rothko, or the $148 million for Jackson Pollack's No. 5...but I'll stop there.

There is debate even within the digital painters' circle though about whether what we do is merely a duplication of traditional painting techniques or an expansion of them, and further whether a work created specifically for reproduction and print, even in limited editions, could ever have the value of a singular "original" traditional painting. So let's dissect the process and the question of reproducibility versus value.

Writer/artist Stephen Danzig contends, "Within the digital creative matrix is a human consciousness that must utilize the traditional processes of understanding line, color theory and subject matter - its linear function is the same by definition as traditional processes and must be judged and valued accordingly." There is some agreement about the similarities in the creative processes. According to the Wikipedia article on digital painting, "As a method of creating an art object, it adapts traditional painting medium such as acrylic paint, oils, ink, etc. and applies the pigment to traditional carriers, such as woven canvas cloth, paper, polyester etc. by means of computer software driving industrial robotic or office machinery (printers)....'Traditional digital painting' creates an image in a stroke-by-stroke, brush-in-hand fashion but the canvas and the painting tools are digital." 

I consider myself a traditional digital painter because even though I work from a sketch or a reference photograph, I apply each stroke and color in my painting individually just as if I were working with acrylics (my previous traditional medium) on wood or canvas. I work doubly hard to create the effect of tooth, texture, brushstrokes - aspects of a finished painting that would be automatic using traditional materials. I am not talking about programs - and there are many excellent ones on the market - like Corel Painter that will "clone" a photograph and convert it into any kind of painting with just a few keystrokes and the push of a few buttons. (Not that that is as easy as it looks either!) I am talking about starting with a blank "canvas" or a simple black and white sketch and actually painting each brushstroke, being responsible for color mixing, type and size of brush, desired output style, proper lighting and so forth. Even using a reference photo - as a painter would use a model or paint in plein air - does not negate the incredibly detailed work the true digital painter has to do.

This is where the disagreement often begins about the merits of digital painting. It is both harder and easier than traditional painting, I think. It is harder because as J. D. Jarvis, the Museum of Computer Art's contributing editor says, "Digital artists work hard to mimic the effects of gravity, absorption or resistance and interaction with grain and texture that happen naturally (or by chance) with physical materials. And, since these "accidents" shape the nature of such material-based work, digital tools force us into devising new virtual techniques." I have to use digitally rendered effects like "noise" or "grunge" or canvas texture to give my work the same kind of dimension and texture a physical painting would have. But it's easier and more freeing too for several reasons. Contrary to Stephen Danzig's assertion that digital art has the same linear function as traditional art, creating a digital painting or illustration is NOT a linear process. It is a layered process. Some of my digital paintings or digital composites have more than 30 layers. One folk art painting I did had 84 separate layers before I was even remotely satisfied with the final project. This is a major difference but one that should bring added value to the finished output. "Digital tools offer production techniques ...such as multiple undos and the ability to save and combine previous renditions of a single project and, thereby, allows us to risk pushing a composition in a direction that while it may have destroyed a physical work on traditional materials, only brings a digital composition greater depth and more polish. If nothing else, we are allowed to know that flash of inspiration wasn't really a good way to go after all and can return to the previous undamaged state. For this reason alone, digital compositions should be the strongest, most polished and thoroughly explored compositions in art and, at the same time, the most spontaneous." 

To be continued in Friday's post....




Thursday, January 9, 2014

It's OK for serious art to be funny...



 “Laughter is the sound of the soul dancing. My soul probably looks like Fred Astaire.”

― Jarod Kintz, This Book is Not for Sale

 May I Have This Dance?


About three and a half years ago, the Los Angeles Times’ Entertainment section ran an article by Sharon Mizota entitled, “It’s OK for serious art to be funny.” I have to admit that while I’m not a natural born humorist and I’m often charged with being far too serious all the time, I find art that employs humor to make a serious point extremely appealing. It’s the juxtaposition of the significantly important and the silly and satirical that is behind the success of political cartoonists like Garry Trudeau, creator of the comic strip “Doonesbury.” From its 1970 debut as a daily comic strip in a couple of dozen newspapers, “Doonesbury” became famous for its social and political commentary, primarily liberal, that was peppered with wry and ironic humor and eventually was syndicated in approximately 1,400 newspapers worldwide.


According to Mizota, “Using humor to deflate the pretensions of the art world is nothing new. Since 1917, when Marcel Duchamp put a urinal on a pedestal and signed it with a pseudonym, artists have been poking fun at the definition and conventions of art.” But humor in art is often passed over as simply entertainment. As Sheri Klein, professor of art education at the University of Wisconsin-Stout and author of the book, Art and Laughter, says, “Humor is still regarded as associated with entertainment value…” and she thinks curators and even artists themselves are reluctant to discuss the humorous aspects of a particular artwork for fear it won’t be taken seriously. She makes an important argument, however, that humor functions differently in art than it does in entertainment
"The aim in humor for entertainment is to help us forget our troubles," she says. "The role of humor in terms of art is awareness and liberation and change. So I think the outcomes or the aims are different, but the techniques might be the same."

An artist can make us laugh at the same time as he/she forces us to look at the world around us with a critical eye. That’s an important gift and a true art though there might be disagreement about whether a particular piece is funny or not…that might depend on one’s political view. And naturally, humor is subjective, and not every artwork that brings a laugh was intended to be funny. “In fact,” says Mizota, “Artworks that go for easy laughs are often dismissed as superficial entertainment -- or worse, simple mockery.”

But then…you find an artist like Jeff Van Syckle, creator/author of a series of cartoon-style artworks called “A Lifetime Thinking” whose art is wonderfully executed, perfectly serious and incredibly wry and humorous. You can’t help but realize that the relationship between art and humor is much more serious than a little chuckle. It’s one of the most significant non-violent means of social change!!! 


One of the most famous of political cartoon series - Puck. This example from the Library of Congress archives. 
 
The Crabbed Millionaire's Puzzle. Illustration shows an old man labeled "Millionaire" sitting in a chair atop a pile of moneybags, bemoaning the fact that he now has little time to give away his money in a satisfactory manner; on the left are the church and the university looking for contributions and on the right are the hated "Relatives" looking to inherit new found wealth. illus. J.S. Pughe. Aug. 1901. LC-DIG-ppmsca-25553