Art as an Investment

You're speaking of David Hockney's opinion that the old masters used optics and I am inclined to think he is right. Though it rather downgrades their perceived skills, doesn't it? We always thought they walked up to a blank canvas and drew everything on the picture plane freehand, then painted it without any aid other than their naked eye. That was the wonder of painting. However, as early as Titian and his portraiture that looked into a person's soul, I doubt that there were optical aids. There could be painters who weren't especially adept at drawing but no optical aid will handle composition and color. More often, it was used to contrive certain perspectives that weren't exactly what the artist's saw but provided an optical effect that gave a painting depth. They certainly won't mix the paints for you! It's when photographs are used for composition and if they are your own photos, that's one thing. If one uses a another's photograph literally for composition, that's defined as plagerism. I still would never use even my own photographs as compositional tools. It does depend on how far one bends the rules but there are lines crossed where it's no longer defensible. If an art instructer allowed someone to pin up a photograph beside an easel, I'd wonder about the art instructor.

Happy New Year! Evocative posts from Shepaints and Lightwizard. The trio that Shepaints mentions--Degas' photography, mirroring, and the camera obscura, have in common the intensification of the basic external structure of a subject. A long while ago, when I was a serious watercolorist, I would occasionally use a black&white photograph to trigger my memory of the larger architecture of a subject. Pretty quickly, I determined that I was better off with a few sketch-marks in dark pencil in a very small notebook I carried in my pocket. Looking back on that time, the major gain from my using a camera was that I became entranced with photography as an art in itself. I have pursued it for many years, and, now, even though I sporadically work with watercolor or oil pastel, whenever I look through the viewfinder of a camera, I am always wanting a photograph rather than a painting which might lie beyond whatever the photograph might reveal. When, sporadically these days, I do play with watercolor or oil pastel, the vision I employ seems quite different from the vision I use in "seeing" potential photographs. However, as Lightwizard acutely notes, multiple visions do seem to enrich one another. Even though I am no longer anywhere near fluency with paint, I do sense that the very large amount of time I've devoted to photography has enriched the way I see what could appear on watercolor paper, if I had the skill to realize it.
Perhaps, there is a broader underlying richness to multiple visions of the same subjects. I think immediately of the synergy that sometimes occurs when one reads several very fine writers on the same topic. Each writer's view is valuable, but, combined, these views occasionally illuminate and reveal the subject to a degree that transcends the basic sum of the perceptions.
I am a major lover of Degas, especially of his paintings, drawings, and sculptures of horses. Degas did study, intensively, the sequential photographs that Muybridge made of moving horses, but, to my knowledge, Degas himself did not make a significant number of photographs of horses. Alas, Degas had very little to say (that has been recorded) about his uses of photography in general. Having seen the images that were in the fairly recent major exhibition of his photographs, I was greatly impressed with his feel for the medium. This sensation, taken along with a few of his rather enigmatic remarks about photography, suggested to me that Degas primarily saw photography as a representational end in itself. But, whether he saw it as a "legitimate" art, I don't know. Have any of you come across any pertinent commentary by Degas? Considering the intensity of Degas' attitude towards form, I don't think it likely that he would have made so many photographs unless he felt he was learning something important from the process. Perhaps, he was exploring--generally, rather than specifically--a species of the multiple-vision phenomenon that Lightwizard mentions.

investment
Miklos, delighted to see you among us again, and to enjoy your high quality of thoughtful comments. While I'm here let me briefly state that I've never understood the fuss about the artistic use of "aids." Camera obscura, mirrors, photographs--or anything else--are all fair techical, or technological, means for the achievement of artistic ends. My understanding of artistic integrity is pretty much confined to the notion of not producing SPECIFICALLY for a commercial market, or JUST to please others with minimal or no reference to one's own aesthetic values. I would be delighted to see works that explicitly "take off" from the works of others, works that build upon the achievements of previous painters, schools, whatever. ALL THAT MATTERS is aesthetic impact/success achieved by whatever means and building upon whatever source. All's fair in love and art.

There isn't anything specifically wrong with artistic aids. It is just difficult for me to see a photograph as an aid if one composes their image directly from it. I once exposed (sic) an "artist" in Laguna Beach who was using photo emulsion coated canvases, developing an image on the canvas with an enlarger and then painting over it with paint. There is a line one can cross over where they have lowered the art into the realm of mere craft. I personally find it better to paint from memory -- like I said before, look at a photograph and then put it away. Otherwise, the composition, light and shadow from a photograph alters the end result. The only reason to paint something realistically is to go beyond what a camera sees. Basically, I see that someone could pull subject matter from a photograph without actually copying it, but outright copying it and then selling the piece as an original is rather dubious at best.

MIKLOS - WELCOME TO A2k

investment
LW, I would not have exposed the culprit without first having blackmailed him. Seriously, you are absolutely right, and I hope you know that my earlier statement in no way denies that fact.

Blackmail - aha! Hadn't crossed my mind at the time.

I use photos as triggers but I also sometimes use That horizon line, or That tree form, etc. I am much less entranced by plein air painting than many many other people. I have seen recently scads of miserable plein air paintings, and find where you set up your canvas no particular virtue. I am not into photorealistic copying, good grief, but I or you don't have to drag stuff to a gnat filled hole to make a landscape work, slap. I am no Van Gogh, but I also make a scene unrecognizable....as often as I find a link in the photo. In any case, I am sick and tired of virtuous on site mythology. So there. GlW, we are speaking at cross purposes. You are taking after that idiot who did that close copy thing, and I am irritated by saintly onsiters.

I do not care a fig if your painting looks exactly like that exact scene at that exact time your body was there.

A STORY OF TWO TYPES OF PAINTING
The Daoists, on the other hand, seemed an unorganized and motley crew. They never seemed to agree on anything, even among themselves. They spent their days doing strange movements, like animals, in the garden and their nights drinking wine, reciting poetry and trying to seduce his ladies in waiting. But they were said to have great powers over the elements and the secret of eternal life. Of course, when he questioned them about this they only shrugged and said, "We have but one precious secret and one only, my lord."

"Well then," he asked, "what is this precious thing?"

"Ah," they countered, "we cannot describe this secret in words, my great and powerful lord; we can only show it to you."

"Agreed," said the emperor and announced a contest between the Confucians and the Daoists. Whoever could show him the true secret of their power, he said, would become the supreme teachers of the land.

On the appointed day the Confucians and the Daoists were led to a great chamber deep in the heart of the castle. A great curtain was drawn down the center of the room, dividing the Daoists from the Confucians. Both groups were told that they were to create a painting, a great work of art, on the wall on either side. This would be the final test of their power and knowledge. Whoever impressed the emperor the most would be awarded the prize.

The Confucians smiled and quickly ordered all the colors that were available in the royal storerooms. They immediately went to work designing and painting a magnificent mural. The Daoists, on the other hand, ordered a great deal of wine and a few dozen soft cloths, the softest that were available. Then they went to work on opening the wine.

Day after day the Confucians labored on their huge and wondrous mural. Day after day the Daoists ordered more wine and simply rubbed the wall with their soft cloths, over and over, while singing old drinking songs at the top of their lungs.

Finally came the day when the Emperor would view each work of art and make his decision. First he visited the Confucian's side of the room, certain that he would be in for a visual treat. He had watched how assiduously the Confucians had applied their layers of colors on the wall and how they stopped often to study the ancient texts and perform slow and stately rituals before taking up their brushes again.

He was not disappointed. The Confucians had created a marvel of color and form. He saw his whole city laid out before him, with his own castle in the very center of the city, with the golden light of the setting sun glinting off its shapely and graceful roofs. And way over on the edge of the painting he saw his own magnificent form astride his favorite warhorse, leading his victorious troops into battle against an already vanquished enemy. A great river ran across the bottom of the painting with cunning little waves painted all over it and the curly shadows of birds suspended above it. It was truly a wondrous and amazing sight. The emperor was at a loss as to how the Daoists could top it.

Imagine his surprise then when he crossed to the other side of the room to view the Daoists' work, only to find a completely blank wall and a lot of slightly tipsy Daoists dancing their strange cloudlike dancing. True, the wall was very shiny and smooth after numerous applications with the soft cloths, but there was nothing there-no paintings of his magnificence, no golden palace, no wondrous river.

"What is this?" he thundered. "You didn't even try to paint a picture. Is this the way you curry my favor?"

"Oh but we have done our best," cried the Daoists indignantly, and a little rudely.

"But there is nothing there," said the Emperor. "Is this truly how you view me? Is this your precious secret?"

"Wait one moment please," said the oldest and tipsiest of the Daoists, his long beard still damp with wine. "Please draw aside the curtain between our walls and you will then truly see our work."

So, shaking his head in wonder, the emperor had the curtain drawn, revealing the dazzling painting of the Confucians. The emperor stood before it once again, marveling at its wonder (and how they seemed to get his noble brow just so). Then, his mind already made up as to who was the winner this day, he turned once again to the Daoists' blank wall, only to find not a blank wall after all but the reflection of the painting on the opposite wall. Only this time, instead of a flat and static picture, he saw reflected in the unbelievably smooth and shiny wall, a moving picture.

Somehow, because of the play of light on the shiny surface, it seemed as though the painting had come alive. There was the palace and the town again, only he thought he could detect movement behind its windows. The river itself moved, the waves lapping against each other and the birds pirouetting overhead. And lastly, he could see himself there, astride his great stallion, whose very nostrils seemed to quiver in the air while his own beard fluttered in the breeze and his lips seemed to move with his own shouted orders to his troops.

He was amazed. He was astounded. He turned to the tipsy Daoists and asked them with humility and wonder in his voice just how they had managed this miracle. The Daoists seemed to hang their heads just a little and answered simply. "It is actually in not doing that we have achieved this wondrous thing, my lord. All we did was create the space for the painting to happen and let it paint itself."

"Is this then your precious secret?" asked the great lord.

"Yes," answered the Daoists, "it is indeed. We call it wu wei or not doing, and it is in creative and natural not doing that we are able to achieve ourselves to the highest level possible." Then they turned and bowed in unison to the dumbfounded Confucians. "We congratulate you, noble sirs, in your great work of art. We watched you every day work so diligently while we drank wine and rubbed a blank wall. What you have created is truly marvelous. But in your industriousness you have only created a flat and lifeless thing, while we, in our formlessness, have created a living world."

.....

Hope you don't mind me throwing this story from the Empty Vessel Magazine in here. It just seemed to fit. Anybody seen Gerhard Richter's paintings, the Gray Mirror or the Red Mirror?

Piffka dear,do you have a LOT of time on your hands?
Love from me.

OH. I pasted that, but yes, I suppose I have more time than most.

the Taoist tale
Thanks, Piffka. I'm charmed.

Oh, I hoped so. I liked it myself and thought it apropos to this discussion when I was doing (hebba- pay attention!) important philosophical reading on New Year's Day.

Attention duly paid.I´m very happy that it was pasted and not typed.
My New Years Day was not spent quite so profitably Piffka dear but I did take a lovely long stroll with my sweetheart,eat well and see "Life Is Beautiful" on the box.
Excuse me all,for digressing in this important thread.

Ossobucco -- I'm not advocating on location, or what now is referred to as plein air painting (which have been really manufactured in studios by-and-large) or Barbizon, is the only way to paint a landscape. I suggest that one goes out and sketches and does studies in nature. Painting scenes from photographs of places one has never been is essentially copying the photograph as the artist has no memory of the locale. If an artist is blessed with a good memory and can recreate a scene based almost totally on what they remember, that's certainly not unusual. Establishing a horizon line involves establishing perspective to some extent and I can see using that to some extent although any art instructor worth their snuff would consider that verboten. A photographed tree looks like a photographed tree but it's usually altered by what an artist remembers about seeing a real tree. I'm just suggesting here, as if I were giving clues about producing better work, and I would always say to use photographs as a very minimal aid.

An example of someone who can't paint trees is our buddy, Thomas Kinkaid -- they look like decorations on a plate.

investment
LW, would you not agree that an "expressionist" painting containing trees, even those of Van Gogh can be so far removed from the reality of any tree we might see in nature that it would require that the painter depend almost solely on his imagination? At the same time he might want to go to nature or to photographs to consult about some aspect of the structure of trees, just for technical, not artistic purposes. I once did a pastel painting of trees posed as if they were fighting one another. I would never have found a natural arrangement of trees to serve as models for this work. Yet I still looked around in photos and in my backyard for tips on how to make my imagined trees more credible, i.e., tree like.

Do any of you know of the work, The Oak Tree, that was shown in London's Tate last year? It was a plain glass with water on a glass shelf.

My preference (as an art purchaser) would be for something more, as JLN says, tree-like. Even a shiny wall facing a tree would do. Two trees in combat seems pretty interesting, I wonder if there were axes?

It astonishes me that anybody ever would buy a single Thomas Kinkaid. I can only assume that the average person with money in his pocket doesn't have a clue.

As to whether an art investor cares if a work is completed en plein, on location, in a studio, or wherever -- I think it doesn't matter, however, it is picturesque to see an artist out and about with a portable easel. Makes you think he or she knows what's what. Oil does take a long time to dry, though and we all assume the work is completed inside. Our friend likes to work outside to match his colors.

I agree that what the artist's see in their mind's eye is what is crucially important. What the camera sees is a flat, static image with light and color burned onto an emulsion. That's not to put down the art of photography, just that they are two different things. The great photographers were able to take a shot of a landscape at just the right time of day, at the optimum location and perspective in a composition that is exciting to the eye. They can alter and/or enhance one's perception of reality. I am saying that a photograph of a tree eliminates one of the processes of the artist's mind -- their interpretation of what the tree looks like in a particular environment. If they took the photograph, hopefully the same artistic license will be taken to portray the tree in a really aesthetic manner rather than anything close to the photograph. I wouldn't want to appear judgemental here as that would require seeing the photograph and then the finished artwork. Artists of the past paint what's around them, what they have access to in landscape locales. Monet actually built what he wanted to paint - the famous waterlily paintings. It is, of course, difficult today painting anything like traditional landscapes as they are necessarily going to end up looking like artist's work from the past. Hockney has produced some great landscapes in his own distinctive style. It is difficult to paint representational work when the styles of the past have been virtually explored to their fullest in a myriad of variations.

Piffka -- painting out in nature is the theory that it eliminates any form of the image before it is painting on the canvas (or other media). Many of these paintings are not completed out in the field but in the studio without any aids. Using photography to establish shading, highlight and color? You be the judge. There has been such a demand for this "style" of painting in California, that galleries have hired out artists of dubious skills to manufacture "plein air art" in production studios. It's not only energy companies that are out to rob the American public.

Kinkaid is a hack greeting card artist who with some other smart marketing associates knew what mediocrity would please the average mall prowler, although they prices are up where only a few qualify to buy (they offer financing for those foolish enough to think they are buying anything near what the intrinsic value of these painting over reproductions actually are true). These reproductions on canvas that have paint daubed on them by what is affectionately referred to as "elves" (artist usually straight out of school who are paid very low wages). I'm being redundant but this happens to be the prime example of the investment scams in art foisted onto the under educated public.

Jespah are you getting the response you needed or wanted? Expected?