Anton Chekhov
...The man who wants nothing, hopes for nothing and fears nothing can never be an artist.
From a letter to Suvorin, 1892
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Suggestion:
If you are interested in reading something truly beautiful on the subject of art, something that may grip your heart and perhaps even bring tears to your eyes, you can do no better than to find a copy of Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn's Nobel Lecture. It is also valuable as containing the clearest explanation of Dostoevsky's statement, 'Beauty will one day save the world', which he made in his speech at the unveiling of the Pushkin memorial.
Monday, June 8, 2009
'There are tears (of grief) at the very heart of things.'
At long last, assignment #2
Associating Polenov's work with contemporary police brutality and child prostitution is within the literary convention of the 'fallen woman', employed as a tool with which to expose the hypocrisy and moral bankruptcy of a social system that creates, uses, and then abuses her.
(The Wanderers and Critical Realism in 19th-Century Russian Painting, Pg.104,para. 4. Jackson, David Manchester University Press, 2006)
Please here refer to Polenov's Christ and the Woman Taken in Adultery, 1887, to which the above quote is in reference to; as well as Max Beckman's Woman Taken in Adultery. Both of these can be found in the right hand column.
If you (dear reader) are familiar with the assignment you are aware that the above quote was to some extent randomly selected. I did select the book based on it's title, which jumped out at me as I was scanning a library shelf.
The first thing that comes to mind, repeatedly, when I read the sentence is a passage written by Fyodor Dostoevsky which appeared in the April, 1863 issue of Vremya. I am using it as it appears in David Magarshack's fine introduction to Modern Library's The Best Short Stories of Dostoevsky. Please consider this my first 'image'.
When you look at these outcasts of society, you feel that for a long time to come the prophesy will not be fulfilled for them; that for a long time there will be no palm branches for them, nor white robes; that for a long time they will call in vain to the throne of the Almighty, 'How long, O Lord!'
But they know this themselves, and so far they have been protesting against the wrongs society has inflicted on them by forming all kinds of dark religious sects. We are surprised at the folly of people embracing such superstitions, but we fail to realize that what we see here is a rejection of our social formula, an obstinate, unconscious, instinctive separation, a separation at all costs, for the sake of salvation, a separation accompanied by a feeling of disgust with us, and fear, too. These millions, abandoned and driven away from the rich man's table, jostling and crushing each other in the outer darkness in which they have been flung by their more fortunate brothers, are groping blindly to knock at the gates- any gates, looking desperately for a way of escape from the suffocating dark cellar. Here we are witnessing a last desperate attempt to hold together in a community among themselves, prepared to abandon even the semblance of human beings, so long as they can have a life of their own, so long as they can keep out of our way.
Anyone who has ever visited London has probably been to the Haymarket, if only once. This is the quarter which is at night crowded with women of the street. In the Haymarket I saw mothers who had brought their young daughters, girls who were still in their teens, to be sold to men. Little girls of about twelve seize you by the hand and ask you to go with them.
Along with this come thoughts about the same author's unabashed addressing of the same issues in The Insulted and Humiliated and Crime and Punishment, and perhaps even abstractly in The Dream of a Ridiculous Man. In Crime and Punishment (written in 1865/'66) another fitting scenario is described. Part 3, chapter IIV: Sonia, a harlot, visits Raskolnikov on an errand for her stepmother. To her surprise the room is also occupied by Raskolnikov's mother and sister, as well as his friend Razumihin and a doctor, Vossimov. In the awkward situation that ensues Raskolnikov insists on placing Sonia beside his mother and sister, and introduces her on equal terms. This puts the predominately lower-middle class group at a bit of a loss. Later on in the story Sonia and Raskolnikov serve to lead each other to redemption. Through this Dostoevsky illustrates the spiritual fortitude of a human being downtrodden and forced to sell her body for meagre profit (though Raskolnikov observes that she can't keep it up indefinitely). This is one of the most powerful themes in Russian art- that redemption reaches deeper than man ever can dive.
Consequently Dostoevsky also exposes the 'hypocrisy and moral bankruptcy of a social system that creates, uses, then abuses her'. However a more ready example is to be found in Georges Rouault. At the same time that [Rouault's] prostitutes did not live comfortably in their own bodies, they had dignity; their faces expressed anger rather than complete humiliation. In short, they were, as Stephen Schoesser has written, 'figures whose dignity consists in the fact that they know themselves as masked and misjudged by others.' Like clowns.., these prostitutes know the reality of their nakedness underneath their sequined dresses. And latter in the same essay, The mass cultural practises of the new Paris--strolling down the boulevards, shopping for the latest fashion, reading the newspaper gossip, taking in a show at the Moulin Rouge--had transformed the city into a world where seeing and being seen were paramount. Such practises produced the world as an image or picture, transforming everyday life into a spectacle. (Mary Louise Roberts, 'Tears at the Heart of Spectacular Paris: Rouault's Prostitutes.' In 'Mystic Masque: Semblance and Reality in Georges Rouault, 1871-1958.' Ed. Stephen Schloesser. McMullen Museum of Art, Boston College. University of Chicago Press, 2008.) Please reference Rouault's Fille, or Femme aux Cheveux Roux in right hand column.
End of first part.
Associating Polenov's work with contemporary police brutality and child prostitution is within the literary convention of the 'fallen woman', employed as a tool with which to expose the hypocrisy and moral bankruptcy of a social system that creates, uses, and then abuses her.
(The Wanderers and Critical Realism in 19th-Century Russian Painting, Pg.104,para. 4. Jackson, David Manchester University Press, 2006)
Please here refer to Polenov's Christ and the Woman Taken in Adultery, 1887, to which the above quote is in reference to; as well as Max Beckman's Woman Taken in Adultery. Both of these can be found in the right hand column.
If you (dear reader) are familiar with the assignment you are aware that the above quote was to some extent randomly selected. I did select the book based on it's title, which jumped out at me as I was scanning a library shelf.
The first thing that comes to mind, repeatedly, when I read the sentence is a passage written by Fyodor Dostoevsky which appeared in the April, 1863 issue of Vremya. I am using it as it appears in David Magarshack's fine introduction to Modern Library's The Best Short Stories of Dostoevsky. Please consider this my first 'image'.
When you look at these outcasts of society, you feel that for a long time to come the prophesy will not be fulfilled for them; that for a long time there will be no palm branches for them, nor white robes; that for a long time they will call in vain to the throne of the Almighty, 'How long, O Lord!'
But they know this themselves, and so far they have been protesting against the wrongs society has inflicted on them by forming all kinds of dark religious sects. We are surprised at the folly of people embracing such superstitions, but we fail to realize that what we see here is a rejection of our social formula, an obstinate, unconscious, instinctive separation, a separation at all costs, for the sake of salvation, a separation accompanied by a feeling of disgust with us, and fear, too. These millions, abandoned and driven away from the rich man's table, jostling and crushing each other in the outer darkness in which they have been flung by their more fortunate brothers, are groping blindly to knock at the gates- any gates, looking desperately for a way of escape from the suffocating dark cellar. Here we are witnessing a last desperate attempt to hold together in a community among themselves, prepared to abandon even the semblance of human beings, so long as they can have a life of their own, so long as they can keep out of our way.
Anyone who has ever visited London has probably been to the Haymarket, if only once. This is the quarter which is at night crowded with women of the street. In the Haymarket I saw mothers who had brought their young daughters, girls who were still in their teens, to be sold to men. Little girls of about twelve seize you by the hand and ask you to go with them.
Along with this come thoughts about the same author's unabashed addressing of the same issues in The Insulted and Humiliated and Crime and Punishment, and perhaps even abstractly in The Dream of a Ridiculous Man. In Crime and Punishment (written in 1865/'66) another fitting scenario is described. Part 3, chapter IIV: Sonia, a harlot, visits Raskolnikov on an errand for her stepmother. To her surprise the room is also occupied by Raskolnikov's mother and sister, as well as his friend Razumihin and a doctor, Vossimov. In the awkward situation that ensues Raskolnikov insists on placing Sonia beside his mother and sister, and introduces her on equal terms. This puts the predominately lower-middle class group at a bit of a loss. Later on in the story Sonia and Raskolnikov serve to lead each other to redemption. Through this Dostoevsky illustrates the spiritual fortitude of a human being downtrodden and forced to sell her body for meagre profit (though Raskolnikov observes that she can't keep it up indefinitely). This is one of the most powerful themes in Russian art- that redemption reaches deeper than man ever can dive.
Consequently Dostoevsky also exposes the 'hypocrisy and moral bankruptcy of a social system that creates, uses, then abuses her'. However a more ready example is to be found in Georges Rouault. At the same time that [Rouault's] prostitutes did not live comfortably in their own bodies, they had dignity; their faces expressed anger rather than complete humiliation. In short, they were, as Stephen Schoesser has written, 'figures whose dignity consists in the fact that they know themselves as masked and misjudged by others.' Like clowns.., these prostitutes know the reality of their nakedness underneath their sequined dresses. And latter in the same essay, The mass cultural practises of the new Paris--strolling down the boulevards, shopping for the latest fashion, reading the newspaper gossip, taking in a show at the Moulin Rouge--had transformed the city into a world where seeing and being seen were paramount. Such practises produced the world as an image or picture, transforming everyday life into a spectacle. (Mary Louise Roberts, 'Tears at the Heart of Spectacular Paris: Rouault's Prostitutes.' In 'Mystic Masque: Semblance and Reality in Georges Rouault, 1871-1958.' Ed. Stephen Schloesser. McMullen Museum of Art, Boston College. University of Chicago Press, 2008.) Please reference Rouault's Fille, or Femme aux Cheveux Roux in right hand column.
End of first part.
To Quote...
...Georges Rouault,
I realized that the 'clown' was myself, it was all of us, or nearly all. It is life itself which gives us this rich and sequined costume, we are all clowns to a certain extent, we all wear sequined costumes, but if someone catches us unawares, as I did when I surprised the old clown, oh! who would dare admit that he is not touched to his very depths by immeasurable pity. I have this failing (if it is a failing; in any case, it is a source of enormous suffering) never to leave anyone in their sequined costume, even if he is king or emperor. What I want to see in the man standing before me is his soul, and the greater the person, the more exalted his position, the more I fear for his soul.
(Georges Rouault, forme, couleur, harmonie, catalogue Strasbourg: Musees de Strasbourg, 2006)
...And Maxim Gorki,
One day, as I was going through one of the passages of a circus, I happened to look in at the open door of a clown's dressing room and, becoming interested in him, stopped. In a long frock coat, wearing an opera hat and gloves, with a slender cane under his armpit, he was standing in front of a mirror and, raising his hat with a beautiful gesture of his dexterous hand, was bowing and scraping before his mirrored reflection.
Noticing in the mirror my astonished face, he quickly turned around to me and said with a smile, pointing a finger at his face in the mirror:
'I-I! Yes?'
Then he moved asside; his reflection in the mirror vanished; he slowly passed his hand through the air and spoke anew:
'I no more! Understand?'
From The Clown
(Translated by Bernard Guilbert Guerney. Copyright 1943, Vanguard Press, Inc)
I realized that the 'clown' was myself, it was all of us, or nearly all. It is life itself which gives us this rich and sequined costume, we are all clowns to a certain extent, we all wear sequined costumes, but if someone catches us unawares, as I did when I surprised the old clown, oh! who would dare admit that he is not touched to his very depths by immeasurable pity. I have this failing (if it is a failing; in any case, it is a source of enormous suffering) never to leave anyone in their sequined costume, even if he is king or emperor. What I want to see in the man standing before me is his soul, and the greater the person, the more exalted his position, the more I fear for his soul.
(Georges Rouault, forme, couleur, harmonie, catalogue Strasbourg: Musees de Strasbourg, 2006)
...And Maxim Gorki,
One day, as I was going through one of the passages of a circus, I happened to look in at the open door of a clown's dressing room and, becoming interested in him, stopped. In a long frock coat, wearing an opera hat and gloves, with a slender cane under his armpit, he was standing in front of a mirror and, raising his hat with a beautiful gesture of his dexterous hand, was bowing and scraping before his mirrored reflection.
Noticing in the mirror my astonished face, he quickly turned around to me and said with a smile, pointing a finger at his face in the mirror:
'I-I! Yes?'
Then he moved asside; his reflection in the mirror vanished; he slowly passed his hand through the air and spoke anew:
'I no more! Understand?'
From The Clown
(Translated by Bernard Guilbert Guerney. Copyright 1943, Vanguard Press, Inc)
Saturday, June 6, 2009
An Occasion to Express Some Thoughts on the Nude, In Light of Religious Views.
Since I have posted an image of a nude female figure, and because some people whom I know will not understand this, I think it a good time to express some of my thoughts on this.
The nude figure is generally not a hang-up for me. The human form can be viewed as beautiful, and this may be done in a non-sexual way. Some may argue that I have a responsibility as a religious man or a Christian to avoid causing my brother to stumble. I agree, however there is such a thing as personal responsibility. I do not agree that all of my actions should be defined by what I may or may not be causing another man to do (insecurity should not be confused with maturity). Another man does have a responsibility to avoid the things that may cause him harm. Artistic rendering of the naked human body is largely about beauty and form. If indeed we are made in God's image (and I believe this great mystery to be true- even if it is abused) we should see the human body as beautiful and sacred. I have heard the argument that the nude in art is no different than pornography. Pornography is vile and disgusting and I hate it (and what it does to people); and I do not agree that they are the same. Though I have seen much 'art' that I find disgusting and devoid of whatever meaning it was intended to have (for example, addressing an issue by merely adding to the ugliness of it). Drawing the nude female form has not caused me to objectify woman, but has given me greater respect and reverence. Far from causing me to think about woman more sexually, I have seen that to a greater extent I cannot afford to do that. The rest of my thoughts on this are not for this setting.
I have a responsibility to God, myself and to the women in my life who are dear to me to be honest and recognize that if exposure to the nude does becomes a problem for me, then I must withdraw from it. I cannot afford to, nor do I want to be undressing women with my eyes. I owe the women in my life (as well as those without) the respect and dignity they deserve as human beings. It is my desire that when I leave the studio the images stay behind and do not haunt me when I blink or when I lie down to sleep. By the grace of God (literally) this has been the case; that I can leave images behind (and yet I increasingly have the ability to recall the human form and render it more accurately). I am however not completely pure in this, and of that I am sorry. Figure drawing, as I have hopefully made clear, has not increased my propensity to objectify women. Indeed, that is what the grocery store check-out lane is for.
This should suffice for now.
The nude figure is generally not a hang-up for me. The human form can be viewed as beautiful, and this may be done in a non-sexual way. Some may argue that I have a responsibility as a religious man or a Christian to avoid causing my brother to stumble. I agree, however there is such a thing as personal responsibility. I do not agree that all of my actions should be defined by what I may or may not be causing another man to do (insecurity should not be confused with maturity). Another man does have a responsibility to avoid the things that may cause him harm. Artistic rendering of the naked human body is largely about beauty and form. If indeed we are made in God's image (and I believe this great mystery to be true- even if it is abused) we should see the human body as beautiful and sacred. I have heard the argument that the nude in art is no different than pornography. Pornography is vile and disgusting and I hate it (and what it does to people); and I do not agree that they are the same. Though I have seen much 'art' that I find disgusting and devoid of whatever meaning it was intended to have (for example, addressing an issue by merely adding to the ugliness of it). Drawing the nude female form has not caused me to objectify woman, but has given me greater respect and reverence. Far from causing me to think about woman more sexually, I have seen that to a greater extent I cannot afford to do that. The rest of my thoughts on this are not for this setting.
I have a responsibility to God, myself and to the women in my life who are dear to me to be honest and recognize that if exposure to the nude does becomes a problem for me, then I must withdraw from it. I cannot afford to, nor do I want to be undressing women with my eyes. I owe the women in my life (as well as those without) the respect and dignity they deserve as human beings. It is my desire that when I leave the studio the images stay behind and do not haunt me when I blink or when I lie down to sleep. By the grace of God (literally) this has been the case; that I can leave images behind (and yet I increasingly have the ability to recall the human form and render it more accurately). I am however not completely pure in this, and of that I am sorry. Figure drawing, as I have hopefully made clear, has not increased my propensity to objectify women. Indeed, that is what the grocery store check-out lane is for.
This should suffice for now.
Friday, June 5, 2009
To Quote...
... W. H. Auden,
from Letter to Lord Byron, Pt.II, stanza 12
Preserve me from the Shape of Things to Be;
The high-grade posters at the public meeting,
The influence of Art on Industry,
The cinemas with perfect taste in seating;
Preserve me, above all, from central heating.
It may be D. H. Lawrence hocus-pocus,
But I prefer a room that's got a focus.
August 1936
from Letter to Lord Byron, Pt.II, stanza 12
Preserve me from the Shape of Things to Be;
The high-grade posters at the public meeting,
The influence of Art on Industry,
The cinemas with perfect taste in seating;
Preserve me, above all, from central heating.
It may be D. H. Lawrence hocus-pocus,
But I prefer a room that's got a focus.
August 1936
Another (Hopefully) Short Responce to Ch.4
At the risk of spending the next five hours writing...
In my notes I came across a reference to chapter four of Practices of Looking, Sturken and Cartwright (Oxford, 2008). Pg. 142, para.2: A Tenet of realism in the visual arts is that the realist image depicts something as it would be seen by the eye. The key thing that strikes me here is the phrase, seen by the eye. This points to the fundamental problem of realism: that what is real is what is seen by the eye. What dull materialism. I think William Blake was right in saying,
We ever must believe a lie
When we see with, not through, the eye.
And isn't this the essence of art, to see and to feel from the inside? Isn't this what separates the artist from someone who has a good hand for drawing? This deep seated vision and feeling. (I don't mean to sound pretentious. But given the narcissistic nature of blogging what does it really matter.)
As much as I like and admire Caravaggio's work (oh, to see it in real life!), I have come increasingly to find greater meaning in the Russian Orthodox Icons and the likes of Georges Rouault. Picasso is quoted (by Chaim Potok) as having said: Art is a lie that leads us to the truth. In both Orthodox Iconography and Rouault this is the case. And isn't it also interesting that one is for a collective and the other for the so called individual (perhaps more on this later). Looking at Rouault's Autoportrait (1920-21) or Fille [whore], or Femme aux Cheveux Roux (1908) we see images portraying not the 'actual' appearance of a man or woman, nor passing judgement upon them, but hopefully leading us to see the truth and the feeling behind the merely outward appearance.
Here I should state that I an not ruling out realism as a whole, nor am I dismissing photography. Rouault couldn't have expressed his vision so powerfully had he not had the training and ability to draw and paint life-like images (this sentence is bordering on irony). Photography too can be expressive. The primary reason for my being presently in art school is to help gain the technic and ability to express the vision I have; to enhance what I consider a good gift. Though not in order to 'realize my potential'. Picasso is good example here. Rarely does one see line work like his. This is especially apparent in his earlier works, but it does carry through his entire work as an artist. He may have been born with great talent but it needed to be developed and refined, and that takes a lot of work and guidance. Returning to expression in realism: a fine example of this the portrait of the Comte de M. at the Portland art museum. The look on figure's face and the light in his eyes, expressing a certain depth of feeling and even sadness, is quite stunning. I just looked through three sketchbooks, stretching back nearly a year, and could not find any of my notes on the painting or who the artist was. Whoever the artist was, he was very skilled in his craft and kept his image from the pit of dullness so prevalent in portraiture.
As I said before, I do not rule out photography. I enjoy photography, and find it, as a medium to be as expressive as the artist behing the lense is capable of making it. This is in a way discussed a few pages later in the main text, however I am disiclined to delve into it pressently.
This looks like a good place to quit for now. Though I would like to discuss further Rouault and some religious themes in art.
In my notes I came across a reference to chapter four of Practices of Looking, Sturken and Cartwright (Oxford, 2008). Pg. 142, para.2: A Tenet of realism in the visual arts is that the realist image depicts something as it would be seen by the eye. The key thing that strikes me here is the phrase, seen by the eye. This points to the fundamental problem of realism: that what is real is what is seen by the eye. What dull materialism. I think William Blake was right in saying,
We ever must believe a lie
When we see with, not through, the eye.
And isn't this the essence of art, to see and to feel from the inside? Isn't this what separates the artist from someone who has a good hand for drawing? This deep seated vision and feeling. (I don't mean to sound pretentious. But given the narcissistic nature of blogging what does it really matter.)
As much as I like and admire Caravaggio's work (oh, to see it in real life!), I have come increasingly to find greater meaning in the Russian Orthodox Icons and the likes of Georges Rouault. Picasso is quoted (by Chaim Potok) as having said: Art is a lie that leads us to the truth. In both Orthodox Iconography and Rouault this is the case. And isn't it also interesting that one is for a collective and the other for the so called individual (perhaps more on this later). Looking at Rouault's Autoportrait (1920-21) or Fille [whore], or Femme aux Cheveux Roux (1908) we see images portraying not the 'actual' appearance of a man or woman, nor passing judgement upon them, but hopefully leading us to see the truth and the feeling behind the merely outward appearance.
Here I should state that I an not ruling out realism as a whole, nor am I dismissing photography. Rouault couldn't have expressed his vision so powerfully had he not had the training and ability to draw and paint life-like images (this sentence is bordering on irony). Photography too can be expressive. The primary reason for my being presently in art school is to help gain the technic and ability to express the vision I have; to enhance what I consider a good gift. Though not in order to 'realize my potential'. Picasso is good example here. Rarely does one see line work like his. This is especially apparent in his earlier works, but it does carry through his entire work as an artist. He may have been born with great talent but it needed to be developed and refined, and that takes a lot of work and guidance. Returning to expression in realism: a fine example of this the portrait of the Comte de M. at the Portland art museum. The look on figure's face and the light in his eyes, expressing a certain depth of feeling and even sadness, is quite stunning. I just looked through three sketchbooks, stretching back nearly a year, and could not find any of my notes on the painting or who the artist was. Whoever the artist was, he was very skilled in his craft and kept his image from the pit of dullness so prevalent in portraiture.
As I said before, I do not rule out photography. I enjoy photography, and find it, as a medium to be as expressive as the artist behing the lense is capable of making it. This is in a way discussed a few pages later in the main text, however I am disiclined to delve into it pressently.
This looks like a good place to quit for now. Though I would like to discuss further Rouault and some religious themes in art.
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