May 18, 2013

Painting, You're Doing It Wrong


Don't bother asking Mark Gottsegen - founder of AMIEN, author of The Painter's Handbook, teacher, artist, and all around art materials guru - what's the best type of paint to use?  "I get asked this all the time," said Gottsegen, who took time out from writing to speak to me last week.  "And I say, well, I can't tell you that."

It's not that he doesn't have opinions on the matter, but as someone devoted to the scientific study of art materials he realizes the importance of maintaining an unbiased position.  AMIEN, which stands for Art Materials Information and Education Network, bills itself as "the only unbiased source of information about art materials on the internet."  They do not accept advertising and do not allow the promotion of any specific products.  In a series of forums on the AMIEN website, users can post their questions about art materials and get answers from a team of knowledgable moderators and other experts in the field who monitor the site.  (Gottsegen informed me that he personally reviews each answer for accuracy).  AMIEN's board of directors includes conservation scientists from top institutions, founders of well-known art supply companies, and artists from around the country.  Many of them help answer user's questions on the site as well.


While you are never going to reach a consensus among painters about something as personal and subjective as art making, when it comes to materials there are some objective realities that dictate proper use.  Sure, you can ignore them, but you do so at your own peril.

"If you make [art] out of stuff you don't know anything about, you might make stuff that doesn't last," said Gottsegen.  "I'm happy to say to any artist, I'm not prescribing to you how you should make your work.  But if you want to make work that you're going to sell, that you want to last, you can't do what you propose to do because it won't last.  On the other hand you can make it this way and it will last."

What follows is some advice for painters who are interested in seeing their work withstand the test of time, at least in the physical sense.  Here are five tips, gleaned from my conversation with Gottsegen that I think painters will find useful, interesting, and possibly even surprising.

1. 'Archival' is a marketing term.

The work 'archival' gets thrown around a lot these days in relation to art supplies.  But as it turns out, the term is too inexplicit to be of much real use.  "Words like archival are used as marketing hooks," said Gottsegen.  "People assume that if something is labeled archival that means it's durable.  But the word does not mean that.  The word means, in the context, of or about archives...I think people ought to use the simpler word 'durable' and never mind the marketers."

So don't rely on the word 'archival' printed on the packaging of your art supplies to determine the durability of the material.  Instead, try to find out what's in it and how it was made.  That will be a much better indication of quality.

2. That ain't gesso.

There is a good chance that the white containers lying around your studio labeled 'gesso' are not actually filled with gesso, but with acrylic dispersion ground.  What's the difference?  "Gesso is a specific material," said Gottsegen.  "And acrylic dispersion ground is only related to real gesso in the fact that it's white and it contains chalk.  Otherwise, it ain't."

Traditional gesso is a mixture of inert pigment, water, and protein-based glue (like the kind made from an animal hide).  It was used historically as a ground for paintings done on panel.  Real gesso dries to a brittle film that is prone to cracking, so it isn't suitable for flexible supports like stretched canvas.

Acrylic dispersion grounds, the most common type of 'primer' found in art stores today, are made with an acrylic polymer instead of the protein-based glue found in actual gesso.  Sometime around the middle of the twentieth century, companies started using the word 'gesso' to refer to acrylic dispersion grounds and the term stuck.

Today it's common to hear just about any white painting ground - be it real gesso, an oil ground, or an acrylic dispersion ground - called gesso.  But in fact they are all different materials, with different properties, suited for different applications.  The ground you chose to paint on is an important part of both the aesthetic and structural make-up of your painting.  It's worthwhile to look into the benefits and drawbacks of each.

3. Size matters.

Size is a material that can be applied to canvas to protect it from the paint layers above.  There are a few reasons you might want to apply a coat of size (like an acrylic polymer or a PVA glue) to the raw canvas before applying a ground.

If you choose to use an oil ground on fabric like canvas or linen, sizing is a must.  "With an oil ground, you definitely have to use a size," said Gottsegen.  "Oil dries by oxidizing.  If you strike a match to light a candle, the match is oxidizing, just at a very rapid rate.  I used to tell my students linseed oil, or any other drying oil that dries by oxidation, is doing a slow burn."

That "slow burn" will eventually rot the canvas, but a layer of size applied to the fabric can protect it by keeping it from coming into contact with the oil.

Acrylic dispersion grounds (must...avoid...instinct...to call it...gesso) won't do the same damage to canvas a oil grounds, but you should still use a sizing coat for a different reason.  "Acrylic paints stay wet for a while and they can leach organic material out of the canvas," said Gottsegen.  "Canvas is not pristine and clean, it's got specks of dirt and stuff like that in there, and acrylic paint that wets the ground enough to wick the organic pollutants out of the canvas can discolor the ground.  It's called support induced discoloration and it was documented in a study by Golden Artist's Colors years ago."  So if you paint with acrylics and you want to avoid future discoloration of your work, sizing the canvas can help.

Traditionally, rabbit skin glue was used to size canvases prepared with an oil ground.  Some painters still insist on using it, despite research that proves it to be problematic.  Sure, all the old masters used it, but that's because it was the only thing available at the time.

"Rabbit skin glue is hygroscopic, it absorbs atmospheric moisture and it expands and contracts vigorously," said Gottsegen.  "This was proven 35 years ago.  Marion Mecklenburg at the Smithsonian did extensive studies on rabbit skin glue and concluded that it's not a good thing to use...Now that there are better choices, that do not pose such jeopardy to the painting, why not use the better ones?"

If you still insist on using rabbit skin glue, there is a way to mitigate its shortcomings.  "If you want to use rabbit skin glue as a size on your canvas that is mounted on a panel, that's not a problem," said Gottsegen.  "If you put it on a panel that restrains the expansion and contraction, then that's not a big deal."

So save the rabbits.  Or don't.  It's up to you.

4. The fingernail test.

Oil paint can take a long time to dry and many of the problems that affect oil paintings over time have to do with their drying.  You want to make sure an oil ground is thoroughly dry before you start painting on it.  Some people argue waiting at least six months, maybe longer.  Likewise, a finished oil painting needs to dry thoroughly before a varnish should be applied over it.

No artist wants to wait months to begin a painting, or to apply the final coat of varnish once it's finished.  The truth is, drying rates vary greatly based on the thickness of a painting and on the temperature and humidity levels they are exposed to.  When I asked Gottsegen about this, he recommended a useful test to determine if a layer of oil paint is dry enough.

In regards to grounds, "if you can stick your fingernail on the [oil] ground and not make a dent in it, it's ready to paint on," said Gottsegen.  "Usually, if you keep it in a warm and dry room, a week is good enough."

In regards to a finished oil painting, "there's no hard and fast rule because some paintings are thick and some are thin, so some will dry slower and some will dry faster," said Gottsegen.  "The fingernail test is a really good test.  You take your fingernail and you press it on the paint and if your fingernail can leave a mark, the paint is not dry enough to varnish.  If it doesn't leave a mark, like a dent, then you can varnish it.  I've had oil paintings dry in a month because I don't paint that thickly but then I have friends who paint with lots of impasto and they have to wait a year if they want to varnish."

5. Stretched canvas is poor painting support for oil paints.

Bottom line, oil paintings on stretched canvas are eventually going to form cracks.  "Linseed oil grounds or even oil alkyd grounds and linseed oil paints or walnut oil paints...they all get brittle as they age," said Gottsegen.  "And they are much more likely to crack if they are on a flexible support."

The number one thing you can do as a painter to help ensure the durability of your paintings is to paint on a rigid support, like a wooden panel.  If you prefer the texture of canvas, you can mount it to a rigid support instead of stretching it.  "A lot of people don't like to hear that because it makes a very heavy support," said Gottsegen.  "But if you're going to paint with oil paint, then [the canvas] ought to be stretched on a panel, not loose."

Acrylic paints don't get as brittle as oil paints over time, and they may avoid some of the problems that oil paints encounter as they age.  But all paintings, no matter the medium, still risk the possibility of being punctured or torn if they are simply stretched as opposed to mounted.


What is a suitable way to mount canvas to a panel?  Acrylic dispersion gel mediums make an excellent and durable adhesive.  "I put a spoonful on the panel and I spread it out with a spatula and make sure the panel is evenly coated, not very thickly, and then press the canvas on," said Gottsegen.  "Sometimes I dampen the fabric with a spray bottle so that some of the gel medium is drawn up into the fabric to make a better bond.  I roll it on with a brayer to make sure that everything is sticking and there are no bubble."

You can find several detailed descriptions of this process in the archives of the AMIEN forums.


If any of this information is news to you, then you've probably made some paintings that don't quite adhere to Gottsegen's advice.  Now what?  One last tip - how you store a painting after it's been made can play a big role in its durability over time.  "It's the cyclical change that's tough on a work of art," said Gottsegen.  "Because if you have an organic material like canvas or wood that is continually expanding and contracting, it's bound to give up a little bit.  A lot of the risk can be mitigated by environmental conditions.  In other words, if you keep the painting in a very stable environment that has moderate room temperatures and humidity that doesn't radically change and no direct sunlight, it will last a lot longer.  That's the goal of a museum."

Gottsegen went on to point out that museums can spend millions of dollars a year maintaining a proper environment for artworks.  That might be out of your price range, but you can at least consider not hanging your work in the bathroom.

(This article was originally posted on the New American Paintings blog.  See it here.)


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May 13, 2013

A Good, Old-Fashioned Painting Show



Just so we're all on the same page, the art world doesn't like figurative painting and they especially hate portraiture, right?  I thought everyone knew this to be the case.  I though I knew this to be the case.

But after typing it out so bluntly, I'm quickly realizing just how ridiculous it sounds.  First of all, what do I mean by 'the art world' anyway?  What a meaningless generalization.  There are tons of different 'art worlds.'  Secondly, plenty of people love figurative painting and some of the most successful, well-known contemporary artists are figurative painters.

Okay.

But then why do I still have the nagging suspicion that my initial instincts are warranted - that there is a real bias against a certain type of figurative painting by a certain segment of the art world?  You must know what I'm talking about.  Perhaps you can't articulate it any better than I can, but somehow you find yourself cognizant of this allusive prejudice.  You're aware that there is a perceived difference between 'cool' figurative painters like, say, Lisa Yuskavage, Marilyn Minter, or Nicole Eisenman, and 'uncool' figurative painters like, say, the guy with the mustache who wears a fedora and carries a huge chip on his shoulder because the art snobs refuse to pay attention to his work even though he is a master draftsman and mixes all of his own freakin' paints from scratch!

I'm doing a terrible job of explaining this, aren't I?

Well, if you're still confused, just flip through any book that surveys hip contemporary painters (Vitamin P2, Painting Today, Painting People, to name a few) or visit any installment of the Whitney Biennial and you'll quickly begin to get the gist.  Certain figurative painters are acceptable, others, not so much.  Suffice it to say that I sense a bias against realistic paintings of the human figure to exist (warranted or unwarranted) in the contemporary Art World (whatever Art World means when you capitalize it like that).

Sean Cheetham, Selfish, 2013, oil on panel, 12 x 9 inches

I bring this up because I am trying to describe the environment in which a show like Selfish, currently on view at Katherine Cone Gallery in Culver City, exists.  It is a figurative painting show in the most traditional sense.  Curated by artist Sean Cheetham, Selfish brings together 20 artists who each submitted a self-portrait.  It's no surprise that such a conservative (is that the right word?) exhibition stands out among the trendy Culver City art scene.

What you will find in Selfish is a good, old-fashioned painting show with some skillfully executed works on display.  There is a small painting by the always excellent Marc Trujillo, featuring his likeness through the window of a fast food joint.  There is also an eye-catching profile pic contributed by artist Stephen Schirle.  And Cheetham himself has a piece in the show (of himself) in which he proves to know his way around a palette and panel.

Marc Trujillo, 2201 Eubank Boulevard, 2013, oil on panel, 8 x 10 inches, at Katherine Cone Gallery

Stephen Schirle, SES, 2013, oil on linen mounted on aluminum, 10 x 10 inches, at Katherine Cone Gallery

That said, two works (that just so happened to be installed next to each other) stand out as the real showstoppers.  Pearhead, by Natalia Fabia, is a knock-out.  It's typical for a traditional oil portrait to follow the tried-and-true formula of 'figure emerging from a dark background.'  The contrast is exploited in an attempt to articulate light.  But Fabia's painting seems to be completely made of light.  Composed in a high-key palette of golds and pinks, it truly glows.

Natalia Fabia, Pearhead, 2013, oil on panel, 20 x 16 inches, at Katherine Cone Gallery

Wayne Johnson, on the other hand, displays a mastery of dark colors in his standout piece Past, Present, Future (image at top).  The subtle details in the figure's black sweatshirt and hat are painted beautifully, which is harder than it looks to pull off.  I heard a couple of viewers at the opening note that the painting looks like a photograph.  FYI, that isn't always received as the compliment you intend it to be, but in this case I think it is an accurate description and it points to a stylistic choice by Johnson that serves the work well.  The painting is articulated with a bold precision that echoes the stoic expression on the subject's face.  There are no cheap tricks here.  Johnson seems to put each brushstroke precisely where he intends for it to go and the result is superb.

There are lots of other paintings in Selfish, but these are the ones that really jumped out at me.  Go check out the show, you'll probably have your own favorites.  You might even hate some of it.  Just remember, this is only one person's selfish opinion. (Zing!)

Selfish, curated by Sean Cheetham, is on view at the Katherine Cone Gallery through June 22, 2013.

(Image at top: Wayne Johnson, Past, Present, Future, oil on panel, 12.5 x 18.5 inches at Katherine Cone Gallery)

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May 9, 2013

William Powhida Paints In Earnest


At first glance, William Powhida's new show Bill By Bill at Charlie James Gallery looks like a fairly typical survey of contemporary art.  Just about all of today's most common approaches to object-driven art making are represented.  There's a post-minimalist sculpture, some neo-modernist wall pieces, a hard-edged abstraction, three large digitally printed color field paintings, a neo-expressionist painting, a taxidermied animal, and a neon sign.

At second glance, the show looks like one big joke about the contemporary art world.  Powhida farmed out the making of these 'artworks' to assistants, mimicking popular contemporary tropes.  He then created some of his signature text-based pieces to accompany each of the works, satirically describing the labor (or lack there of) and intellectual rigor (or lack there of) that went into their creation.

William Powhida, Some Asset Class (Digital) Paintings - Color Fields (stretched prints on canvas component), 2013, archival pigment prints on canvas on stretcher bars, dimensions variable.  Photo courtesy of Charlie James Gallery.

William Powhida, Some Asset Class (Digital) Paintings - Color Fields (panel component), 2013, graphite and watercolor on panel, 19 x 15 inches.  Photo courtesy of Charlie James Gallery.

But at third glance (stay with me), Bill By Bill turns out to be an earnest and successful attempt to make  thoughtful, content-driven paintings.  That is, once you realize that the real art in this show is not the fabricated objects on display but Powhida's watercolor text pieces that supplement them.  Well-crafted and explicit in their intent, these paintings are polar opposites of the redundant, boringly vague artworks that they mock.  They depict Powhida's ideas as handwritten texts scrawled across a piece of notebook paper.  The illusion is so satisfying, and the writing so intriguing, you hardly notice that what you are really looking at are representational watercolor paintings created with such care that it's almost sentimental.

Critics of this show have their work cut out for them.  Powhida's art exudes knowingness, as if to say, "I'm aware of everything you might say to critique me and I've already though about it myself."  A literal example of this is found in the piece titled Some Criteria For Evaluation where Powhida offers a list of over 50 questions to ask when evaluating a work of art.  Despite the satirical undertones, the list actually reads like a useful critical tool.  It also lacks the smart-ass asides or sarcastic scratch-outs characteristic of much of the other work.  In a different but similar series of paintings, titled What Can We Learn About Art?, Powhida lists summaries "from 36 critics writing about criticism, condensed into assertions, that are conditional or absolute."  While this piece is obviously more satirical, the result is a list of proverb-like sayings about art that are thought-provoking despite contradicting one another.

William Powhida, What Can We Learn About Art? (panel 1 of 4), 2013, graphite and watercolor on panel, 19 x 15 inches.  Photo courtesy of Charlie James Gallery.

William Powhida, Some Criteria For Evaluation, 2013, graphite and watercolor on paper, 22 x 15 inches.  Photo courtesy of Charlie James Gallery.

These two pieces are good examples of the inquisitive tone Powhida has established in this show.  They also let on to the fact that, despite the posturing, Powhida seems to care very much about the state of contemporary art and to spend a lot of time reading up on the subject.  That being the case, his criticism must come from a place of caring, and with so much of the work in Bill By Bill focused on criticizing painting he may just have a soft spot for the medium.

One of the most entertaining works in the show, titled A (really bad, bad) Neo-Expressionist Painting, depicts a skull in the manner suggested by its name.  Powhida's accompanying text tries to explain the difference between a good bad painting, a bad bad painting, and a really bad bad painting.  About the resulting piece he quips, "I can barely look at it, what have we done?" and "you realize people are going to like these...Fuck."  The piece appears to have sold quickly.

William Powhida, A (really bad, bad) Neo-Expressionist Painting (painting component), 2013, acrylic on linen, 58 x 44 inches.  Photo courtesy of Charlie James Gallery.

William Powhida, A (really bad, bad) Neo-Expressionist Painting (panel component), 2013, graphite and watercolor on panel, 19 x 15 inches.  Photo courtesy of Charlie James Gallery.

In another piece, titled A Geometric Hard-Edge 'Abstract' shapes in a flat pictorial plane, Powhida had the idea "to take my critique of the art market beyond language to the aesthetic level of objects by making a prototype of a flawed idea, art's relationship to income inequality and wealth.  Or this entire show."  The 'purity' of abstract form and color is co-opted to express a literal ideology.  "Does skill or craft matter," he asks?  "Whatever...Let's paint!"

William Powhida, A Geometric Hard-Edge 'Abstract' shapes in a flat pictorial plane (painting component), 2013, acrylic on linen, 58 x 44 inches.  Photo courtesy of Charlie James Gallery.

William Powhida, A Geometric Hard-Edge 'Abstract' shapes in a flat pictorial plane (panel component), 2013, graphite and watercolor on panel, 19 x 15 inches.  Photo courtesy of Charlie James Gallery.

But strip away the humorous premise, the fabricated objects, and the stuffed coyote from Bill By Bill and you end up with a pretty traditional painting show.  In fact, it is really an exhibition of paintings about art - a well-tread theme that Powhida somehow manages to breathe new life into.  One of the lines from What Can We Learn About Art? states: "Art can be about art but meta-art is boring.  Boredom is death."  And yet, this show is far from boring.  Two other lines read: "Art is exciting and provokes fierce, fiery, and intimate emotions" and "Art forces and opinion.  (Asshole)."  Now that is a much better description of what I find so enjoyable about Powhida's work.

William Powhida, A Taxidermied Animal (crate and coyote component), 2013, detail.  Photo courtesy of Charlie James Gallery.

William Powhida, A Taxidermied Animal (panel component), 2013, graphite and watercolor on panel, 19 x 15 inches.  Photo courtesy of Charlie James Gallery.

William Powhida's exhibition Bill By Bill is on view at Charlie James Gallery in Los Angeles, CA through June 8, 2013.

(Image at top: Installation view of Bill By Bill.  Photo courtesy of Charlie James Gallery.)

(This article was originally posted on the New American Paintings Blog.  You can view it here.)
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May 6, 2013

Marcia Roberts at Rosamund Felsen Gallery


I ran across this sweet little exhibition of paintings by Calfornia-based artist Marcia Roberts Saturday night at Rosamund Felsen Gallery in Santa Monica.  Two shows were opening simultaneously at the gallery that night - the other being a sculpture exhibition by artist Mindy Alper - and a sizable crowd of patrons had turned out in support.  The gallery was abuzz with chatter and movement, except in the room where Roberts' work hung where an atmosphere of quiet austerity prevailed.  People seemed to feel the need to slow down and hush up around her paintings, as if paying their respects.

Marcia Roberts, Fort Bragg, 2013, acrylic on canvas over panel, 22 x 30 inches at Rosamund Felsen Gallery

Marcia Roberts, Dos Rios, 2013, acrylic on canvas over panel, 22 x 30 inches at Rosamund Felsen Gallery

The paintings in this show stick to a 'pattern and deviation' formula often found in poetry.  When a pattern exists, any deviation from it tends to stick out like a sore thumb and that is often where the action is.  Here, Roberts presents a group of paintings that all look pretty much the same - an irregular quadrilateral sits atop a rectangle, bordered by the edges of the canvas.  They only differ in color-scheme and in the play of light present at the center of each.  So, without even reading the press release, you'd be safe to assume that color and light must be what Roberts finds important.


Marcia Roberts, Leggett, 2013, acrylic on canvas over panel, 22 x 30 inches at Rosamund Felsen Gallery

Painting by Marcia Roberts at Rosamund Felsen Gallery

I enjoy geometric abstraction in which the artist's hand is quietly present (which reminds me of this fascinating article by James Elkins about Mondrian's technique) and Roberts' work fits that category.  From a distance, her lines may look flawlessly straight, but on closer inspection it becomes clear that they are hand-painted and just irregular enough to be interesting, without being distracting.  The actual surfaces of the paintings are dull and flat, but Roberts employs exquisitely subtle shifts in color to create the illusion of light glowing softly from within the geometric forms.  Think Rothko by way of Malevich.

Marcia Roberts, Anchor Bay, 2012, Acrylic on canvas over panel, 22 x 30 inches at Rosamund Felsen Gallery

Installation view, paintings by Marcia Roberts at Rosamund Felsen Gallery

The exhibition of paintings by Marcia Roberts is on view at Rosamund Felsen Gallery through June 1, 2013.

(Image at top: Painting by Marcia Roberts, 2013, detail)
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May 3, 2013

One Painting Review: Llyn Foulkes' Pop


The Llyn Foulkes retrospective at the Hammer Museum ends with the painting Pop, an illuminated relief painting situated within a pitch-black room filled with a tune composed by the artist.  The painting depicts the artist as an aging, shell-shocked father glued to his television, dressed in a Superman shirt and gripping a Diet Coke.  In the room with him are his two children, his daughter with her hand on his shoulder and his son listening to a tape recorder and holding an open book with text drawn from the Micky Mouse Club handbook that reads, "I will be a square shooter, I will be a good American."  The iconographic elements within the painting - the Superman t-shirt, the Diet Coke cup, the baseball on the floor, the calendar dated to the day of the Hiroshima bombing, etc. - are poignant symbols within a particularly American psyche.

The culmination of these symbols draws attention to Foulkes' ongoing narrative of anxiety about corporate powers at work - a paradoxical feeling of both helplessness and pacification by way of entertainment which has resulted in the commercialization of the self, a Disney-fied government, and disappointment in our Superman president.  The expression of disgust towards American capitalism and immersive pop culture is not a particularly unique perspective in contemporary art, which is why it is rare when a work is able to communicate this feeling without being trite.  Foulkes' stance does not come off as trite because it does not adhere to the currency of unique ideas within contemporary art.  Foulkes adopts a narrative of tired resignation, illustrating himself with an intoxicated look in his eyes, a facial expression of vacant submission.

The music emanating from the painting is darkly patriotic and carnivalesque.  The domestic setting for an American dystopia is perfectly preserved in the diorama-like painting.  Various styles converge in the work which plays with an exaggeratedly banal King of the Hill caricature, the grotesque thickness of a Phillip Guston painting, and the illusionistic qualities of Magritte.

The experience of staring at Foulkes' illuminated painting in complete darkness gives the impression of watching television alone in the dark.  The familiar sense of a glowing box existing as another entity in the room and the perception of depth within the painting creates a hi-definition impact.  Foulkes' painting goes much deeper that flat illustration.  Pop emanates a deeply personal narrative that is undeniably sincere in its depiction of humor, disappointment and decay.

(Image at top: Llyn Foulkes, Pop, 1985-90, in the collection of MOCA, Los Angeles)
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April 24, 2013

7 QUESTIONS: Brian Calvin

Brian Calvin, Memory of a Sister (Con), 2013, acrylic on canvas, 60 x 48 inches.

We asked Brian Calvin the following 7 questions because we think he's a good artist and we really wanted to hear his answers.  His work is currently on view at the Finley, an alternative space in Los Angeles offering visitors a very unique viewing experience.   Brian described it as a sweet little art oasis for Peeping Toms.  We're intrigued.  The show, titled End of Messages, is on view through May 18, 2013. Click here for more info.


1. What is your connection to Los Angeles?

I exist just on the periphery of Los Angeles' gravitational pull.

2. Name a living painter that you admire.

Maureen Gallace, Charles Garabedian, Jane Freilicher, John Wesley, Jim Nutt, Tomma Abts.

3. Name a dead painter that you admire.

Many of my waking hours are spent contemplating painters who were dead before I was born: Giotto, Piero, Fra Angelico, Manet, Cezanne, Bonnard, Vuillard, Matisse, Balthus, Milton Avery, Marsden Hartley, Forrest Bess, Morandi.  And what about Guston, Joe Brainard, Alice Neel, Fairfield Porter, de Kooning, Agnes Martin, Warhol, Christina Ramberg, Roger Brown, CPLY?  But somehow "dead painter" makes me think of more recent deaths (Richard Artschwager, Raoul De Keyser).  And yet, getting back to my initial response to the question, I particularly admire Albert York!

Brian Calvin, Untitled, 2013, oil, acrylic and sand on canvas, 14 x 11 inches

4. How much did you sell your first painting for?

$50

5. Of the paintings you have made, which is your favorite?

That's a terrible question!

6. LACMA, MOCA, Getty, or Hammer?

Getty.

7. Why make paintings?

I have no idea. Channeling David Foster Wallace, to keep my head from exploding.


Thanks Brian.

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April 22, 2013

What Makes A Painting Good?


It's that time of year again.  Art schools and summer residency programs have sent off their admissions decisions to anxious applicants around the world.  A charmed few will receive the welcomed validation of an acceptance letter while others will be reminded just how personal the rejection from an impersonal form letter can feel.

Inherent in every admissions decision - whether for an artist residency, grad school program, juried show, etc. - is the implication that some artists are better than others.  And if artists are judged based on samples of their artwork, it would seem to follow that some art is better than other art.  You might disagree with this.  Perhaps rejection only means an artist was not right for the specific program they were applying for, not that they were worse than other applicants.  But it has to be fairly common that, within an applicant pool, there are more artists who do fit the criteria for admission than there are spots available to accommodate them.  In such cases you would assume that the intention of the admissions committee would be to pick the better artists, whether they would articulate it that way or not.

But the seemingly simple question what makes art good or bad turns out to be nearly impossible to answer.  Even narrowing things down to one specific medium - say painting - doesn't make things any easier.  Artist Wade Guyton's recent show at the Whitney Museum of American Art sparked a discussion on Jerry Saltz's Facebook page with over 800 comments debating whether or not Guyton's work could even be categorized as painting.  If we can't even agree on what a painting is, how could we ever hope to determine whether one painting is any better than another?  And who really cares?  Artists of this generation are generally savvy enough to know that art is subjective, so why get bogged down with trying to make such arbitrary distinctions?  Well, perhaps because most of us do tend to make those distinctions, whether we are conscious of it or not.  If we value certain artworks over others, we must have our reasons for doing so, right?

One of the biggest challenges to answering the question what makes a good painting is that as soon as you make any declarative statements on the matter you are essentially inviting others to prove you wrong (i.e. Clement Greenberg).  And they will prove you wrong, simply by pointing out that art is a social construct and therefore no absolute values exist by which it can be judged, blah blah blah.  Checkmate.  Except you'll still go around liking some art more than other art even if you can't articulate exactly why.

So is it all just a matter of taste?  The art world doesn't act that way.  There is a definite hierarchy that exists where people seem willing to defer to "top tier" institutions to assign value.  It is certainly easier to judge an artist based on their CV than it is to try and figure out if their work is any good on your own.  But top tier institutions are people, my friend.  They are made up of individuals who make judgement calls about the validity of the artists they represent or champion.  How do they separate the wheat from the chaff?

Raoul De Keyser, Recover, 2003, oil on canvas, 32 1/3 x 26 3/8 inches via David Zwirner Gallery

Instead of speculating on that last question, and possibly digressing into an institutional critique, let's redirect.  I'm an individual, how do I judge a painting?  Here's one example.  I think Raoul De Keyser is a good painter.  Why?  Well, I could talk about his strange but intriguing use of color, his subtle but brilliant compositional choices, or the understated confidence of his paint handling.  But if I'm honest, my appreciation for De Keyser's work has a lot to do with the fact that I was taught to appreciate it.  Let me explain.  It started when an art school professor assigned me a series of articles that praised De Keyser as a painter.  In a separate event, an artist I admire brought me to a De Keyser show at David Zwirner Gallery in New York and told me that the work was important.  After that, I started noticing De Keyser's name popping up in other articles and on blogs and on the lips of other artists.  That made me decide to study his paintings with more intensity, which in turn made me decide to write about them myself.  All of this together added up to me ultimately appreciating Raoul De Keyser as a painter.  Does that make his paintings good?  To me, it does.

Raoul De Keyser, Again, 2010, watercolor and charcoal on canvas mounted on wooden panel, 6 1/3 x 11 4/5 inches via David Zwirner Gallery

I chose De Kyeser as an example partly because his work is representative of a certain style of painting that complicates the categories of "good" and "bad."  If you like his work, you might describe it as purposely deskilled.  If you don't, you might argue that your three-year-old could do better.  When I said that I was taught to like De Keyser's paintings what I meant was that appreciating his work turned out to be a learned skill.  And part of the learning was realizing that the context of the work greatly influenced its meaning.  For example, I probably wouldn't have initially found them as interesting outside of the context of a magazine article or New York gallery.  It was the context that convinced me to look closer at the paintings, but it was the act of looking closer that caused me to appreciate them.  From there, my criteria for judging the paintings shifted as my knowledge about them grew and that actually says more about me than it does about whether De Keyser's paintings are good or bad.

Most of the panel discussions I have ever been to pose a very interesting question and then expend a good number of words not answering it.  I'm beginning to realize that this article is going to suffer a similar fate.  For whatever reason, I have always had a strong desire to try to answer the question posed in the title - or at least believe that it could be answered.  However, I'm beginning to wonder if the question itself might be flawed.  Values like "good" or "bad" are really just projections made by viewers when it comes to art, and maybe that's the answer I was looking for.  Perhaps your judgement of a painting reflects more about you than it does anything else.
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