When is a Painter an
Artist? 8/05
by Robert Maniscalco
I'm finally getting around to reading "Zen and
the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance." I may not
be performing a tune up anytime soon, but it has really
impressed me in terms of what I do, namely paint in
the "classical" tradition. Author, Robert
M. Pirsig distinguishes "Romantic" beauty,
as the appearance which strikes the senses, from "Classic"
beauty, which comes out of a harmonious order of the
parts.
Representational artists, like me, have often been
made to feel "square" because we aren't
"cool" and spontanious; we can't throw paint
around like a gorrilla/guerilla. The book is teaching
me to value my having a rational, classical method
and promises, if I keep reading, a reconcilliation
of these two approaches. Obviously there needs to
be a balance. I'm not here to invalidate the sincere
efforts of any of my colleagues. What needs to be
present in any artistic endeavor, however, is an authenticity,
the presense of something called quality.
Pirsig asserts that quality is actually what generates
our perception of reality. It is not merely a response
to "reality," a judgement, as we were taught
to believe in school. It is a pre-intellectual awareness.
Ever wonder why the first thing that comes to mind
when we look at a work of art is either "I like
it" or "I don't?" Before there is understanding
there is an awareness of and attraction to quality.
John Singer Seargent's monk-like devotion to achieving
a perfect, spontanious elequence in every stroke is
an example that comes to mind. As a portrait artist,
I can appreciate the effort, the working and reworking
that went into creating the appearance of "effortlessness"
in his best work. It would never occur to most viewing
a Seargent how much underlying structure and "science"
went into making his paintings. There was an immence
commitment to finding the balance between romantic
and classical beauty. These diametrically opposed
approaches are clearly reconciled in the work of creative
genius. Sure it can be said that quality is "whatever
you like." But it's also true that what a genius
"likes" contains a world of experience that
informs his every scribble.
Juxtaposed in my reading room is another great book
for painters, just published by Stove Prairie Press,
called "Alla Prima, Everything I know About Painting"
by Richard Schmid (an incredible painter). Two questions
arise as I read these books in tandum: is it possible
to be a good painter and not be a good artist? And
the other: is it possible to be a great artist and
not be a good painter? Schmid has nothing profound
to say in his work; it's just delicious to look at.
He doesn't overtly comment on his subject. He masterfully
observes what is important and essential and gets
it down on canvas with an elegant authority. He operates
in the world of appearances, which according to Pirsig
makes him a "Romantic." He executes his
paintings with the depth of understanding and skill,
however, that can only be termed "Classical."
Schmid makes this Romantic/Classical reconciliation
look easy. But is he an artist?
I know many who would say no, he's just a glorified
copiest. While this may be said of many realists working
today, I'm getting pretty bored with those artists
who bang away at splatter painting and random stabs
of color, turning down their noses at anyone who's
taken the time to get under the hood, as it were,
and learn the craft of painting. Yes, on one hand,
art is "whatever you want it to be." But
it needs to be so much more. Otherwise, why all the
fuss? Schmid asserts that "'looseness' should
be the way a painting appears, not how it is accomplished."
It's funny how the critics of representational artists
accuse them of having nothing deep or profound to
say--what does a beautiful landscape tell us about
being human? On the other side of the abyss representationalists
accuse abstractionists of a similar lack of depth--where's
the art in a wood board that was dragged behind a
car?
Ultimately, great art must create its own universe,
in which the artist has completely given him/herself
over to the rules within that universe. This is where
art lives or dies. The thrill of that immediate gratification
along with an understanding of the underlying structure
and process is the essential Zen to creating and enjoying
great art. It's also great for riding and maintaining
motorcycles.
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