2017 Eclipse Revisited

OK, I'm a tad disappointed, I thought more visual artists

(and poets and dancers) would be documenting their

creative reactions to the 2017 phenomenon, the eclipse.

Maybe makers are still processing and digesting; maybe

there is work yet to be created.

Gene Smith prepared with filters to capture the event

I am often accused of being overly-enthusiastic.  Guilty.  But in checking around with all my arty friends as well as on the web, I am not finding too many others who documented our recent eclipse.  Many for-profit organizations produced tee-shirts and posters but I was looking for artist reaction.

However family-DNA proved strong as, unbeknownst to me (and totally unprompted by me), my sister did choose to make a mark on the occasion producing one of her clay bowls in commemoration of the event she experienced at the Washington DC zoo.

AmyH, Washington DC potter

untitled, thrown bowl, 2017

Cool, huh?  And I called my photographer buddy, Gene, to see if he got creative that day.  He did not disappoint:

gorgeous

just a few of the pieces he did

Gene Smith, photographer

There is/was a quilt ART project spearheaded by NASA which is really open to all media (not just quilting) but will be displayed as a collage or quilt when finally assembled.  Pretty nifty idea and I hope folks respond.  Check out the link to read more about it.  And then I found this:

Isn't this pretty?  It's a quilt square designed by Susan Davis from Bozeman, MT.  You can see her work and/or order a pattern for this commemorative design here.  It is part of her Awareness & Special Days collection.

My Uncle is a woodworker and alerted me to this:

This is a mirror crafted by John Lucas, a wood turner from East TN, a part of his galaxy series and done especially to commemorate this years eclipse.  I tried to get a link here about him and his work.

My search efforts were meager at best, and yes, I am still processing and wondering how to work the event into future art pieces of my own.  If you missed my blogs, Eclipse I and II, find them here and here.  So I guess I should promise now to drop the subject?  Three blogs? O.K., I'll let it rest a bit.  

How are you going to spend this glorious, last week of official summer?  My heart goes out to those in TX who are still sifting through the aftermath of Harvey, so much to remind us that Nature is still in charge.  

THOUGHTFULLY YOURS,

Cindy

When There's Nothing to Add

Sometimes I forget about the fact that 

 art needs to "add" to the

conversation...why make a copy of 

something unless there is more to say?

As artists we spend so much time learning how to render something, how to use the media to capture what we see that we forget about the creativity of saying something new.  I don't mean we have to reinvent a new type of wheel but we should be adding something new to the conversation about the wheel.  Does this resonate?

Andy Braitman was trying to make a similar point last week in a workshop I attended when he asked:  "How can you improve upon a beautiful photograph of a gorgeous woman? " and he answered succinctly "You can't.  So don't paint it." And then he added, "Unless you are going to tell us something new about that gorgeous woman."

I have pondered this all week and, as a result, am reexamining my interest in painting, with permission, my friend Gene's fabulous flower photographs.  Gene's ability to capture the NC wildflowers is extraordinary.  He does everything with a camera that I cannot.  It seemed a simple matter to let him do his magic and then ask if I could paint from the images that caught my attention.  (Gene is a generous fellow and always says yes.)

So I tried....

and tried....

and tried.

Here is one result, a Yellow Salsify flower and bee.

Cindy's version of "Salsified" oil, 10 x 0

It's not bad, but it is not memorable either.

Here is the original photo:

Gene Smith, photography

Now, to me, that is stunning, it is fresh and it stands on its own as art.

And look at this one:

photo by Gene Smith

What makes this photo exquisite are all the elements I would merely be copying: the way he captured the light on the edges of the bud and stem, the muted background and the stunning detail of the flower petals.  Not much more to add to that.  It was Gene who waited patiently in the itchy grass for the sun to catch the flower, not me. Had I been sitting alongside of him with my sketchbook or paints I somehow would have felt more legit.

I'm not saying that working from photos is a bad thing.  I just think I have come to the realization that the photo must be mine, I should have smelled and tasted and felt the location and have something of "cindy" to add to the image.  That's all.  I need to add to the conversation, start a new one or stay quiet.

Thanks Gene for your patience and understanding as I worked my way through this valuable lesson. 

At my urging Gene has made two calendars of his work, one on wildflowers and one of butterflies.  They are worth a look AND an order.  Check them out here. You may also contact Gene via email using the little envelope symbol on this page

Meanwhile, stay with me as I ponder this issue further.  What do you think?  Have you had a similar experience or revelation?

CREATIVELY YOURS,
Cindy
p.s. the post on finding painted rocks resulted in so many neat stories about folks participating. I really enjoyed the variety of places folks picked them up and how they added a little perfect something to their day.  So paint on, spread the joy and keep your eyes open! 

To Shoot or Not To...

I've had several art-filled weekends lately with treks to the amazing Dali Museum in St. Petersburg, FL as well as to the Winter Park Art Festival in WP, FL.  Preparing for both excursions brought to mind an article by artist Benoit Philippe in which he discusses whether or not it is a good practice to take photos of the art (when allowed) in a museum.  His discussion involves the question of whether it is better to really see the art while there or to attempt to capture a photo to refer to later.  I went back and reread his article and opted, for this trip, to attempt to really see.  I also asked him for permission to reference his article (granted).

only a glimpse of the incredible design of the Dali Museum

Purposely I took no photos of the art hoping to intentionally, mindfully, better take in and remember what was before me.  I did allow myself to make notes (things like: "daddy long legs seen in evening=hope," and "surrealists were rebelling against religion, family, morality and culture.")  How did this work for me?  Fine.  I did not distract myself or anyone else angling for a photo.  But it did make me think a lot about our culture now of picture-taking and how much we might be missing out on by photographing everything as opposed to enjoying it.

Philippe references a study by Linda Henkle, psychological scientist, in which she reports that her study participants had a worse memory for objects and object details when they engaged in picture taking.  She found that people tended to rely on technology to remember things for them and thus did not engage their own memory while looking.  (She also noted that with the sheer volume of photos we now take, very few people had the inclination to organize them in any way that made referencing or reminiscing possible.)

This reminded me of the bus trip we took through Denali National Park.  The guide would announce that bears (or sheep or whatever) were spotted (literally) on the mountain to the left of the bus (we could not get out).  The bus would lean left as everyone rushed their cameras to the glass to snap a photo of 3 or 4 black dots on a brown mountain miles away.  For what?  To say they had a photo of X? Could we even see them?

Not my idea of a bus trip, never mind an animal sighting.  But cameras were a'buzzing.

Warhol

Here is my camera concession...and kudos to the Museum, it was a fun photo-op set up for the traveling exhibit on Andy Warhol.  Museum goers got to pose with Andy before seeing the exhibit.  They also did a grand job of drawing parallels with Dali and what Warhol learned from him.  

But back to picture taking....I remember many Christmases being very disappointed in my photos after the event.  I finally concluded I could enjoy the fun or I could step outside of the hoopla and record it...it was impossible for me to do both.  These days I choose to stay in the scene and hope my memory does it justice.

Using photos to paint from is also a tricky proposition and I have come to reject photos if I was not there, up close and personal.  Why?  First, the emotion of my feelings are an important part of translating the scene to canvas, second, the camera flattens the field of distance and somewhat distorts the real perspective, and third, I have learned the hard way that photographed shadows get hard and dark, not very realistic.  (All that said, not withstanding you professional photographers who know how to manipulate the settings of your equipment to capture amazing photos which are art in and of themselves...a huge exception to my generalities.)

At the art festival I took only one photo of art...with the artist's permission; it was the latest work done by an artist from whom my son owns a painting.  The artist was fine with the transmission.  Other artists, understandably, posted signs requesting no photos of their work be taken.  In today's world of copycats that is a common request.  No arguments from me.

So, is there a conclusion after my ponderings? Yes, I have come to believe that experiencing fully any event means being engaged with all the senses and mindfully, intentionally recording it all in our brain.  Some of us will better recall the smells, others the colors, others the sounds...but no point and shoot camera or smart-phone will be able to adequately substitute that which we train our brains to record.  At least, that is my current theory.  I'd love to hear your thoughts on this issue.

Sincerely yours,

Cindy